ELLIE 074
by Akktri
Summary: Documentary records and xenomorph data from the Rosedale Manors research facility. (Species reboot)
1. Chapter 1: Rosedale Files

I hatched from a human being's chest cavity on a planet called Archeron.

Mother taught me how to kill, but a group of scientists at the space colony captured me, teaching me English, by means of brain probes and simulations.

I found religion, much to their chagrin.

My family killed just about everyone on the base. The Marines came, they fought back, and the remains of the colony was destroyed in an enormous atomic explosion.

I was then transported from there to the prison planet Fiorina 161, where several prisoners died due to my grandmother, the queen, and about a hundred flesh eating alien worms.

Following this, a man named Weyland captured me, imprisoning me in a secret military facility.

My name is Ernie Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik.

What you are reading right now are documents I and my associates have smuggled out of secured facilities. They regard the histories of my friends and acquaintances, their lives and deaths. One such story is my own.

Welcome to Rosedale Manors.

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DOCUMENT ID #000741011611601

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LIMITED DISTRIBUTION - DESTROY AS "FOR OFFICIAL USE ONLY"

Produced by:

Damballah Project

Weyland-Yutani Ind.

Rosedale Manors Facility

Subject 2294963: "Newt"

Our examination began on an upper floor of the annex. Subject favored the room because of the sunlight, and the view of the small forest beyond. She appeared to enjoy watching the geese and little things happening along the ground from the narrow bulletproof windows, though she bears no visible set of eyes.

Subject was a small xenomorph larva, one with a tube shaped body and sharp little teeth. Its dainty limbs were occupied playing with a circa 1970's Winnie the Pooh playset. She seemed harmless, but as a precaution she had been placed behind a barrier of the same bulletproof material.

A framed picture of the Cat in the Hat hung on the wall above a toy box filled with assorted amusements. She had a flat screen TV and a little bookcase. The playset, a plastic tree with a treehouse at the top, stood on the top of a circular table, which she climbed upon to place dolls inside. Her body, although worm-like in shape, has a hard exoskeleton which allows her to easily perform this action. She silently mouthed things as she played alone.

My section of the room had a more functional and business-like design. File cabinets for case information, a computer and a desk. A ficus in the corner. The only bit of silliness on my side of the barrier was a framed picture of The Trollusk and the Hat.

Cameras and microphones had been positioned in several key locations to record the proceedings. One camera was infrared to monitor the creature's internal bodily processes.

Several puzzling things had been stated about this creature, which I attempted to clarify in this interview. I activated the recording equipment.

"Hello," I said. "My name is Doctor Robert South. What is your name?

The larva's head did not turn in my direction. She's still playing with her toys.

"Rebecca Ann Jorden. My friends call me _Newt_."

"Newt-" I began.

"It's _Ms. Jorden_ to you." she interrupted.

"Right. _Ms. Jorden_. You speak English quite well for a xenomorph. Can you tell me a little something about that?"

She set down her doll, her eyeless face pointing at me. "I've always speaked English. Mommy and daddy taught me. "

She placed a little doll in a plastic rocking chair. "How come you don't have Pooh and the owl to complete the set?"

I had to smile, this creature was very convincing. "They got lost. It's a very old toy."

"It looks brand new to me. The color isn't even faded."

"It's been in storage for awhile," I said. "We don't get many children around here. Tell me something. How can you _see_?"

"I have eyes on the inside," she answered. "My shell is like the glass on cop shows. At least, up front...are you scared of me?"

The question took me aback. I had been taking notes with a pen, but the line got messed up. "I have to admit, a little. Why?"

"I can kinda see your heart beating. It's a warm spot in the middle of the cooler area."

Infrared. How fascinating! Note: I must tell maintenance to install something to prevent these creatures from sensing heat through the glass.

Honestly, I _was_ terrified. "So you see heat?"

"Yes, but I can also _read_."

I heard the soft bump of a pigeon slapping against the shiny window. Our subject made a purring noise in amusement.

"I've been told that xenomorphs don't see at all," I said. "I heard they're guided by _smell_."

"We're called _Ss'sik'chtokiwij_. Whoever said that we can't see is wrong." She tilted her head. "You're wearing a blue shirt with a black tie."

This was correct. My other shirts were in the wash. "Where do you come from?"

She was playing with the toys again, not paying attention. "What?"

"Where are you from? Where is your home?"

"Planet LV 426. The Hadley's Hope colony."

Her strange little body rounded itself in sadness. "Of course it's not there anymore. It got blowed up."

In my folder was a photograph of the girl this thing identified with, a cute little plump faced girl with short length straw colored hair. I mentally debated showing it to her.

"I've seen pictures of Rebecca Jorden," I said. "Her body was in a morgue at Fiorina 161. Are you sure you're really her?"

"Are you really sure you're you?"

I wasn't sure what to make of this response. Similar lines of reasoning have been used by inmates at mental asylums.

"I'm afraid I don't understand," I said.

"I don't either. All I know is, I died, I went to heaven, and somehow I ended up in this body."

I leaned forward in my chair, thinking I had somehow stumbled upon an official alien religion. "You mean like reincarnation?"

"What's that?"

I explained the concept to her.

"That's dumb," Newt said. "What if you're wrong, and you don't get another chance?

I gave her a nod, guessing that she could see the gesture. "Apparently _you did_ , didn't you?"

"That's different. I went to heaven and saw _Jesus_. He said he made a special exception, so I could help the Ss'sik'chtokiwij. He said when my task is done, I'll be able to stay with my mommy and daddy forever, with him."

She seemed genuinely saddened by this alleged exile from heaven, as if she believed every word she said. What could this creature have possibly encountered on Fiorina to produce such mental delusions?

"Ms. Jorden," I said. "How did you die?

"It happened after Ripley put me to sleep in that pod."

According to records, Ellen Ripley, sole survivor of the Nostromo incident, aided a rescue mission to Hadley's Hope. Newt, _a human_ , was the last surviving colonist. The little girl was placed in a cryogenic pod onboard the rescue ship, Sulaco, but she didn't survive the crash that followed.

I jumped at the chance to poke a hole in her story. "I heard about that. She drowned in her pod."

"You're wrong. I didn't drown. Ernie's grandmother laid an egg in my chest. " She sighed. "But I've forgiven her for that."

The "Ernie" she refers to is Subject 78453760, an adult xenomorph who is currently working on the completion of an online seminary degree. The "grandmother", according to record, is Subject 94202227, the massive egg laying queen discovered by the scientific research division at Hadley's Hope and at Fiorina. I have explored the psychology of these two in other interviews.

"There were no signs of larva hatching from the girl's body," I said.

"Did you see the body yourself?"

I had to admit I didn't.

"Well, then you don't know. It came out of my body, I died, and then I took this thing's body. Because of Jesus."

True or not, the creature's story was internally consistent. I was impressed. "That's some story!"

"It's true." She was now snapping together gray Legos with her little claws. We had medieval themed ones set out for her, so she may have been trying to build a castle. "When can I have Big Blue back?"

Big Blue is an azure three foot tall stuffed dog, her most cherished possession. During her long hours of solitude, it has served as her only friend. She curls up against it, speaks to it, and at night she burrows into its chest cavity and sleeps within the stuffing.

The first couple nights she did this, an alarm was raised because we didn't know where she went. The department had the dog confiscated.

"I'm not sure," I said.

She set up a square perimeter of blocks on the green board that comes with the Legos. "Ernie was supposed to sew me a special pouch, like a sleeping bag. Inside him. Has she started yet? No one wants to tell me."

Subject 78453760 has a skill for sewing. She's been allowed knitting tools, but she remains under constant surveillance. Right now, she's working on the Last Supper in needlepoint. I heard nothing about a stuffed dog.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I don't have that information."

"Can you ask someone who does?"

The creature was surprisingly intelligent for her species. I continued to be surprised by how humanlike her thought process was. Her sense of justice, of personal entitlement, her stubbornness...

" I...I can't promise you anything," I said.

The purpose of this interview was to establish what "Newt" is capable of, militaristically speaking. The Ernie specimen proved to be something of a pacifist, so we hoped for a better military application with this one.

To this end, the staff installed sort of a protected movie screen in Newt's cell, running action movies and war films 24-7, with a few shows from the military channel thrown in for good measure. Her favorite so far appears to be _Airwolf_. Of course, despite all the explosions, the program generally tends to be nonviolent and wholesome. The helicopter seldom guns down soldiers on the ground.

And even then, when it came on, she often played with her back to the screen.

"What did you think about the movie last night?" I glanced at a card listing the showings. I would never let a kid watch some of these movies. "... _The Expendables_?

She gave me an indifferent shrug. "It was all right. I didn't like all that violence, though."

An alleged child. Hating the naughty types of films that normal kids would sneak away and watch when their parents aren't looking. This made me smile a little. "How about _The Terminator_? That one had robots in it."

"I guess that was okay," she said, finishing up a second Lego side wall. "Why do you keep showing me violent movies for? Why can't I watch something about wizards and princesses?"

"It's just an experiment," I said.

"I don't like this experiment. It makes it hard for me to sleep. It reminds me of that movie where they poked that guy's eyelids open with toothpicks and made him watch stuff."

Trying to complete the thought, I suggested, " _A Clockwork Orange?_ "

"I...think. Was that the one where the dog throws up in a guy's shoe and gets put in obedience school?"

"No," I said. "That's...something else."

I later found out this was a reference to a rerun of _Amazing Stories_.

"Anyways, I don't like it. I don't like movies where people get all bloody and get killed. I see too much of that in real life."

I stuck with the agenda. "I'm afraid that's a fact of life. It's unavoidable. Even _the bible_ is full of violence..."

"That's not the same thing. Jesus didn't shoot and kill people."

Impressive. Not only was I debating morality with a larval xenomorph, there was theology entering the discussion. "How did you learn about Jesus?"

"From mommy and daddy. They took me to church."

Still consistent with what she previously stated. The creature truly believed she was human in an alien body. "This was when you were human?"

"Yeah."

Human or not, it was not my job to convince her what she was. "Newt, I mean, _Ms. Jorden..._ Do you remember that episode of NCIS we showed you? The one where Dinozo rescues Ziva from that holding cell in the desert?"

"That was kinda boring."

"I mention this because I want to know something. Say one of your friends gets kidnapped by a bad man, and they're being held prisoner in some terrible place. What would _you_ do about it?"

Her castle had four walls now. She put a little man and a flag on the parapet. "I guess I'd...forgive them, and let them _stick me in a cell_ in a _secret military base_."

It seemed even aliens had sarcasm.

"So you think we're bad people."

She shrugged. "When I see those movies, I think of killing people here to escape. But Ernie doesn't want me to, maybe Jesus doesn't either. I pray about it sometimes. Why can't I go outside? I'm tired of being cooped up indoors!"

Her thoughts seemed to bounce from one thing to another, just like a human child. I decided to address the latter question first. "I'm sorry. That's just not safe."

"I'm not going to hurt anyone. Like I said, Ernie said I shouldn't hurt people."

Her argument was convincing, but there were rules. Plus, if she ever snapped... "I'm sorry. It's not possible."

She scampered up to the glass, appearing to stare at me intently. "I saw Canada geese. Can I see Ernie?"

"I'm sorry," I said. "Not yet."

"When?"

I had a sudden flashback of my son pestering me as I typed away on the computer. I shook the thought away, wondering if the creature caught its prey by convincing them to let their guard down.

"I'm sorry. I have to do what upper management tells me."

"Who is the Rook?" she blurted for no reason I could fathom.

"I'm sorry?"

"Who is the Rook? I've heard people talking about him. _Or her._ "

I've heard a few things about this Rook indvidual, but it all seemed to be rumors and stories. For all I knew, it was just a comic book about a time traveler.

"I don't know. What are they saying?"

"They say he's going to bring your foundation to its knees."

A chill ran down my back. "What else have you heard?"

Instead of answering, she said, "I'm tired. I'm going to lay down for awhile."

That's all I got from her.

END OF FILE

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DOCUMENT ID #000741011611602

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Acquired property

Western Wall

Hand written item, transcribed.

Address redacted for security. Some grammatical and spelling errors corrected. Otherwise unchanged.

THIS JOURNAL BELONGS TO ELLEN SIEBERS.

IF FOUND, PLEASE RETURN TO:

XXXX BELL ST.

DO NOT READ!

(First ten pages have been removed, possibly destroyed. Location unknown)

I saw myself in a car accident.

Literally.

Another me.

Mom was driving us back from the supermarket, and we passed the wreck.

We had the soft rock station on. It had gone to a commercial. Dad pointed, muttered something, turned the volume down. Mom slowed the brakes. We were rubbernecking.

A white Nissan had gone turtle. I don't know how it happened, but it was upside down with the roof caved in, the windows broken, everyone inside it dead.

The accident happened in front of that struggling used car business on State Avenue. The one that used to be a dry cleaners, with bars on the windows. They had a chiropractor a block down. No amount of spinal adjustments would help any of them now.

They had wrecked into a pickup. The driver of that vehicle had been sent sailing through his front windshield, his neck snapped. There was blood everywhere.

Dad said the truck had been going too fast, and it sent the other car flying. Or maybe it was the Nissan that had been going too fast.

The gray upholstered interior of my own vehicle suddenly didn't feel so safe.

A family of three had been in the other car. A girl, her mom and dad. They lay bleeding in the wreckage, not moving at all.

When I saw the girl's bloody face, I thought I was having a nightmare. She looked exactly like me!

That same face I saw every day in the mirror, on a little girl dying in an old smashed up 2008 Rogue.

Instead of a hand, I saw a claw at the end of her wrist. A bug-like appendage, like she was some kind of creature from space.

Her sightless glassy eyes seemed to stare right into my own. I ducked behind the little wall next to the car window and hyperventilated.

Ironically, Annie Lennox was on the car stereo, singing about broken glass.

As we rolled past, dad began to notice my shallow breathing. Leaning over his gray cream colored front seat, he asked, "Is everything all right, Ellie?"

I couldn't speak, I was so scared. My heart was doing all kinds of funny things, and I felt like I couldn't get enough air.

Dad's fat bearded face was filled with concern. "Ellie?"

At last, as our Honda neared the house, I managed, "I saw myself. In that accident."

"Yes, honey," he said. "It's called _empathy_. It's completely natural. I felt sorry for them too."

"No!" I shouted. "That dead girl! _She looked exactly like me!_ "

To this mother only chuckled and shook her head. " _Such an imagination_! "

"Looks like we have another novelist on our hands," dad agreed. " _Chip off the old block._ "

I started crying. "You don't understand!"

Mom parked the car at our house, and they both hugged me, tried to calm me down.

Dad told me there was only one me in the entire world.

I wasn't so sure.

Mom said I was traumatized by the wreck, and my imagination was going haywire. I disagreed, but didn't say so.

I stared at the blonde narrow faced woman. Afraid to look her in the eyes, I focused on her jowls, the crow's feet.

I nodded, pretending to agree, but it was an act.

I know what I saw.

There was another me out there.

She's dead.

And I want to know what happened.


	2. Chapter 2: Raggedy Ann

I live in a white split level suburban house. The interior is like one of those model homes that realtors show people.

Everything's neat. Everything has right angles.

A maid comes by once a week to tidy up, and empty mom's change drawer.

Our living room features a home theater system and a complete sofa and loveseat collection. Our dining room commands a view of a back yard with a patio and a hot tub. We have a grand piano.

My room is upstairs, above the garage.

As soon as we entered the house, I told my parents I needed a rest, and be by myself for awhile, to recover from what I saw.

That was the cover story, anyway.

I have always been obsessed with science, and space science. My walls are covered in posters of Saturn and Mars and the surface of the moon. I have star charts, models of the Voyager probe and the Pathfinder. I have a microscope, a chemistry set, a gerbil and a tarantula. My bed set bears the constellations of the Zodiac, the sheets featuring characters from _Ben 10_.

My telescope allows me to get a perfect view of craters of the moon. It also potentially allows me to see what's going on in the bedroom two houses over...or down the street, in the direction of the accident.

I aimed the wide end toward the latter.

I could just barely see the wreck. Too much stuff in the way The upturned car and the pickup looked like parts of a model train set from that distance, even when I adjusted the knobs.

No ambulance.

No police cars.

Instead, I saw a pair of black vans, and a group of figures in white ABC gear carrying the corpses away in clear plastic body bags. One of the men checked the area with a geiger counter while another hosed the blood away.

They winched the smashed pickup onto a flatbed tow truck.

"It's a little early for stargazing, squirt," I heard a voice saying in my ear.

I nearly fell over the railing.

"I don't see any paramedics," I said. "There's just a bunch of guys in Hazmat suits."

Dad chuckled. "You need to stop watching those zombie movies. Your imagination is getting the better of you."

I offered him the telescope.

After looking through the lens for a moment, he said, "The paramedics are in the white suits."

"Why do they have masks and black trucks?" I asked. "Where's the ambulance?"

"I don't see any masks. Or black trucks." Dad fell silent for a minute as he watched. "There's an ambulance," he said at last.

"Where?" I cried. "Let me see!"

Instead of showing me, he folded the telescope up. " _You already saw_ , young lady. Now, I'm going to take this away for awhile, _but if you want to do some real stargazing later on tonight,_ just ask, and we'll take it to the _patio._ " And he carried it out of the room.

I hurried to the bathroom and locked the door, to check my ankle.

I hurt myself on the playground today. I was running, and I got caught on a loose piece of fence.

It left a gaping wound. I should have bled like a stuck pig, but I saw hardly any blood at all.

Even more surprisingly, there was something beneath, something other than muscle and bone.

It looked more like... _armor plating_.

Josh, my school friend, told me not to see the nurse.

"I knew this kid named Sarah who used to go here," he said. "She got hurt and saw something weird, went to the nurse. I never saw her again."

What he said after that chilled me.

"If I were you, I wouldn't even tell your _folks_. I know they mean well, but they might say something to the _nurse_ , or _someone at this school_. They won't understand what they're doing until you disappear."

So I wrapped my ankle in paper towels, washed my sock, and pretended I was fine.

But now, in private, I poked at the armor with a tongue depressor, peeling back the skin around the site. I only found more shell.

I whimpered, afraid to go any further. I kept thinking about a scary movie about a man who walks around with his skin ripped off.

I rinsed out the wound, carefully cleaned it with peroxide, and bound it tight with bandages.

I heard a knock.

"Ellie? Are you all right in there?"

I slammed my back against the door. "I'm fine, daddy," I said with a dramatic groan. "I... _just got the squirts. I think it's something I ate._ I'll be out in a minute."

I made dramatic groans and rude noises until I couldn't hear his footsteps or see a shadow under the door.

I rinsed my sock again, threw it into the hamper, and put on a dirty one, to conceal the bandages until I could change socks.

I crept to my bedroom, almost falling over when I collided with dad's fat belly.

The man knelt in front of me, giving me that concerned parent look that made me cringe.

"Sweetie," he said, placing a plump hand on my shoulder. "I just want you to know what what's happening to your body is a perfectly natural, beautiful thing, and just because you occasionally explore your body or touch yourself, it doesn't mean you're bad, or you did anything wrong."

My ears felt like they were burning.

And then I wondered, is having a strange black shell growing under several layers of fat and skin also natural and beautiful?

"When's dinner?" I asked.

For supper, we had salad and roasted chicken, with cheesecake for dessert. We ate lean like this all the time, which made me wonder why dad wasn't skinny.

I asked him this once, and he said he snacked a lot at work. Bad habit.

Mom and dad don't talk about work. Mom says she works at the hospital, and dad works the finance division at a major company.

Mom says she can't say a lot due to patient confidentiality. Dad says he just works with numbers all day, so there's nothing worthwhile to mention.

"So..." mother said. "Your belt test is on Friday. You think you're ready?"

They pretty much had me practicing karate every day of the week. I rolled my eyes. " _Of course._ "

Dad nodded, grabbing an extra piece of chicken. "She's been practicing enough."

Mom smiled at me. "You're only one belt away from black! Aren't you excited?"

"Yeah," I said, but I couldn't care less. It didn't matter if I liked karate or not. I had to go. I practiced because I had to.

"What else did you do at school today?" dad asked.

My response was educational, and impersonal. I told them what I studied, but now how I ate by myself at lunch, and intentionally made mistakes playing basketball to avoid drawing attention to myself.

I told them about the Austria-Hungary conflict, how to calculate alternate interior angles, and about _Black Boy_ by Richard Wright.

"Can I go ride my bike?" I asked as mom was cleaning up.

Dad sucked air through his teeth. " _I'd rather you didn't_ ," he said. " _Not with that accident down the street_."

After helping put the dishes away, I practiced some katas, then went to my room, feigning sleep.

As my parents looked in, I kept pinching my eyelids shut, breathing slowly and evenly, listening for the sounds of their retreating footsteps.

"Guess she doesn't want to stargaze," dad muttered.

When he pulled the door shut and walked away, I went into stealth mode, slipping out of bed without a sound, stacking heavy boxes of stuff in front of the door with even less noise.

To kill time, and build on the illusion of sleep, I looked into my box of strange oddities.

Most of my oddities are nothing special. A coin flattened on a railroad track, a rock with a natural hole in the center, a hollow robin's egg.

One item, however, was different. A 2160 automotive calendar.

I found it playing around the fence at school a month ago.

I turn the pages, staring at the cars on each page, cars that make the ones running up my street look like antiques.

The Stormbringer Z Gas/Electric Hybrid.

160 MPG.

Autopilot feature.

It's 2016. Why would anyone produce a calendar for a year this far in the future? Is this some kind of gag from a movie studio?

I put it back.

I own a large teddy bear, about the same size as me, and a gold wig I once wore for Halloween. When I put the wig on the bear's head and tucked him under the blankets, he kinda looked like me. A little.

I crept out on the balcony, searching around to see if anyone were observing me.

No one yet, as far as I could tell.

It was a little after dusk, the row of houses across the street appearing to be quiet, with everyone indoors. The building next to me seemed similarly devoid of life.

I crept over the balcony like a noiseless spider, dropping down into the yard below.

I looked around and saw I still hadn't been detected.

A couple doors down, a Hispanic man was working on his aqua colored SUV. I nearly jumped into the bushes when his woofers blasted the neighborhood with Spanish rap.

My folks hated that music. Me, I thought it was catchy.

I glanced back at the house to see if my parents had been disturbed, but I saw no sign of them.

My pink bicycle still stood behind the hedge where I left it. I guess my parents hadn't noticed this either. I pedaled out to the scene of the accident before anyone could catch me.

Of course by then all the major evidence had been cleaned up. I saw no signs of license plates, identification, insurance papers or anything else I could use to learn more about the mysterious victims. Mostly I just saw shattered glass, a few random car parts (like a piece of a tail light), a toy monster truck, and a couple pieces of trash (a styrofoam cup and a soda can).

I stuffed the monster truck in my pocket. I thought this was going to be a wasted trip until I found the Raggedy Ann doll off to one side of the road.

On the surface, it was nothing, but the doll felt strangely... _heavy_ , and it had an _address_ sewn to the inside of its outfit.

I saw a black truck approaching. No time to examine it further. I stuffed it in the basket of my bike and pedaled home.

Honestly, I hadn't thought my plan through this far. My only thought had been to find out about the dead girl. The fact I had evidence and had to get back into my upstairs bedroom posed something of a problem.

I don't know why scaling the vinyl siding seemed like such a good idea, but I foolishly made the attempt.

Like a dog, I clamped the doll's clothes in my teeth. It tasted like blood and chemicals, but I wanted answers, so I kept it in my mouth as my fingers locked on the plastic slats.

I only got about halfway up the sheer surface before I slipped.

I thought for sure I would fall to the ground and make a bunch of noise, but at the last second, something sticky kept my palms attached to the slick surface.

The accident scene was dirty. I thought I had gotten something on my hands, so I just went with it, using the renewed traction to get me the rest of the way up the wall.

Once up on the balcony, I set the doll and the monster truck by the window.

It was a good thing I did, for the moment I climbed into my room, I found mom sitting on my bed, with the wig wearing bear on her lap.

"Did you have a nice ride?" she asked.

All I could think to say was, "Um."

"That was very sneaky," she said. " _I probably would have bought it, had you not_ _stacked all those boxes in front of the door._ "

I sighed.

She shook her head, making tsk noises. "That's what I get for letting you watch that prison break movie."

I could see she was trying to fight down a laugh. She set the bear down on the blankets. "So what did you see?"

"Nothing," I stammered.

"You were really obsessed about that crash. Are you _certain_ you didn't see anything?"

I shook my head violently. "The... _people_...they cleaned it all up before I could see anything."

She gave me a sigh like she knew I was holding back. "How did you get up here?"

I shrugged. "I... _climbed._ "

I had no good explanation for her, other than being small and gripping the slats very hard.

" _Why if it isn't the Junior Birdman of Alcatraz!_ " dad joked when he came in. "Or maybe _birdette_?"

I climbed under my covers with a dramatic yawn. "I _really am_ tired now," I said.

Dad rubbed my head. Mother kissed me.

"Good night."

I had to feign sleep twice as long this time, but they at last disappeared, and I could close and block the door once more. If they asked, I could say I got up, thought I had to pee, but then found I didn't, so I closed the door.

I grabbed Raggedy Ann, examining her with a pen light.

Ellen Ripple, it said. XXXX Suntree Plz, XXXXX KS.

The doll appeared to be completely ordinary until I examined the seams along the back.

On one side, I found a line of white thread that didn't match the one on the left.

The thread looked _loose_. Not only that, the type of fiber appeared to be _dental floss_.

I carefully pried the seam open and discovered someone else's collection of oddities: A folded map, a Rook playing card (the number seven), a magnetic card key in a plastic sleeve, a flash drive and...one of those small ladies' pistols, like the ones the burlesque girls slip into their garters in all those westerns. I gasped when I saw the weapon, looking anxiously over my shoulder to see if anyone had noticed.

The gun had no ammo in it, so I pointed it at a window and pulled the trigger. The noise was so loud that I quickly put the pistol away, to avoid being discovered.

The bullets were inside an Altoids tin, packed in dirt to prevent their rattling.

I held my breath for a moment, listening for any sound outside the door, from the hallway.

Hearing nothing, I stuck the flash drive in my computer, exploring the folders.

The first one had the label `Current Events,' but when I opened it, I found it contained nothing but articles and video from 2160, like someone had put together an elaborate hoax.

In one story, a bunch of Moslem organizations purchased the majority of New York City, then used thousands of hacked social media accounts to threaten the entire city, and later the state, into "voluntarily" declaring itself part of the United Arab Emirates, of which France was now a part. Americans _voted_ for it, so it was "democratic".

Due to global flooding, Hawaii and California dropped beneath the waves. Film studios now used Salt Lake City as the new Hollywood. Deep sea divers in the Pacific uncovered hundreds of tons' worth of Hormel Spam per year. Many species of fish have bled to death attempting to pry meat out of those rusty metal cans.

Disney World was moved to a barge, due to Florida also being underwater. Once a year, it connects with the Disneyland barge, and there's a big festival.

Elephants are extinct. Whales are extinct. Sharks are extinct.

Pandas, gone. Tigers, gone. Squirrels and sparrows overpopulated the country. Car washing services boom due to all the bird droppings.

Androids exist. Religious leaders write cute articles advising against them, as they tend to break up marriages.

Child marriage is legal in Utah, gay and straight. The Supreme Court overturned age old laws against pedophilia. In some places you could even marry pets and sheep.

I cringed as I read all this, wondering how I was going to be able to sleep tonight.

The readme file contained one line of text: "Don't trust your parents. They are not who you think."

I thought about daddy's little `birds-and-the bees' talk and shuddered.

The other folders had pictures in them. One was of an electric fence above a rock outcrop at the edge of a park.

For some reason, a high resolution scan of the playing card was also included. If it had any significance, it wasn't anything I could decipher. Seven could mean anything.

Then I saw _the girl_ , with her family.

The parents looked different, but they had an identical house, and the girl also went to karate. One picture showed her standing proud in her black belt.

She was in the Girl Scouts. Chess Team. Just like me. The pictures were mirror images of the ones in my house. A chill ran down my back.

I found official looking documents, scanned papers from some place called DAMBALLAH. Large amounts of landscape photographs had been included with these files, giving me the impression that the other Ellen had been attempting reconnaissance around the organization.

Before I could get a closer look at anything, I heard dad calling, "Ellie? What are you doing?"

"What?" I cried, playing dumb as I shut off the computer.

"I know you're not asleep. I saw a light in there."

"I couldn't sleep, so I watched some cat videos," I said, hiding the thumb drive. "I'm sorry. I'm done now. For real."

"Let me know if you're still having trouble. I'll get you some warm milk."

I nodded, though he couldn't see it through the door. "Okay, dad. Good night."

After he left, I tried to sleep, but couldn't.

Me and this girl had the same first name.

We were identical in just about every aspect.

But this part about 2160. How could all that be real?

Yet who would fake such a thing?

If it really were that far in the future, how was it that I could go online and be able to see the internet updating, in real time, day by day, as if it were actually 2016? And what about the _people_?

The deception would have to be elaborate, one requiring hundreds of people, pretty much everyone around me participating in the act. We're talking about something straight out of _The Matrix_.

Was the warning about parents for me? Or was this flash drive prepared for the dead girl by someone else? If the former, how did she know? If the latter, who did this?

I took out the card key, turning it over in my hands. It was the same on both sides, white with a faded yellow band running down the center, marked with a bold capital T. Trainee, perhaps.

I pulled the map out of the doll, unfolding it under my blankets. I examined it with my pen light.

It showed the streets of our city, with marker lines diagramming where a park was, and some hidden place beyond.

I recognized the place. It lay just a few blocks down from my house.

I _had_ to go there. Only then would I find answers.

But first...I had to give my _other home_ a visit.

When I opened my box of oddities, to add the new items, I suddenly noticed my calendar was missing.

 _I_ hadn't moved it.

Maybe the warning on the disk wasn't just for her.

Maybe I couldn't trust _my parents_.

Breakfast was awkward. I had several things I couldn't say, and dad seemed hesitant to say anything to me.

Mom and dad glanced at each other uncomfortably.

After a long silence, mother said, "I found a bloody sock in the laundry."

I paled. "I...think I just had _my first period_."

"Sometimes I wonder if sex ed is better taught in the home," dad muttered. "At least then we can _pretend_ _that our child is innocent for a little longer._ "

" _At least she knows what's going on_ ," mother said.

The conversation prompted her to bring me tampons. My facial blood stopped draining from my face and flooded my cheeks, but I was glad they at least were talking about _that_ and not the chitinous black thing under my skin.

Plus, well, _it doesn't hurt to be prepared_...

It wasn't practical to bring the doll to school. Not with the gun inside. I wasn't even sure I could use the flash disk there, so I only took the map and the card key. I scribbled the doll's address on the map, stuffing the items in my book bag. The rest I would leave in the doll.

Outside. On the balcony.

My parents would catch me if I skipped school, so I decided to skip the last period bus instead. _That_ would be the hour to begin my search, maybe earlier.

I go to T.S. Rodgers Academy, a fancy name for a self important middle school. It's just your average brownstone cube, with well mown lawns, a message sign, and a flagpole out front. The school mascot, a tiger, is painted on the floor in the main lobby.

According to the flash drive, the mascot might as well be a dodo bird. Or a dragon. Meaningless. Interchangeable with the ones belonging to all the other me's.

Our classrooms are small and cramped. Budget cuts. Of course, my school doesn't have that many kids in it anyway.

Rodgers has a balanced racial demographic, but that doesn't mean I have a lot of friends. It just looks good on paper. People of both colors give me the cold shoulder, suspicious looks. I'm okay with some of them as study partners or what have you, but we would never meet outside of school.

Okay, so I _did_ go to karate with Lacy, Josh and Kamara, but I don't share classes with them this semester. Or lunch.

The moment I set foot in my first class of the day, I acted super normal. I studied about the Bolshevik Revolution, took a geometry test, went to lunch. By myself.

I met up with my friends at recess. Josh is a blonde kid with an overbite and a constant smirking expression, like he has a joke on his lips that he's just itching to tell.

Lacy is kind of a tomboy, her hair straw colored and carelessly shaped, her eyes naturally baggy for some reason. She dressed in plaid and denim, sort of like a lumberjack.

And then there's Kamara, who didn't get the memo that Afros were out of style. Regardless, she's cute, and she didn't wear farmer clothes.

These are the closest thing I have to friends. A couple times, they've stopped me in the bathroom and pulled down my pants to see what kind of underwear I was wearing, but other than that, they're cool.

The schoolyard is fenced in all around with ivy colored chain link, some sections dangerously bent out enough to cut you. A couple exits lead out to the crosswalk, and the neighborhood beyond. I occasionally get to play in the schoolyard after school. They have tetherball, basketball, and a miniature obstacle course.

During our unstructured free time, me and my friends went to the back corner of the yard, speaking in hushed whispers beneath the old sweetgum tree.

I showed them my injured ankle, the addresses on the folded up map. I told them about the wreck and everything. "I think now is the only safe time to go check it out. My parents...seem to know more than they're saying, and if I tell them I'm trying to locate a house from an address I found at the scene of an accident, they're not going to let me go."

"Can't you just _lie_?" Lacy asked.

I shook my head. "I just sneaked out on my bike yesterday. And my calendar is gone. I think either mom and dad took it. What if they take the map and the address too?"

"So you're _just going to skip school_ ," said Kamara. She was always the goody two shoes type.

"That girl looked just like me," I said. "And she might not be the only one, if Josh was right about the other girl."

"I know for a _fact_ she didn't look like you," Josh said.

"What if you hide the stuff somewhere safe and pick it up later?" Lacy asked.

I frowned. "What if they still find it? What if this is the only way I'll be able to find out what's going on?"

"So," Kamara said. "How do you propose to get out?"

"I got it covered," Josh said. "Lace. How do you feel about a little _sparring session?_ "

She grinned. "Lead the way!"

Up by the basketball goal, in full view of the yard monitors, Lacy slugged Josh in the stomach, then hit him in the face.

Josh responded in kind, and the other kids rushed in to get a ringside seat for the action.

I dove out the exit, hiding behind the wall of ivy.

The crossing guard was on the opposite end of the street, with the back of her orange vest turned to me. I had mere seconds to get out of her line of sight.

The moment I darted around the corner, I heard a series of loud cracks.

When I peered over the fence, I saw a man with a machine gun opening fire on my classmates.

I noticed the blinds in all the windows facing the schoolyard had been closed, as if the faculty had prepared for this in advance.

As they all lay bleeding on the blacktop, I saw the man pressing his gun into Josh's dead fingers with a gloved hand. They were going to make this look like another Columbine.

I ran away from there as quickly as I could.

[0000]

* * *

Note: This story is long. You can order a printed copy of Book 1 (Chapters 1-19) at Lulu. I get one cent for each copy. The price you see there is how much it costs to print and mail the item.


	3. Chapter 3: Agnes

My vision blurred with tears, but I knew I had to keep moving.

Across the busy intersection near me, there stood a wealthy, its entrance guarded by a pair of stone lions. I darted between cars to get there without being seen, diving behind a clump of decorative landscaping. Only then did I allow myself the full luxury of crying.

What was going on here? Why would someone want to kill a bunch of kids in cold blood? What did they really do to deserve all that?

Whatever it was, things were more serious than I thought. And that _girl_ Josh told me about? She _had_ to be dead.

I stopped crying and caught my breath, searching for possible dangers around me.

I was hardly safe. Although out of view of the people from Rodgers, anyone coming from the other side of the street could see me.

The houses on this block all looked like small mansions, fancy wood and stone structures with big yards. All owned BMW's and Lexuses. The landscaping afforded me some cover, but many had yards resembling golf courses. Admittedly, my house was nice, but not as nice as these places.

I saw nobody moving around on the porches, but a woman walked a Shih Tzu down the opposite sidewalk. I hid behind a car to avoid her.

I climbed over the nearest wall of hedges, creeping through someone's back yard.

This property happened to be smaller than its neighbor. They had a trampoline and a little garden with a brick path.

My passage appeared to be undetected until I tried climbing the opposite hedge into the next property.

A Doberman greeted me from the other side, snarling and barking so loud I thought the whole city would hear.

On impulse, I retreated from there, trying the back door of the house I trespassed upon.

Open.

I tiptoed into the building, eyes wide with nervous fear.

The interior, to my surprise, looked empty. No furniture, no decor, the floors and banister railings covered with a thin layer of dust. I tiptoed from room to room, but only found bare hardwood floors.

It made no sense. A tidy, well manicured lawn, flowers and plants blooming and well tended, the front porch swing varnished and oiled, with a pitcher of iced tea on the table, like someone was just there an hour ago, but nothing on the inside.

I had an inclination to squat there a few days, hiding from whoever killed those school kids, but then I thought about the iced tea. Someone _had_ to be coming through here regularly, to maintain the facade, someone I didn't want to meet. It would be best to leave quickly.

I studied the map.

The Damballah stood clear on the other side of the city. I was strong and patient enough to make the trip, but the Ellen Ripple place lay only a few blocks away.

I hurried back out.

I could still hear the dog barking. I couldn't go that way.

I climbed a different hedge, staring into the yard behind the building. It looked like a mirror image of the one I was in.

In fact... _I could see a Doberman in the next door neighbor's yard_.

So yard jumping wouldn't work. I'd have to climb into the yard behind me and sneak up the street.

The other house had a blue swing and a Power Wheels car near the trampoline, but the house was empty, just like the other one.

I did the army crawl through the front yard of the Doberman house. I briefly considered smashing their basement window and getting in, but it had a Brinks sticker on it, and I didn't want to alert the whole neighborhood to my presence. Plus, didn't know if the dog would be able to come in after me.

They had shrubs around the bottom of the porch, so I crawled through them, anxiously peering through the gaps.

A black unmarked van slowly patrolled the area. I kept perfectly still, waiting for it to leave.

After it was gone, I hurried over the wrought iron fence of the yard next door.

Astroturf. The tool shed was an unused prop, the house locked but obviously empty.

The black van came by again when I crossed the next fence. I wasn't sure if they saw me, but I made sure to hide until it disappeared again, winding through back yards, or the occasional front yard when a German shepherd or a feisty lab reared its snarling head. I repeated this slow process until I reached the end of the block.

I was edging around the front of the last house when I saw the black van stop in the middle of the street.

A man got out, dressed in the same dark clothing I saw the shooter wearing. I ducked behind a tree and kept going.

Although mostly running and hiding, I had a definite aim. My current heading would take me to the dead girl's house, sooner or later.

I crossed an intersection, arriving at some sort of high rise medical complex. White concrete building, pillars, a large fountain and well tended shrubs in big rectangular concrete planters.

Seeing figures in scrubs stepping out the front entrance, I crouched behind a bush, watching them stroll idly up the front walk, muttering something to one another.

A few more minutes later, a pair of men in gray jumpsuits pushed a small gurney out of the sliding doors. A dead body lay on this stretcher, shrouded in sheets, but instead of taking it somewhere logical, like an ambulance or a hearse, I saw them loading it into the back of an air conditioner repair truck.

I didn't know what was going on, but I felt too scared to find out.

I carefully skirted the building, winding on through the surrounding neighborhoods until I at last arrived at _the house_.

Standing in the shadow of a seedy Day's Inn and a U-Haul company, the Ripple house turned out to be a split level similar to mine, but it had yellow vinyl siding, and the property stood on the right side of the street.

Suspecting that great minds thought alike, I scaled the side of the building, to climb into the balcony. Despite the slick walls, it seemed oddly easy to reach the upstairs window, but I figured I just had a lot of practice.

The room beyond the balcony looked like mine. I noticed a few differences, like a model train set in one corner, the X-Box 360, and strange looking educational toys, but Ripple had the same bedsheets, the space stuff, a gerbil and a tarantula.

As I took in my surroundings, I suddenly jumped back in alarm.

A woman was leaning in the doorway!

Somehow she had made an appearance without making any noise. I backed toward the window.

"Ellie?" the woman said. "Is that you?"

She was a narrow, witch-like woman with a long pointy nose and scraggly gray hair.

"...no." I said.

She hurried into the room. "I heard about the accident! _I was so worried!_ "

It was then that I began to wonder if this were such a good idea.

"Who are you?" I asked, my back now against the window.

"Is that any way to talk to your Aunt Agnes?"

"Um, sorry," I stammered. "It's been... _a rough day._ "

She sighed, crossing her arms as she stared at me. " _I heard that all three of you had_ died. _The car flipped over, and there were no survivors._ "

"I got lucky,' I lied.

The woman's eyes darted back and forth nervously. "Where's the doll?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I stammered.

Before I could prepare myself, she grabbed me around the throat and yanked up my hair, staring at my scalp.

The woman gasped, throwing the curtains shut.

"Why aren't you at school?"

I refused to answer, for fear that it might incriminate me.

"You shouldn't be here!" Agnes hissed. "People will be looking for you. Your _parents_ , especially."

"My parents are dead," I said.

The woman frowned. "Nice try."

"A man at school just shot my friends. He made it look like Josh did it."

This gave Agnes pause. "You should see your parents."

"No," I said. "They'll turn me in."

Agnes let out a deep breath. "We need to hide you. Somewhere where it's _safe._ "

"There's plenty of _abandoned buildings_ ," I suggested.

She shook her head. "They're not as abandoned as you might think. _There are silent alarms. Who do you think is feeding the_ dogs?"

I shuddered.

The woman rubbed her chin, lost in thought.

At last she said, "We're going to have to get you out of town, maybe out of state. I have to warn you. It'll be a _shock._ _It isn't 2016_."

" _I know,_ " I said.

She grabbed me by the shirt. "Where is the doll!"

"It's at my house!" I blurted.

Agnes let go. "Shit! A lot of good it's doing _there!_ "

"You wanted me to take a Lady's Remington to school?"

She frowned. "Would you like dinner?"

I shook my head with such force that she cried, "You would have thought I were offering you _poison!_ "

"How do I know you're not?" I said. "Why were those people at the hospital loading that body into the back of a repair truck?"

Agnes looked unsurprised. _"Too much knowledge is a dangerous thing."_

She clamped a hand around my shoulder. "Stay in this room until nightfall. No lights, no noise. We leave after dark."

As she slowly pulled the door to the closed position, she gave one final piece of instruction that made me shiver: " _I know you want to run away right now, but there are cameras everywhere..._ Even when you think nobody's watching, someone inevitably is. You'd better hope and pray that nobody saw you climb in that window."

I stared at her in silent horror.

"Trust me. You're better off here. With me."

The door clicked shut.

I crept over to the desk, quietly cracking it open to peer inside, but before I could get a good look at anything, I heard a man's footsteps in the outside hallway, and talking.

I crawled under the bed and hid.

About an hour later, the door came open, and I saw a plate of roasted chicken and salad being slid in. The door closed again.

I shoved the plate under the far corner of the bed and didn't touch it. Instead, I occupied my time prying a loose piece of metal plating off the headboard. This I hid up my pant leg.

I fell asleep. I hated myself for it, but there wasn't anything to do.

I awoke to the woman shaking me. "C'mon, let's go."

The man was gone, so I figured we were safe.

The woman owned a silver Town and Country. She led me out to it in the dark, no disguise or anything. I thought at least we'd do like _E.T._ and use a ghost disguise, but no. Once we were in the van, she had me lay down on the floor, and we took off.

I rolled over on my back, but didn't see much of anything. There weren't many stars out, but the moon illuminated the clouds above us. We passed under a lot of street lamps and telephone poles. That's pretty much all I could see.

"You didn't eat your chicken," Agnes said, facing forward like she spoke to someone else.

"I wasn't hungry," I said.

"How about _thirsty_? Feeling thirst at all?"

She opened a cooler next to her seat, tossing me a bottle of red Powerade. "How about that?"

I had to admit, I _was_ incredibly thirsty.

I sat up a little and drank a few swigs, peeking out the corners of the windows.

The signs of civilization had disappeared, replaced by a tunnel of trees.

The van bumped over something, stopped, and Agnes got out. In the headlights, I saw her opening a gate on a gravel road.

"You can sit up now," the woman said when she got back in. "We're here."

"Where's here?" I asked, but instead of answering she pulled inside the gate and got out to close it behind us.

She returned to the driver's seat and we rumbled down the road.

At this point, my head got swimmy, like I had a cold and mom gave me The Nyquil Haze. My vision blurred as I faded in and out of consciousness.

We arrived at a farm. No animals or crops except weeds, but they had a barn, lots of trees and fields, and a pair of mobile homes on blocks. No one in sight for miles. In the distance I could see a ramshackle old house.

Someone carried me out of the van. Not just Agnes, but _the man_.

It was the shooter, I'm sure of it.

I awoke on an ugly yellow sofa inside a trailer, with a tick crawling up my arm. I flicked it away, then carefully picked another off my skin as it was trying to bury its head into me.

The carpeting was pea green shag. I could see more parasites hiding in it. The trailer had an antique looking wood stove, an old black and white television, and a walk-in kitchen, its counter right above my head.

I peered through a door at the opposite end of the sofa and found it lead into that old house I saw when I first arrived. Dusty, filled with junk and cobwebs.

I found Agnes busy in the kitchen, cooking bacon on an electric skillet. " _Someone's_ _awake."_

Boots clamped down the plastic carpet shielding in the connecting corridor, then the man entered the room.

I shrank instinctively at the sight of him.

Black hair and a wrinkly face, big ears and baggy eyes. The expression was cold, humorless.

"Hello, Ellie," he said in a monotone voice. "My name is _Tom Bishop_. Agnes and I are going to be taking care of you for awhile, _if that's all right with you."_

"You drugged me," I said.

He shrugged. "We couldn't have you _jumping out and running away_. _You're very important._ "

A key rack hung on a post at the corner of the kitchen counter. I glanced at it nervously as the man stepped closer.

"You killed all those kids," I said. "Didn't you?"

Tom gave me a look that might be construed as guilt. " _They violated the terms of their contract."_

"Contract?" I repeated. "What contract?"

The man smirked. " _I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say._ What I _can_ tell you is this: They have compromised a program essential in cultivating something from you, and I'm here to correct the damage."

I sat back on the couch, reaching into my pant leg. When I found the piece of metal gone, I panicked.

"You've probably noticed by now that this farm has a tick infestation," Tom said, stepping around a coffee table. " _We've reverse engineered them to distribute a few interesting compounds."_

He leaned over the couch. "Why did you run away from school?"

My hand slipped between the couch cushions, and I felt the stolen piece of bed frame poking me. "I...don't know."

The man sat down next to me. "It was your _leg_ , wasn't it?"

He undid the bandage on my leg.

"There's no need to be afraid," he said. "We're only going to study you a little, and eventually take you to a place where there's other girls like you."

I pulled out the piece of headboard plating, stabbing the man in the throat.

Instead of blood, something like milk sprayed out.

I didn't think. I just grabbed Agnes's transponder keys and ran out the door.

The van was a little unfamiliar in its configuration. When I first attempted to open it, the side doors slid open, and the panic alarm went off. I quickly deactivated it, but then I was faced with another challenge when I got behind the wheel.

The key was itself a transponder, not a key, and the shift lever sat on the wheel, rather than by the seat like other vehicles of its type.

The black van had been parked next to my ride. I wondered how I would be able to steal Agnes's van without getting caught until I noticed the small Swiss army knife dangling from my keychain.

I stabbed the knife into one of the tires on the other vehicle until air rushed out, then jumped into the Chrysler.

I started the vehicle, pushing the accelerator to the floor. It roared up the bumpy gravel road, sending up a huge cloud of dust in its wake. Twice I came close to wrecking into a tree, or flipping over as I took a sharp turn, but the van made it, and I found myself barreling toward the gate.

As I stopped to pull it open, I could hear the other van crunching up the road behind me. Apparently they were speedy repair people, in addition to being kidnappers.

I got back in, speeding off down the road in a random direction because I didn't know where I was.

They had left my map in my jeans pocket, I guess because they didn't think it important. I pulled it out, glancing at it as I tried to keep the van on course.

In the rearview, I saw a tiny black object approaching from the distance. I had a lead on them, but not by that much.

The street and highway names were bewildering. Even with the map, I found myself lost. I was drove for some time before I passed through something more easily identifiable.

Iconium. More of a speedbump than a town. It had a dilapidated old general store, a laundry, a firehouse, a cemetery, and some houses. That's about it. At least the weathered wooden sign gave me a dot to pinpoint on the map.

A Boy Scout was crossing the street with an ice cream cone in each hand. Still going about seventy miles an hour, I swerved, narrowly avoiding a fatality.

In the rearview, I saw the other van pulling up to a gas pump in front of the store. I guess they had neglected to fill up.

Unfortunately, I had only a quarter of a tank left myself.

Me, with no money.

Although I appreciated the head start, I couldn't help but wonder, why would they stop in mid-chase to refuel? Were they that overconfident that they'd find me again?

The street lamps and telephone poles made a reappearance in greater numbers, and with it came other signs of civilization.

I flinched as a cop car chirped behind me.

On top of speeding, he could book me for driving a stolen vehicle, and driving without a license, underage.

I kept driving. In standard cop fashion, my pursuer took it calmly, saying without words, `I can keep this up longer than you can.'

My fuel meter dropped as we passed through city limits. No doubt this would end with a stalled engine and a ride in the police car.

Suddenly, inspiration struck me in the form of two words: Blue River.

The idea was incredibly risky, on the level with something a movie stuntman would coordinate, but I preferred death to whatever these people had planned for me.

The river lay up ahead, a wide band of dingy brown. Its green sign heralded its approach.

Quickly, I pushed the automatic sliding door and trunk opening buttons.

As I crossed the river's narrow bridge, I gave the wheel a sharp wrench to the right, jumping in the back seat when the van lurched over the aluminum guard rail.

I do my own stunts.

They tell drivers, for safety, to roll up their windows and lock their doors, to prevent injury during accidents. Oh, and seatbelts, of course.

If you don't know what you're doing, you can fly out a window, or get part of your body pinned under the rolling car, or chopped off by a door.

I didn't relish being guillotine sliced by sliding doors, so I kept hyper aware of my surroundings, gripping whatever item of highest gravitational security I could find at each point of the roll, until the van at last hit water.

When the brown liquid rushed in, I was ready. I took a gulp of air and swam out the trunk, searching for a place to hide until the cop went away.

My eyes stung as I searched the cloudy mire. I couldn't surface, for obvious reasons, so I pretty much had to wander blindly in the murky depths until I encountered something.

I swam into a corrugated storm drain pipe. There was a gap between the water and the highest part of the pipe, so I pressed my face up there, inhaling deeply. It smelled bad, but I had more important things to worry about.

I swam to the opposite end of the pipe, peeking up at the bridge.

A pair of black shoes paced the asphalt, the man's voice muttering something into his crackling radio. A garbled voice crackled back at him.

I waited for what seemed like an eternity, shivering in the water. My map had to be ruined by now, but I had the general gist of where I needed to go.

Instead of coming down to search the wreckage, I saw the man's shoes clopping back to the Crown Vic. The door opened and closed again.

The vehicle turned and drove away.

Once certain I was not observed, I scrambled onto a rocky shore, pausing for a moment to catch my breath and rest.

Without thinking, I snapped my hand out and grabbed a rat, twisting its neck.

The thing was all bones, but I was licking my fingers before I realized that I had eaten it raw.

I pulled the soggy map out of my pocket and found it readable.

I was within four miles of the Damballah place.

I crossed a golf course and slipped through suburban neighborhoods, careful to avoid being spotted by anyone. Along the way I ate a Persian cat.

It was near dusk by the time I reached the critical landmark: Jacob Volker Memorial Park.

The park wasn't much to look at, mostly a stretch of grass along a tall rock wall. It had a bike trail, a jungle gym and a barbecue area to one end. I also saw a miniature Arc Di Triumph, some monument to World War I, defaced with spraypaint and shattered beer bottles.

I spotted the place from the photographs right away.

The other Ellie seemed obsessed with taking pictures of a little cave-like opening to one side of the cliff. Deciding there was something to this, I scaled the wall on that side.

The outcrop stood a story higher than the roof of my house, but I found it only slightly more difficult than the rock wall in the school gym.

By the time I reached the top, the blue hours of twilight had fallen.

Above the cave I could see the electric fence, which even now my sensitive ears could hear crackling. I could see nothing but trees beyond the thing, but I intended to find out what was there, one way or another.

This cave, I thought, could be the way in.

I took out my pen light, nervously creeping into the cave.

My pitiful light did almost nothing to illuminate the gloom of the pitch black interior. I frequently stumbled over rocks.

I wandered in deeper. Liquid dripped from the roof, condensation, perhaps. A pungent vinegary odor filled the chamber.

I heard an animal hiss, and my heart nearly leapt into my throat.

I waved my torch around like a primitive, prepared to flee.

Before me, I could see a pair of glistening black dome-like heads on sinuous necks. The nearest creature hissed threateningly as it approached, opening its maw to devour me.

In my mind's eye, I could see it distending its jaw, steaming saliva dripping from its open mouth. I could see the long fanged shaft emerge, one that, if brought close enough to a human skull, could crack it open like a soft boiled egg.

The creature came closer to me. I could feel its hot steaming breath.

It raised its great arms, seeming to enfold me in shadow.

The monster growled, its feet clicking rocks in the dark. It let out a heavy breath, and hissed. The shell of its vaguely insect-like body appeared to rattle.

Uttering another menacing hiss, the dark shadowy beast tensed, then launched itself at me.

"Honk honk honk honk honk honk!"

I screamed as a pair of feathery wings beat me backwards, out the mouth of the cave, sending me sailing over the cliff.

Damn Canada geese.

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611603

* * *

Damballah Project

Weyland-Yutani Ind.

Rosedale Manors Facility

Subject 2294903: "Julie"

This subject's interview chamber looks like something belonging to the nutty grandpa on that old sitcom, _Soap_. Dressed up like an army bunker, bedecked with camo netting, military flags and green canvas, it contains several military grade weapons, including mortars, a M240 and an M192.

Despite being told that each weapon only fires blanks or nothing at all (such as the scaled down dummy Howitzer) I couldn't help but feel that a bulletproof glass wall wasn't enough protection for this interview.

My side of the chamber has the typical bland institutional design, a framed picture of General Stillwell and a Stealth Bomber being the only points of interest.

The place made me feel like I were in a museum of military history, but I understood that management sought to influence the creature psychologically.

The pale xenomorph used a gray survival knife to carve a picture of a cat into the wooden table next to the glass. I thought the weapon was an especially unwise choice of items to place in the creature's cell, but management believed that this larva, more than others, had the greatest potential for military trainability, if some of its pacifistic tendencies could be bent.

I began my interview.

RDS: Your name is Julia, right?

JULIE: (Nods) Mother named me after an early Christian from the book of Acts.

RDS: How is it that you can speak and read English?

JULIE: I joined minds with David Barnes and Host Mommy.

She refers to our human subjects from Fiorina 161, and LV 426: Numbers 945464286 and 71641.

Julia calls 71641 `Host Mommy' due to allegedly being hatched from the woman's birth canal rather than the traditional grisly process of erupting from a victim's chest cavity. The woman lived, so Julia has taken to using this affectionate nickname.

Subject 71641 currently shows signs of early pregnancy, the genotype matching that of 945464286, despite the latter's claim that coitus had been interrupted. The fetus is one hundred percent human.

RDS: How did you do that? How did you connect minds?

JULIE: I have a _ssujmarrux_. I put it inside their noses and it connected with their brains.

RDS: Could you demonstrate this tongue?

JULIE: Are you going to come in here? I would love to share minds with you!

Note: This idea has potential, if done in the proper controlled environment. Will forward to R&D.

RDS: (Shudders) No thank you. Maybe some other time. I only wish to see how you do it.

JULIE: You're not going to really see anything until it connects with somebody, but...

The larva distended its jaw, and a cluster of long tentacles emerged. She sucked them back in to speak.

JULIE: That's what I used.

RDS: Interesting. Is it really true that you were born from an actual womb?

JULIE: Yes. Mom didn't want to hurt Sarah, but they both desired offspring. Pillow and the others built a...bubble for me, so Host Mommy wouldn't get hurt.

Subject 9585239 is an extraterrestrial named Pillow Barnes, wife of 945464286. The fact that David, his mistress, and Pillow have been assigned cells adjacent to each other is a rather unfortunate piece of bureaucratic work, but their shared faith has kept the peace up until this point.

These persons will be explored in greater depth in future interviews.

JULIE: (Points to the cat picture she's finished) What do you think?

RDS: (Leaning against the glass to look) It's...uh... _cute._

JULIE: (Sets the knife down) Why have you surrounded me with all these weapons?

It was here that I found myself unable to frame a response. If I told her the true purpose was for recruitment, she might take it the wrong way and we'd never have her enlisted. But I had to tell her _something_.

RDS: I don't know. A lot of children... _like army toys_. I thought you'd be interested in playing with the real deal.

JULIE: Oh. (Starts building a little tower out of bullets, hopefully blanks)

RDS: Are you Ernie's only child?

JULIE: No. There's Newt.

RDS: I thought that one belonged to your grandmother.

JULIE: Technically yes, but Ernie is the only one who truly understands her.

RDS: So no one else? No other children?

JULIE: Well, there was _one_ , but she died. (Takes apart a handgun).

RDS: What was her name?

JULIE: Shauqauzjarruba. Every time I mention her, it makes mommy sad.

RDS: And why's that?

JULIE: Mommy sinned. She lost control and laid an egg in a man. She was very sorry afterwards, and she didn't love her baby like she should.

RDS: Will you lay eggs when you get older?

JULIE: I hope so. I want to find a nice host mommy just like Sarah and mother a larva just like mom did!

RDS: What if that never happens? What if you never find that kind of host?

JULIE: Mommy said I must have faith, and God will provide.

RDS: What if God doesn't provide?

JULIE: Are you an atheist?

RDS: Does that matter?

JULIE: It is if you want to go to heaven.

RDS: So you are actively abstaining from laying an egg until you have a willing host.

JULIE: (Nods) I don't want to hurt anyone.

RDS: And why is that?

JULIE: God says not to kill. It's right in the ten commandments.

RDS: Actually, I've heard that it's `thou shalt not _murder_ '. That's why the Israelites in the bible could freely destroy the Philistines and people of other nations.

JULIE: You're talking about a _Just War_.

RDS: Yes. You're familiar with the term?

JULIE: It was in David's mind. World War Two was just because we stopped Hitler from killing Jews. Vietnam, not so much. Army people cut off people's body parts and made necklaces.

RDS: Right now our people are fighting a... _Just War_ , Julia. We'd like for you to help us.

JULIE: What did you want me to do?


	4. Chapter 4: Kamara

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611605

* * *

Damballah Project

Weyland-Yutani Ind.

Rosedale Manors Facility

Subject 945464285: "Golic"

We interview all our human subjects in a basic no frills interrogation room. It looks like a gutted public restroom, with a table (handcuff bar included) and a two way mirror. The builders chose to paint it an ugly green color.

Subject 945464285 (Walter Golic, Fiorina 161 inmate, serial YY92740) sits before me, slowly devouring a box full of fried chicken, which he has accepted as a bribe for this interview. He eats as we talk. His hair, once shaved completely bald on account of lice, now hangs long and luxurious around his shoulders. His hair is naturally black.

The man wears jeans and a gray t-shirt that says Rosedale Manors on the breast, company issued to replace his tattered prison clothes.

RDS: I brought you here because you have a special relationship with the alien queen.

GOLIC: (Licking his fingers) I claim no special relationship, any more than any man can claim a special relationship with Christ.

RDS: I saw the iconography on your wall. Quite impressive.

The walls of Walter Golic's cell are covered in graffiti, chalk drawings of Subject 94202227 and her kin, carefully arranged around the perimeter like stations of the cross. I and my coworkers have found the quasi-religious quality of the renderings deeply disturbing on a level with John Wayne Gacy, but due to the special circumstances, no one has yet been allowed to remove them from the walls.

GOLIC: You like them? I could do a pen and ink for you if you'd like. I'll have you know, I got very high honors in art when I was at school.

RDS: Thanks, but...I'm not allowed to keep correspondences, or _similar things_ from program participants.

It was a lie, for the sake of politeness. I just didn't want his creepy pictures. Also, I used the term `program participant' instead of prisoner, to keep things friendly. As the old adage goes, you get more flies with honey than with vinegar.

GOLIC: (Sighs) A shame. You could use her likeness as an icon of protection. (Eats chicken)

The man eats like he's been starving for a month. Allegedly he saw a vision saying he should fast for the `Great feast to come', so he did.

In our defense, we _did_ set trays of food in his cell for three days in a row, but I guess the meatloaf, pizza and hamburger were not his thing.

I actually keep a collection of work by Newt _and_ Ernie. Watercolors, chalk and other media.

My wife won't go to bed without the quilt Ernie sewed. When I told her an alien made it, she didn't believe me. She tells everyone it was the Mennonites. "It's so soft," she would say, or, "You went to Amish town, didn't you?"

But Walter Golic's art...it's like an unfunny joke, like someone made a series of child's drawings of Freddy Crueger as Jesus. Too disturbingly heartfelt and horror movie-ish for even an atheist to find mirth producing.

RDS: Yeah. It's really too bad. (I changed the subject quickly). Now, I understand you were friends, at least somewhat, with the queen. You've apparently spoken.

GOLIC: (Eyes widening as his mania comes to the fore) She revealed to me the secrets of her divine nature! How she debased herself to take on mortal flesh, of need of food and egg laying and excretion, to make herself a perfect intercessor for the Almighty.

RDS: Are you certain about that? I've heard rumors that the queen is decidedly Judeo-Christian. I saw her reading a bible. NIV translation.

GOLIC: The Hebrews had only the Tanakh before the Christ came. But now is the time for a new revelation. Before he left this earth, Christ promised to send a _messenger_ , a great witnessing spirit, to reveal the greater truths of his kingdom, and our mission in this world. A messenger that brings power from above. _Shasharmazorb is that messenger._

RDS: My apologies, but this sounds suspiciously similar to arguments Moslems make about Mohammed.

GOLIC: They were misinformed. The messenger from Christ is not a man. It is a Ss'sik'chtokiwij.

Subject 94202227 was not something I would ever want in a god, but I was not here to debate religion or change his beliefs, so I let it pass.

RDS: _The queen_ , does she ever talk to you?

GOLIC: (Nods vigorously) On Fiorina 161, we spoke several times. And now, even now we speak. (Taps his forehead) Her voice enters my head unbidden. She knows me completely, my sitting up and my laying down. She perceives my thoughts from afar.

I suspected he had done a hatchet job to a few bible passages, but I had not looked at a bible for quite some time, so I wasn't sure.

GOLIC: (Singing to the tune of _In The Garden_ ) And she walks with me, and she talks with me, she tells me I am her own...

RDS: (Sighing impatiently) And it doesn't bother you that she lays eggs containing dangerous parasites, or occasionally eats a human being?

GOLIC: (Quoting Luke 13- I looked it up) ` _Do you think that these Galileans, whose blood Pilate mixed with their sacrifices, were worse sinners than all the other Galileans because they suffered this way? I tell you, no! But unless you repent, you too will all perish._ '

It is a fearful thing to stand in God's judgment, but she has told me not to be afraid.

(Rubs stomach contentedly) I _so_ missed the Colonel. You know they had locations in the UK... _I used to take special trips.._.

We got our genuine KFC frozen from Banquet. A `TV dinner', technically. If we wanted, we could have gotten the officially licensed Colonel's box meal with the coleslaw and biscuit on a plastic tray, but the bucket worked better for us. The meal boxes were ordered from their HQ. _We even have the uniforms_.

I refrained from telling Golic this. Knowing the meal had been in cold storage for a month would make him feel less special.

RDS: Mr. Golic, we are trying to persuade the queen to help us on a _little project_ , and we'd like to get your help. We're hoping that your unique _connection_ will make her more receptive to our request. May we rely upon your help in this important matter?

GOLIC: (Brimming with fanatical zeal) Bless you! Bless you, and the breasts that gave you suck! Blessed are you, O...(reads my ID badge)... _Robert, son of South_ , for in giving this spiritual cup of water to Shasharmazorb's disciple, you earn for yourself great treasure in heaven! Bless you, O bless you!

RDS: I'll take that as a yes.

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611602

(Elle's Journal - Cont'd)

* * *

I had the dream again. The one where I'm on a train track, and this giant train made out of bone and metal, with a massive mechanical skull for a locomotive, comes charging at me and I'm powerless to get out of the way.

When I snapped awake, drenched in sweat, I felt like the train had already hit me.

My body ached all over, and I lay in a mound of goose poop and smashed beer bottles. The turds looked like bent cigarettes and green chalk. I probably had several in my hair.

Whatever they were hiding behind that fence, I doubted it was in the direction I just went. The secrets, doubtless, were located off to the east somewhere.

It appeared I had only encountered a male goose guarding its female's nest.

This was my first encounter with my winged nemesis Fred and Ethel.

I kept seeing flashes of its black and white head, a pink tongue flashing in its harmless toothless maw. The beak, rounded and blunt tipped, pecking at me.

The bird had no real strength. I could have easily twisted its neck like that Persian or that rat, but it had surprised me.

When I reached up to touch my scalp, I found my hair sticky with blood.

At my feet, I could see a small leather jacket. I'm not sure where it came from, but it seemed to be my size. I tried to sit up and grab it, but when I tried, searing pain shot through my body.

I was going to die.

No, not die. I was certain _someone_ would come along and take me to a hospital...

To take me to that place Mr. Bishop spoke about.

Spinal injury or no, I _had_ to get up. I _had_ to keep moving.

Deciding to forego the straightforward situp routine, I rolled over on my side, doing a pushup to get myself into a sitting position. I had goose shit, cigarette butts and glass all over my hands and arms, but it couldn't be helped. I staggered into a standing position.

No hospital. I needed to know what lay beyond that fence, even if it killed me.

I picked up the jacket, turning it over in the dim light.

PROPERTY OF ELLEN RUPERT.

IF FOUND, PLEASE RETURN TO:

XXXXX AVE

Probably another dead girl, I thought. Or maybe the same one with an alias?

It was cold, so I pulled the jacket on. A perfect fit.

I stuck my hands in the pockets, and was surprised to actually find things in them.

A set of metal jacks, the points shaved down so sharp that I nearly impaled myself. No rubber ball.

A pager. Who uses those anymore?

A pocket New Testament with several of the words underlined in a seemingly unconnected fashion, as if part of a code.

A thumb drive, this one a mere stub, like what people used for wireless mouse controllers.

The inside chest pocket had a few more mysterious items:

A risque Hustler magazine photo air freshener with a key jammed inside of it, its scent long gone. The woman in the picture was spray tanned and had legs as muscular as a male body builder...I asked myself, would my chest eventually look like that?

Other items: A set of keys, for a vehicle, a locker somewhere, and maybe a building.

A picture employee badge, so faded by the sun that I could hardly tell what the face looked like. Jim, it said.

And a chess piece (one of the corner castles).

If nothing else, my new finds served to replace the badge that had disappeared from my pockets, and maybe some of the stuff from the doll.

I shook my head, attempting to dislodge the dirt and poop and bits of grass. I raked my hands through my hair. The poop was a lost cause, unremovable without a good shower, but I managed to get rid of the dry pieces.

Jolts of pain shot through my flex points. My back and neck felt like they were on fire. Too much spinal movement.

Still, I felt I could push through it.

I was securing my hands on the rock face, planting my foot on the first step when I heard footsteps.

I glanced back and nearly fainted.

A small girl. My age. Brown skin, Afro hair. Smart pink jogging suit, wrapped in a small thin sweater jacket.

"Kamara?"

"Hi, `El," she said.

It was dark, even under the halogen flood lamps. I thought I was seeing a ghost. "But I saw you die!"

"You weren't watching very carefully. Tom spared me because I still had a part in his plan."

"And what's that?" I asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know yet."

I hugged her. "Still, I'm glad you're still alive."

She reacted rather stiffly, so I let go.

"What are you doing out here?" I asked.

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

I told her about the map and everything.

Kamara shook her head disapprovingly. "There's nothing up there that you want to see. Take my advice. _Go home. Get yourself checked into a hospital."_

"No way," I said. "I've been through too much to turn back now. I stole a car and ran away from a cop."

I decided not to tell her about stabbing Tom Bishop.

She turned on one of those powerful mini LED flashlights, examining me.

"You're bleeding. Your hair is a mess. What have you been doing?"

"Nothing," I said.

She sighed. _"You still haven't told them, have you?"_

She was reopening a private discussion we'd been having off and on for two years. The one I started in the back room of the karate school and, I thought, ended at summer camp this year.

I swallowed. "How can I? That isn't something _anyone_ will understand. And now...with all this..."

Kamara nodded. "I understand."

But then she blurted, "I mean, _you dug up the floor in the basement_. Aren't they in the least bit suspicious?"

I paled, breaking into a cold sweat. "They haven't said anything."

 _"Manslaughter's a serious offense. I know they were burglars, but it doesn't matter."_

The color drained from my face as a familiar stomach sick feeling washed over me.

Sometimes mom and dad got so busy at work that they left me alone in the house the whole day.

Two and a half years ago, both my parents went off to work, and I in the house unsupervised. It was Saturday, so I had no school. I was watching cartoons in the living room when I heard noises coming from upstairs.

When I checked the sliding back door, I found it open.

Putting two and two together, I grabbed an aluminum baseball bat, creeping up the staircase to investigate.

I saw a big bald white man in dark clothing in mom's bedroom, rifling through her drawers, pocketing jewelry. His accomplice, a skinny black guy was with him, played with her underwear in the other dresser.

When the big man noticed me in the narrow stairwell, he rushed after me, fists clenched.

I backed into the living room, where there was more space. I struck him a few times, but he kept coming. The look in his eyes said he intended to kill me, or worse.

I turned the corner, retreating into the garage.

He came down the stairs after me, so I hit him again.

He stumbled, fell.

I backed away from him, but he got up again, trying to take my bat, so I let him have it.

I had only intended to knock him unconscious, but when I swung that bat at his head, and saw all the blood, I understood that I had gone too far. I didn't know my own strength.

The man's accomplice got so scared that he just ran away.

Part of my parents' basement is unfinished. The floor is all dirt. It took me most the day, but I shoveled a grave out of that flooring and covered it up to look like it did before I started digging. I then bleached the garage floor, mopped it.

I washed up real good, scrubbed the bat, placed mom's things carefully back in their drawers, closed and locked the back door.

When I rested a little, mentally establishing my alibi. "I just thought it would be nice to do some mopping around the house," I would tell them. And then I lied.

And lied.

Yes, I who killed a grown man got spooked by a goose.

But I didn't see a goose in there. I saw...

Something else.

Something familiar, yet not.

"What if they decide to refinish the floor, or put in some new plumbing?" Kamara asked me. "What then?"

"Shut up," I cried. "Please. Don't you think I already know that? I can barely sleep as it is."

"I'm sorry." She looked up at the fence. The red blinking lights flashed their warning. "What's the plan, then?"

"I need to climb back up there," I said. "Find a way around that fence. I think there's a way in, if I can get past those geese."

She laughed. "You mean Fred and Ethel's nest? I...don't think there's a way up through there."

"Fred and Ethel?" I said, puzzled.

Kamara shrugged. "That's what people around here call them. Ethel is female, and she has a bracelet. Fred is her man. I like to come down to the park to see them."

I rolled my eyes. "How can we get across this fence?"

She climbed up on a rock. "I think I know a way."

We talked as we climbed.

With the aid of the park's halogen lamps, and the occasional use of Kamara's flashlight, we scaled the rocks with relative ease. I didn't even need those half the time, because I seemed to instinctively sense where to find the next rock.

My body ached with every motion, but I ignored it. "At summer camp," I said to my friend. "I dreamed we were canoing and a pool of blood kept following my boat. I slept with my eyes open for the rest of the night."

Kamara only sighed.

We reached the top rock shelf, catching our breath as we stared at the fence.

The red perimeter lights flashed on and off above our heads, giving our faces and the surrounding rocks a demonic glow.

 _"How do you then_?" Kamara asked. "Sleep, I mean?"

I told her the honest truth. "I...you'll think this is silly, but I dreamed of Ernie from Sesame Street. He told me to come to him, and I'd be made whole."

My friend stared at me in horror. "You _made_ a religion out of _Sesame Street?_ What is wrong with you?"

"Hey. I can _sleep_ , okay?" I cried indignantly. "Maybe someday I'll...find the _producers_ or _the set_ or something, and they'll...help me for real."

She looked at me like I was crazy.

...Maybe I was.

"What _you need_ is to _tell your parents._ "

"You want me to do that _now_? After all I've learned? About this place? And how everything around me is a lie?"

"Maybe? I'm just saying it would make you feel better."

"From jail."

Kamara shook her head. "C'mon."

She led me onto a rock shelf to the left. We moved from there to a pair of large boulders.

A narrow cliff followed this, then another boulder.

Kamara dropped through a narrow crevice, skipping down a narrow staircase formed from shelves of rock that cut beneath a small section of the electrified fence, large enough for a little girl to fit inside, but not a full grown adult.

I climbed in after her.

"The people who built this place didn't account for weathering, and the imperfections in certain types of rock," Kamara said. "This part must have filled in with water a few years ago and broke off. Maybe it was made of limestone, or sandstone."

She shined the flashlight up ahead, and I could see bushes, weeds and a thick copse of trees. "Bet they didn't even see it with all that in the way."

An owl hooted at us from the dark.

Kamara spun around, nervously facing the other direction. "We really shouldn't be out here. It's dark. We won't even know where we're going."

"I'm not going back," I said.

"We should at least camp out, then. Until it gets light."

"What if that's what these people want?" I said. "Good visibility works both ways."

"So you want to wander around blindly in the dark."

"We're not sleeping out here, Kam! We don't even have a tent!"

"Look. It doesn't matter. You're going to need sleep eventually, even if it's on the hard ground."

Feeling fatigued and weary from my adventures and my fall, I agreed. "But not next to the fence. We'd be too easy to spot."

"How about the place where we came in? I mean, if they didn't notice it enough to fill it in..."

"We're too close to the light," I said. " _And if they have dogs.._."

"They can let dogs loose in the _woods_ ," Kamara pointed out.

"Still, I'd feel safer."

She shrugged. "Fine. I guess it would be a little nicer under a tree if it rains."

And so we wandered around in the woods for awhile, looking for a nice tree to shelter us.

As fatigue hit us, we curled on top of an anthill by mistake, and I had to cover Kamara's mouth as she screamed about the ants crawling into her clothes.

We stumbled ahead blindly, shaking ants off our bodies. We had a flashlight, so we didn't trip often, but all the trees looked alike, so we couldn't _not_ get lost.

We got hissed at by a raccoon, Kamara stumbled into a leaf covered hole, twisting her ankle, and I had to cover her mouth when we uncovered a human skeleton, but we managed to find a relatively bug free clearing and lay down, huddling together for warmth.

I dreamed about the train again. I was on the tracks, trying to run, the train near soundlessly clicking across the tracks as it came for me.

The front grill, shaped like a skeletal jaw and teeth, rammed into me, and my body rocked back and forth.

"Wake up," Kamara hissed.

She'd been shaking me for a few minutes. The sun now shined brightly over head.

My back felt like it was on fire, the pain excruciating. I could hardly straighten my spine.

"I heard Jeeps," she urged. "And _dogs_. They sounded close."

With a nod, I marched off in a random direction.

"How's your ankle?" I asked.

"It's fine," she said, but I could see her limping. "Your hair is really gross. And it's bloody."

"I fell off the cliff, so, yeah." I kept going, with her hobbling behind.

"What are we going to do about breakfast?"

"I don't know," I said. "Let's see if there's any buildings around. Maybe someone has a kitchen."

I yanked a squirrel off a tree and tore into it, only remembering my companion after I'd finished its hindquarters.

Kamara looked at me like I'd grown another head. "Oh my God! You just ate a wild animal... _raw!_ "

Too tired to comprehend the situation properly, I offered her the rest of the animal like one would offer a friend half of a candy bar.

She blanched. "N-no thanks. I'm good." And then, under her breath, "My God, she's crazy!"

We crossed a mound of rocks, Kamara gawking at me as I chewed the meat off the little bones. "You are going to get _so sick."_

"I ate a sewer rat and someone's cat," I said. "I feel fine. It's more protein than grubs...How do you feel about eating grubs?"

"Yuck," she said. "I'll wait. It would probably help me to lose a little weight anyway."

"Is that what they tell you at school?" I asked.

Kamara nodded.

 _"Well they're wrong._ And if a guy can't see that you're cute the way you are, then he doesn't deserve to have anyone."

"Thanks." She reached for my hand, I guess to hold it, but I still had squirrel blood on it, so she quickly pulled away. "Thank you."

The trees thinned abruptly, and we were at a ridge overlooking a shiny glass and steel building, a brilliant blue-gray mirror of the sky and clouds around it. A small flotilla of ducks and geese paddled around its sparkling lake, a fountain in the center gushing clear water that made my mouth water.

Hearing the stomp of boots and shouting, I hid behind a pin oak, peering through a bush to observe.

Below us, a company of girls in military fatigues marched by in formation, shouting cadences.

The girls looked identical in every respect, same figure, same race, same short cropped blonde hair.

The more I stared at them, the more they looked familiar.

They weren't just made to look the same.

They _were_ the same.

And worse than that, _they were me_.

 _All of them._

Hyperventilating out of fright, I cowered at the foot of the tree and burst into tears.

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611606

* * *

Damballah Project

Weyland-Yutani Ind.

Rosedale Manors Facility

Subject 945464286: David Barnes

This interview takes place in the same room as the previous. The current subject is willing to discuss anything, and answer any question without bribery, but frequently drops hints that he wishes to share a cell with Sharad (ID 3150408904), his adopted daughter, his wife ("Pillow" ID 9585239), their baby Nathan (Property 0106310229 - different male contributor, genotype only matches the mother) and/or warm their egg (Property 0106310329).

He does not mention Sarah (Subject 7164) currently in early stage pregnancy.

The young man looks rather nonthreatening, and probably doesn't need handcuffs, but it's an understandable precautionary measure, for safety.

When he arrived, he was relatively clean cut, with a shaven head, but now he has a beard, his long brown hair grown to shoulder length.

Barnes is dressed in rather unusual attire from his spacecraft, a flat chested sort of dress called a "Wighesh." The outfit is brown and white, patterned like a spotted owl with a ruffled skirt.

He slouches in his chair, his despondent expression like a prisoner on death row with no expectation of release.

Perhaps this is not entirely unjustified. As long as he holds on to his extraterrestrial companions, the possibility of release remains slight.

RDS: (Points to his outfit) Are you comfortable in that?

BARNES: I wouldn't have requested it if I wasn't.

RDS: What made you decide to wear it?

BARNES: I did. My wife likes the pinks and purples, but I always liked this one better. It was a little awkward the first time I wore them, you know, _sitting down_ and everything, but I got used to it. They had to custom make them for me so there wasn't a hole over my butt. (Noticing my puzzled look) _You know, for tails?_

RDS: How did you first get acquainted with extraterrestrials?

BARNES: There was a guy that used to go to my church. Matt Gannon. I think he must have left a message for my pastor, because when I asked him about mission work, he directed me to this abandoned farm property where an alien spaceship was hiding.

RDS: This Matt Gannon. Is he human?

BARNES: He was. Kinda not anymore.

RDS: What do you mean?

BARNES: Something... _happened to him_. He looks more like Pillow now. I don't know how or why it happened.

RDS: How did _he_ get involved with extraterrestrials?

BARNES: It's a long story. The guy's written a _book_ about it. It might be in the ship database somewhere.

His spaceship wrecked into the prison at Fiorina 161. Agents are still disassembling and shipping parts of the wreckage to earth for further study.

RDS: Unfortunately, I don't have access to that book. Could I get the abridged version?

BARNES: (Sighs) The alien...The Abreya princess...She was hiding out on earth, disguised. She went to school with him. She started asking him religious questions, and he didn't know she was an alien until he converted her. When he found out the truth, she kinda twisted his arm and made him go to her planet, Pathilon, to talk with religious experts, you know, to see if Jesus died to save aliens. The answer they got was yes, Jesus is Lord of all. That's why I got roped into missionary duty.

RDS: How long have you been a... _space missionary_?

BARNES: It's been a few years. There's been some tragedies, some horrible things, but mostly I've loved every minute of it. It's how I met my beautiful wife.

RDS: I admit, she _is_ rather cute.

BARNES: Whatever you're thinking, mister, she's mine, so you can just forget it.

RDS: Relax. She's really _not my cup of tea_.

BARNES: I hope not! Otherwise, we're going to have a _fight_ on our hands! (Laughs)

RDS: While we're on the subject...

We found an apparatus on the craft, a strange bifurcated rubbery object with a long middle piece, roughly five inches in length, which branched out into two shorter pieces, with a resemblance to dolphin and wolf genitalia.

This object I unceremoniously dropped on the table.

BARNES: Oh God. Where did you find that?

RDS: It was on your ship. Care to explain?

BARNES: Not really, _but in the interest of cooperation_ , it's a... _marital aid_.

RDS: To help you and Pillow reproduce.

BARNES: (Embarrassed) Yes.

I could tell he wanted to have the item, but also realized he could do nothing useful with it, alone in his cell.

RDS: How does it work?

BARNES: Seriously?

I just looked at him expectantly.

BARNES: You have _got_ to be joking!

I just sat back in my chair, rubbing my eyes.

BARNES: _Good Lord!_ Just...get one of those cheap kid's squirt guns and shoot it up the middle sleeve. You'll figure it out.

RDS: I'm guessing this somehow distributes, possibly accelerates your seminal fluid for absorption in your wife's reproductive system.

BARNES: Can you undo these handcuffs, please? I want to go into a corner and cry!

RDS: I'm sorry. Your DNA has successfully combined with extraterrestrial chromosomes to create a hybrid embryo. It's difficult for us not to ask questions. Who made this for you?

BARNES: There's a medical company on Pathilon. Hiraxdi Beuqiwa. We, uh, had a very embarrassing talk. (Sighs) What else do you want to know? Our favorite positions?

RDS: Er, _that won't be necessary_. Congratulations, by the way.

BARNES: What? Oh. Thanks. (Sigh)

RDS: I heard about the affair. I don't envy you. Regrettably, we are not permitted to move you from your assigned cells.

BARNES: It's okay. We made peace.

RDS: Where is Pathilon?

BARNES: Uh, it's in the Kaybok system. I don't know, it's far away. Don't ask me to pinpoint it on a star chart, it's not visible from earth. I really couldn't tell you without the ship's computer.

RDS: We've tested your daughter's DNA...

BARNES: So did I. That egg is mine. Mine and Pillow's.

RDS: I was referring to (Reads paper) _Oxana_. The chromosomes don't match. Adopted?

BARNES: (Sarcastic) _How very astute._ Where is she?

RDS: She's safe. And alive.

BARNES: My friend and his wife died on Fiorina 161. I promised him I'd look after her. (Shakes head) That poor little girl. First her parents get killed, now she's forced to live in isolation somewhere without family or friends to comfort her.

RDS: There _have_ been talks of bringing her _playmates_...

BARNES: I suppose it wouldn't be any worse than a public school...her parents were faithful people. I hope nothing you do makes her forget that.

I'm just a paper pusher, but it wouldn't further the discussion any to argue this point.

BARNES: You know, that baby is going to come out undeveloped if you don't occasionally let us warm the egg.

RDS: It's under an incubator.

BARNES: _I know_. There are _studies_ that report stunted development in infants raised solely under an incubator. If you guys want this baby to be a healthy government guinea pig, you've _got_ to give us this concession.

RDS: I'm not familiar with the studies you describe.

BARNES: (Laughs) _Obviously._ Siwolze and Fogekax. They're Abreya scientists. There's also Huxabo and Ujibpa, and a bunch of others. It's too bad you can't read them. They're very well researched scholarly articles. A couple hours a day, that's all I ask.

RDS: I'm afraid that's not possible.

BARNES: I seriously doubt the guys in charge would want their hybrid alien to be born anemic and weak. Ask your people.

RDS: I can't promise anything, but I'll forward the message along.

BARNES: (Stares silently at the mirror) I hear they're going to move us. Because we talk and pray and sing in Wava.

RDS: That's news to me, but, admittedly, one tends to feel threatened if things are being spoken that can't be understood. This was not my doing.

BARNES: They liked it much better when Pillow and I were fighting and not talking to each other on account of Sarah's baby.

RDS: How did you eventually resolve that conflict, by the way?

BARNES: A lot of forgiving. A lot of prayer, between the three of us. We all had to eat humble pie...

I don't know why you don't let Sarah nurse Nathan once and awhile. You used her as a baby farm, so she already lactates. Pillow and I both agree that it has a certain circularity to it, a fitting punishment, symbolically, for our infidelity, mine and hers.

On planet LV 426, `Sarah' (Subject 7164) was part of a breeding program, for the

PARAGRAPH REDACTED

RDS: Wouldn't it be best for the baby to have Abreya milk?

BARNES: Nathan's a little older now. I think we can just about bottle feed him.

RDS: As much as I'd like to help with that, I think we should stick with your first request. It seems more pressing...

BARNES: So I can only choose one?

RDS: My apologies, but requests have to pass through a lot of channels. It's best to keep them simple.

BARNES: Whenever you get done with that, I also want to send a message to Oxana. I want to tell her I love her, and to stand strong for the faith.

RDS: That's actually an easier request to grant, provided you allow us to review it first.

BARNES: I have nothing to hide...Why am I really in here? I know it's not just to shoot the breeze and talk about my sexual appliance...

RDS: We would like for you to speak to the queen.

BARNES: (Shrugs) I've actually been _wondering_ how old granny Shasharmazorb was doing...You trying to get her to pump out eggs or something?

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611602

(Elle's Journal - Cont'd)

* * *

I was raised to think I was a unique person.

Something special.

One of a kind.

When I saw the girl in the car accident, it dawned on me that maybe I wasn't a beautiful little snowflake.

I had hoped that she was the only one. That maybe I had a single identical twin, and mother just hadn't told me about it, but no.

I was not an original.

I was only a copy of a copy of a copy.

Nothing I said or did would ever matter.

I could be replaced.

"Ellie!" Kamara hissed. "Are you all right?"

I took several deep breaths, but it only made me cry more.

My life was a meaningless lie. Whenever I even attempted to explain this in words, I wept.

"I...I...I'm okay," I cried. "I'm okay."

When the company of Me Soldiers had safely passed, Kamara rushed to my side, clutching my dirty hand. "Calm down. You're breathing too fast. Slow it down."

I tried, but I kept sobbing.

"Calm...down."

I didn't.

"What's on your underwear today?" she said. "The Smurfs? Mickey Mouse?"

I laughed. "Scooby Doo."

A helicopter thundered over our heads. Kamara cast a nervous glance behind us. "We should go someplace with more cover."

I got control of my breath, sneaking around the foliage.

"You seen enough yet?" Kamara asked.

I shook my head. "I don't even know what I'm looking at yet."

Since the troop of girls had gone somewhere off to the left, I decided to go the opposite direction, out of fear. We climbed down a rock shelf shrouded in trees, moving through the vegetation, peeking through the clumps of green.

A few yards down, I inadvertently stumbled across an obstacle course, other Me's scaling walls, crawling under razor wire, jogging through rows of tires. I ducked behind a tree.

"I smell food," I heard Kamara saying beside me.

"There's probably a mess hall nearby," I said, glancing at the barracks. "Anyways, it's too dangerous."

The trees thinned out. I would have no cover.

"I guess you're right," she sighed. "But it's _awfully tempting._ "

I nodded back the way we came. "C'mon. Those girls can't see us if we lay low."

We reversed our direction, keeping close to the ground.

"I'd cook you a squirrel," I said. "But I'm afraid they'd see the smoke."

"That's okay," Kamara said. "Maybe I can find some nuts or something. Or maybe eat grubs, if I'm hungry enough." I noticed her shuddering at that last thought.

Another helicopter flew overhead, but we stayed low. Soon we were behind the glass office building, hiding behind bushes as the troop of Me Soldiers jogged by, yelling more cadences:

"Hey yo Captain Jack,

Take me down the railroad track,

Put that rifle in my hand,

I want to be your shootin' man,

Your left, your left, your left right left..."

We crawled past them quickly.

Unobserved, we continued on through the woods.

Past the shiny building and fountain there stood a small castle, one too clean, functional and angular to be anything but industrially produced. Its ramparts had a roof with an aluminum covering, its towers looking more like those of a prison than old fashioned Gothic spires. Even the keep resembled an air traffic control station.

"What is _that_?" I asked Kamara.

"How should I know?" she hissed, her face red with anger. "I'm just as clueless as you are!"

"Sheesh, I was only asking for an educated guess!"

She still looked angry. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"What's your problem? I was just asking if you learned anything at school or something that might be able to tell me anything."

"No," she snapped. "I've never seen anything like this in my life!"

Her tone of voice seemed to contradict her words.

"I don't get it," I said. "I'm asking you perfectly normal questions and you're getting all upset over nothing!"

Kamara winced. "Sorry. I just...I get this way when I'm hungry."

She frowned at the building. "It's obviously not a real castle, and it's not the Magic Kingdom. Maybe an army base or something?"

"This whole place is an army base," I said.

"All the more reason why we should leave."

I rolled my eyes. "You _know_ I can't do that!"

I crept in closer to the castle. The treeline continued in that direction, so I still had cover.

Now at the edge of the lake, I could finally get a good look at the strange environment I had trespassed upon.

An idyllic sort of corporate park. In addition to the castle and the office building, I could see, to the south, a sort of hospital, a rounded rectangle of a building with dark glass windows sandwiched between layers of brown concrete and steel, and to the east, another hospital, this one with a pair of smokestacks billowing gray into the sky above our heads. There were houses, trees, and an empty field.

The lake widened out in front of the castle, and I could see green little islands and bridges and stone paths across the water.

Not a soul in sight.

Here and there, I could see little gardens with fake classical Greek statues and marble benches.

When I passed by one of the benches, I could see the word `ROOK' drawn in the dirt near my hiding spot.

I would have moved on from there, had I not noticed a familiar glint of neon orange on the bench.

I crept closer to investigate.

The garden was in sort of a clearing. Not much cover.

"Where are you going?" Kamara asked, panic edging into her voice.

"I saw something," I said. "I just want to get a better look."

She looked that way and saw the garden. "Don't do it!" she hissed.

I shook my head. "I have to."

She looked again. " _Please_ tell me you're not risking your neck for a damn Sesame Street doll!"

"I don't expect you to understand. Don't worry. I'll make it quick."

" _So will they_ ," she said darkly.

Ignoring her, I ran to the bench.

It was a little flower garden, with a statue of Artemis, goddess of the hunt, framed by shrubbery and dwarf trees.

The bench had the vague shape of a Chinese paifang, but made of gray marble.

The Ernie doll lay flat on the cold surface, with its striped shirt and crazy hair.

How foolish I was, thinking this could heal me.

Still, it was a _sign_. I was a vision of this character, and it gave me the strength to continue on, despite my heavy burden of guilt.

In my dreams, he said to find him, and find him I did.

I sat down on the bench, turning the doll over. Kamara hissed at me warningly, but I ignored her. This was too important.

"What now?" I whispered to it. "You told me to find you, and now I'm here. What do I do? Please help me."

Could it all have been a trap? Even the vision? The thought caused me to jump to my feet and look around.

I squeezed the doll, to see if it held recording devices.

Something crinkled.

The stitchwork wasn't as obvious as the Raggedy Ann doll. At first glance, I couldn't even tell that someone had modified the doll at all, but then I found something a little off about the stitches, and when I tugged, a needle came out.

Desperate for answers, I ripped open the seam and found a little card hidden inside.

The card bore one single phrase:

YOU ARE LOVED.

I wept as I read and reread the card.

Before, I had cried out of fear, but now I shed tears of joy.

I didn't notice I had company until I felt the tranquilizer dart bury itself into my neck.

I awoke in a hotel room, wrapped in blankets and a comforter. No explanation of where I was or how I got there.

The walls were beige, with green arabesque borders. Green carpeting. I saw a black bubble on the ceiling, which appeared to be a camera. My bed had a nightstand on one side.

I had been bathed and dressed in clean clothing. Even had my leg had been rebandaged. My jacket hung from a wooden chair. Upon checking the pockets, I found nothing missing except the set of keys.

Was I dreaming this whole time? Was the other Me's, the shooting, and the sneaking past the fence all imaginary?

If so, why was I in a hotel room? And why did I have a bandage over my leg? And what was the story with the jacket?

Did I also dream my parents?

I had to get out, look around.

I threw back my covers and got up, rushing to the door.

It was locked from the outside. It had a keyhole, but I didn't see any key around.

It then became apparent that I wasn't on vacation with family. I was a prisoner.

I pulled up the Venetian blinds and tried the window, but it didn't open.

I checked the dresser. Its drawers were full of clothing my size, but no keys.

The nightstand contained nothing but a bible. I read the first page, but immediately got bored and put it back.

I picked up the chair, throwing it at the window as hard as I could, but it only resulted in the chair breaking.

I sat down on the bed and cried.

I wiped my eyes, taking out the bible again.

I idly flipped through the pages, wondering what kind of Gideon society would place bibles in a prison nightstand. The onionskin pages were too thin to make a paper airplane, or I would have done it.

As I thumbed through the book of Psalms, a key fell to the floor.

I tried it in the lock, and it actually fit. I opened the door, getting my first good look outside.

An upper hallway in a western hotel. More beige and art deco and smooth as butter green carpeting. Art deco wall sconces. Rows of doors and a hallway leading to an indoor balcony.

I noticed a door opening on a diagonal from me, and Kamara's brown face peering out.

"I warned you, but you didn't listen. I hope you and your stupid doll are happy!"

I frowned. My captors hadn't let me keep the thing. I found myself silently weeping for its loss.

A second later, I saw Josh stepping out of the room directly across from me, followed by Lacy at the other end of the hall, and a group of strangers, including a man clad in a dress with a spotted owl print.

"Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?" Josh asked.

I shook my head. "I was about to ask you the same thing."


	5. Chapter 5: Loaded Plate

I thought I was seeing ghosts. Three dead friends, all alive and breathing in this strange hotel hallway.

Did I die?

Was this some sort of bizarre purgatory or hell? A prison for my soul, to punish me eternally for that burglar's death?

"I saw you die," I said to Josh. "You and Lacy. The man _shot_ you."

Josh had a black eye and a puffy lip. He had staged his fight with Kamara well. "It was...kinda like paintball. They even had tranquilizer darts in them, so it sort of looked like we were dead."

"They made me wear a blood pack," Kamara said. "I think a couple other kids wore them too."

I silently wished the burglar's death had been faked like this, but I buried the man under a pile of dirt, so I knew that couldn't be the case.

I gave Josh a hug. "Anyway, I'm glad to see you're all right."

He sighed and nodded. "Same here."

"Do you know where we are?" I asked.

"No clue. They shot me, and then I was in the hotel room."

The strange brunette guy in the owl dress approached me. "Hi. My name's David. What's your name?"

Thinking him to be a person with information, I told him. "Where are we?"

David only shrugged. "I was in my cell, and they gave me pizza for lunch. I knew something was wrong with it when I started getting really groggy and dizzy way ahead of lights out."

Did they find the body? I wondered. Is that why I'm here? I swallowed, suddenly feeling anxious. "You were in a prison?"

He nodded. "I was in _two_ prisons. The first was a mission trip to a prison colony. I was _free_ that time. Then we met this guy named Weyland, and he stuck me in a holding cell the moment I came out of cryosleep."

"Are you a criminal?" I asked.

David laughed and shook his head.

"Why are you wearing a dress?" said Josh.

"It's a _men's wighesh_ ," David answered, turning the corner of his skirt. "Got it at Zorarber."

"It's a _dress_ ," Josh said.

David put his hands on his hips, clearly annoyed. " _Hey._ My wife is an _alien_ , and she likes it when I wear them. This is what straight men wear on her planet."

He glanced down the hall and his jaw dropped. "God. _Seriously?_ "

I looked back and saw a blonde woman in a gray jumpsuit talking to Lacy. She was pantomiming something about a baby, and she spoke rather like a deaf person. "Do you recognize someone?"

 _"I wish I didn't."_

Josh stared at the blonde. "Is that your _wife_?...She doesn't look very alien to me!"

David's face flushed red. "She's not my wife. That's my...uh... _mistress._ "

"Is that like a wife?"

David smacked his face. "I had an _affair_ , okay?"

The `mistress' turned to look at him, but David crept back into the doorway to his room, allowing his presence to become obscured by a buzz cut stranger in a punk rock t-shirt and leather pants.

To my left, near the end of the hall, and another (presumably) unbreakable window, stood a man that resembled a soap opera character, with stylishly wavy hair, aquiline nose, designer shirt and slacks, patent leather shoes. If he were on a soap, he'd be married, and arguing with someone about inheritances.

Although as baffled looking as the rest of us, his first communication was, "Does anyone have a _lighter?_ "

"Blessed be Shasharmazorb," said a bony long haired man in a gray shirt and jeans as he stepped out of the room across from him. "Blessed be her eggs. The socmavaj she hatches are blessed socmavaj, their judgment just. The faithful remain within her merciful shadow."

Soap Opera Guy frowned at him. "I'll take that as a `No, I don't have a lighter.'"

"Can I look in your room?" David asked me.

I nodded indifferently.

He went in, and a couple seconds later, I heard him cry, "They put _Carl Sagan_ in my room, but _you_ get a bible!"

I leaned in the doorway. "You can take it if you want. I already have the key."

David sighed. "It's just the _concept_. The _metaphor_. It's like they were trying to tell me an unsubtle message that one of Sagan's atheistic essays was the key to life itself or something."

"What year is it?" I asked.

David gave me a funny look. "It was 2180 the last time I checked. What year did you...think it was?"

"2016."

He chuckled. "It hasn't been 2016 for awhile."

As we spoke, the other strangers had already wandered on to the balcony, milling down the balustraded staircase.

"We should probably follow them," David said. "Maybe we can sneak out before Sarah sees me."

But as we marched ahead that way, he suddenly ducked back in my room, muttering something about using the toilet.

A second later, Sarah approached us.

"Hab you theen Dawib?" She spoke with a lisp because her tongue had a cut running down the middle, like it had been sliced in two by a laser.

I was at a loss for words, uncertain whether to lie for him, or tell the truth.

As I fumbled for words, Josh, with a sly grin on his face, pointed to my room. _"He's in the bathroom."_

Sarah rushed through the doorway.

Thanks, Josh.

The balustrade and stairs were fine polished oak, leading to a hardwood lobby with a bar and a set of leather furniture. Through a set of windows and glass doors, I could see that we were in an old western ghost town, with a red and white gazebo standing in its center. Directly across from us, I could see a toy shop, a post office, and an appliance shop. A row of trees disguised whatever lay beyond there, but I could see smoke rising in columns. The sun hovered at high noon.

Josh gawked at everything, but Lacy looked bored.

Lacy's face was bruised and puffy, but she didn't have a shiner. When she smiled, I could see a gap from a missing tooth.

The man in leather was attacking a door with a stool, but the glass didn't break. The windows did not bow and pop out whole, neither did they seem capable of being forced out of their frames.

He threw the chair down angrily, sitting down on the arm of a barco-lounger to catch his breath.

His earrings glittered in the light, a silver pair of horns poking out the right lobe, a jeweled stud in the left. His arms had something Japanese tattooed on them. His shirt said Mind Melt on it, and it seemed to be an X-ray of a douche bag.

Soap Opera Man, apparently missing the other guy's subtle attempt, marched up to the door, trying the handle.

"It won't open, genius," said the punk rocker. "I even pulled off one of the loose boards on the door frame, you know, to see if we could bust through that somehow. Solid steel."

The crazy long haired man muttered to himself as he drew monsters on the bar table with a felt tipped pen the color of his hair. When I saw what he was making, I shivered and looked away.

There was another bony man, of the same facial cut as this person, skeletal features, eyes like shadowy skull sockets, but his ears were bigger, and he had a nervous, flighty appearance. He didn't talk much, he just stared at me.

"All right Jeff," a scratchy female voice called from behind me. "No more bullshit. Where is my son!"

I spun around and saw a plump thirty year old woman, brown hair tumbling in her slightly masculine face, her curvy figure wrapped in a Def Leppard shirt and grunge jeans.

Soap Guy glanced her way like she had addressed him, but it was the punk that answered.

"Why should _I_ know where the kid is?"

The woman slapped him.

"Bastard! You had him last! It's bad enough that you screwed me with the custody paperwork and got him every Saturday instead of every other Saturday, but did you really have to go to these lengths to take my son away from me?"

" _Your_ son!" Jeff protested.

"You only have partial custody," the woman said. "So you drugged me and took me away to this hotel!"

"Amy, that's bullshit!" the man shouted. "I had nothing to do with this! I was at a party-"

 _"So you were under the influence when you pulled this stunt,"_ she growled. "What drug was it this time? You still doing those bath salts, or did you move on to something harder?"

"Children!" Soap Opera Guy snapped. "I don't think this has anything to do with your little marital spat. We've never met before, and yet I was locked a hotel room against my will, without cable, I might add. Could we please stop fighting for a moment and try to find a way out of this building?"

"There is no way out." Jeff stepped behind the bar and poured himself a shot of whiskey.

Lacy tried a door on the side of the bar, but it wouldn't open. Neither would the one near the lounge area. Even the elevator door beneath the stairs did not appear to have functional buttons.

"Forget it, kid," Jeff said.

Hearing a cough, I turned and saw a tattooed muscular young man. He wore a SWAT team t-shirt and a baggy pair of khaki pants with a water bottle sticking out one pocket in a rather ungainly way.

Grimacing at something in the air, he forcefully cleared his throat and spat on the floor. Nobody scolded him because at this point we didn't care if our prison was defaced.

"Nice," Josh said.

Soap Opera Guy marched up to the stranger, offering his hand. "Lawrence Meyer."

The tattooed man didn't shake it. "Does your bathroom have antibacterial soap?"

Lawrence stared at him. "I...don't think so."

"Anthony." The young man wrinkled his little nose, still refusing to shake hands.

Lawrence put his hand down, gazing at the man's tattoos. "You're a Freemason?"

Anthony nodded. "I achieved Level 71 and became a Grand Master Mason," he said. "I got so well connected with the Knights Templar that I got rich and moved to Hollywood, but then my conscience got the better of me, so I had to leave that world behind."

Lawrence smirked. "You look a little _young_ to be that deep in the Masons."

Anthony took a deep breath. "Are you a Mason?"

 _"My uncle was one,"_ Lawrence said.

"Well then, you really don't know. It will only make sense if you're in the organization."

Lawrence turned away from him. "Does anyone have a lighter?"

"Please don't smoke," Anthony said, his tone of voice indicating that it was an order, not a request.

Lawrence did not reply to this, nonverbally giving him the brush off.

Jeff shrugged. "Someone took mine, or I'd give it to you."

A plump black haired woman occupied one of the leather loveseats, her hair pinned up in a bun. She wore a small purple jacket over a maroon shirt and tight purple leggings, a tiny gold cross providing irony. The face was dimpled, munchkin-like, with jowls.

"I'd like to have a smoke myself," she replied. "I've been meaning to quit, but..."

" _Outside_ , please?" Anthony insisted.

"They don't want us setting the building on fire," I said.

"Who's _they_ , little girl?" Lawrence asked, but I had no answer.

"Dunno. Whoever put us here. I don't have much to go on, but I think the company is called Damballah."

Sarah, who had been listening in, now mumbled several things in a quick succession that bordered on unintelligibility.

"Slow down," Lawrence said. "What are you trying to tell us about?"

But it was no use, she continued mumbling incoherently.

The room erupted in chuckles as our friend with the odd dress entered the room.

"It's a little early for Halloween," Lawrence remarked.

"It's a _wighhesh_ ," David said. "It's _alien_. Look. I can't pretend to know everything about this Damballah organization, but I do know this smacks of them."

"I'll bite," Lawrence said. " _What_ is Damballah?"

"They're a genetics and biological science company. I briefly met the CEO and he put me in this place."

"You mean like _cloning_?" I asked.

"... _Maybe._ I've heard _rumors_. Saw a couple things."

He sighed and pointed to his mistress. "They made her. Well, as much as a human being can create a person. Cloning isn't creating a person from scratch, it's just borrowing God's formula to mix your own."

"Am I... _mixed_?" I asked.

David furrowed his brow. "How the hell should I know? For that matter, how do I know _I'm_ not a clone?"

"You're the only person here wearing a dress," Josh said. "I'm really not sure why anyone would want to clone that."

"Are you sure it wasn't Al Buraq?" Amy asked. "I've heard stories about their secret prison camps in the Islamic states, particularly Maine. They kidnap people and do all kinds of experiments on them. This kind of thing would be right up their alley."

 _"So you believe it's not me,"_ Jeff said.

Amy shook her head. "You're still a butthole, but nobody said you're a genius. _Or a wealthy genius._ _This took some planning._ I'm just waiting for the beheadings."

"Maine is Islamic?" I said. "And they torture people there?"

Jeff laughed. "What, have you been living under a rock, or something? It's been _decades_ since America had fifty states."

"She's probably part of the experiment." Amy cleared her throat. "The New England colonies are ruled by an organization called Al Buraq. We had a little war, now we're at a cease fire."

"And you think they might be behind this...prison?"

She sighed. "I really don't know. But I wouldn't put it past them. They're like Al Qaeda with more resources."

There was so much I didn't know. The idea of this hotel, and the whole city I lived in being mere government experiments situated somewhere on a Jihadist east coast did not seem entirely outside the realm of possibility.

" _I don't know,_ " said the lady with the bun hairdo. "But either way, this is _clearly_ the work of the Antichrist!"

I stared through her thick rimmed rectangular glasses, into her hazel eyes. She had a slight smile on her face, but appeared to be quite serious.

"In the last days," she said, the slight wattle on her neck quivering. "The Antichrist will persecute the faithful, _throwing them into prison_ , eventually putting them to death for their faith. Of course, _those would be people who weren't saved by the rapture_. Oh. I _hope_ the rapture is coming soon!"

"Lady," said Jeff. "Your ship has already sailed. Welcome to hell."

"I think those are both overstatements," David said. "Other than being here against our will, this just looks a lot like one of those `escape' party games that were popular a hundred years ago."

"I agree," Lawrence said. "Hey, maybe we can overturn some furniture and see if there's a riddle printed on the bottom."

Jeff flipped over a wooden coffee table. He found nothing there. "This is stupid."

David idly rang a service bell at the end of the bar. I noticed several eyes rolling.

Click. The door at the side of the bar swung open.

Out stepped a man in dark clothing, with bandages wrapped around his neck.

Tom Bishop.

I gasped in horror.

As the door clicked shut behind him, the man gave us prisoners an ingratiating smile.

 _"Ladies, gentlemen, welcome to Rosedale Manors."_

He's still alive! I thought. I'm not a double murderer!

I could feel the tension in the room increase dramatically.

Everyone rose to their feet, glaring at him.

 _"And where is that, exactly?"_ asked the lady with the bun hairdo. "Maine?"

"I cannot tell you."

"What the hell is the meaning of this?" Jeff demanded.

Others in the room echoed his sentiment, filling the room with noise.

Josh, Kamara and Lacy stared at the newcomer, but none of them said anything.

Looking calm, unsurprised and unhurried, Tom raised his hands in a defensive gesture. He did not speak. He only waited for silence.

When silence came, he spoke. "You doubtless have many questions."

"You're damn right!" Jeff yelled.

"Your answers will come in time, but that time is not yet."

"Why the hell not?" Amy said. "Give us one good reason why we don't just turn you into the police!"

"Your cel phones don't work here," Tom said with a slight smirk. "As for going to the police in person, you are welcome to try."

"He's the CEO," David said. "His name's Mr. Weyland."

"No," I said. "His name is _Tom_. I know because I stabbed him in the neck."

Tom smiled. "You're a very strong girl. Very _resourceful._ "

"He bleeds milk," I said.

" _Coolant_ ," David corrected. "It figures they'd send a synthetic. They're too chickenshit to come down here themselves."

"Synthetic?" I repeated.

"He's a _robot_. We pieced together one of them on LV 426."

"Can you...take him apart and use him to fix our phones?" Amy asked.

David shook his head. "I had smart friends, and a special computer last time. I wouldn't know his circuits from his capacitors."

Tom smiled at this.

"I noticed I have a pack of cigarettes, but no lighter," said the religious lady.

"Yes," said the droid. "We wouldn't want to start a fire."

"It's kind of pointless for us to have them, then."

"Perhaps. It _is_ an unhealthy habit. Of course, there are also several methods you could potentially employ to create a flame, if you're resourceful enough."

The woman frowned. "You mean like rubbing sticks together."

"Exactly."

"I have a _son and daughter_ ," said Amy. "No one's watching them. If I don't go back soon, they'll burn the house down, or something worse!"

Jeff, in contrast, seemed unperturbed, as if he had someone taking care of things for him.

Tom sighed. "How is this different from all those other times you've left them, _to go to work?_ "

Amy paled. "How do you know that!"

Tom didn't reply.

"Perhaps you can explain to us why you're here," Lawrence said. "And, if it's not too much trouble, why _we're_ here."

"I'm here because you rang the bell," Tom said.

"Can you... _unlock the door?_ " said the lady with the glasses.

"Certainly, Ms. Whitmore. By the way, your friend Mr. Barnes is partly correct. You have all been chosen for a special team building exercise, one which will require careful thought, cooperation, and, at times, personal sacrifice. However, please do not make the mistake of thinking this is a game."

He took a set of keys off his belt, unlocking the door. It swung wide open.

Upon seeing freedom, the crazy man happily rushed outside, with the pale skeletal man close at his heels.

"If you're hungry, there's a restaurant outside and to the left," Tom said. "Serving times are nine A.M., two P.M. and five P.M. Today's lunch menu is roast chicken and salad. The time is now eleven thirty. The forecast calls for mild weather today."

" _This is a recording_ ," David mocked with one hand cupped over his mouth. Tom didn't respond.

"I'm allergic to chicken," Anthony said. "It gives me horrible heartburn."

"Then enjoy the salad," Tom said, marching to the door he came from.

"Wait," Anthony blurted. "I didn't see any antibacterial soap in my bathroom."

"Overuse of antibacterial soaps can strengthen certain virulent strains by excessive exposure. The simple act of hand washing itself can be just as effective in preventing infection."

Anthony was unphased by this lecture. "So you're not going to give us any."

"Dude, shut up!" Jeff cried.

Tom gave Anthony a nod. _"I'll look into it."_ And he disappeared behind the door, closing it tight behind him.

The door had no handle. It had seemingly opened on its own, so we had no way to follow him.

Lawrence rang the bell, and Jeff banged on the door, but no one answered.

"Asshole," Jeff said.

"All you need is a piece of glass and some kindling," David said. "If you want something dry to burn, I've got a nice book of dry Atheist essays..."

"Amen to that," Ms. Whitmore said.

Judging by the expression on Jeff's face, he did not agree. "Oh yeah. _That's real nice._ That's just typical of you bible thumpers. _Set fire to anything you don't agree with!_ Now if you set fire to _the bibles_ , I'd have no complaint. But no, it always had to be _anything that you find offensive!_ "

"Well _excuse me_ for not _worshiping a dead scientist as my savior_!" Whitmore shot back.

"My _savior_?" He said with a forced laugh. "Just because I might agree with a guy's opinion, you say that I _worship him_?"

"Whatever your heart clings to and relies upon is your god," Whitmore said.

Jeff sighed. "You know, I never even _thought_ about reading Carl Sagan before, but now that you're raising such a stink about it, and burning things like a Nazi, I _have_ to read it. _Where is_ this magical book?"

"It's in my room," David groaned. " _`Page turner it is not.' I'm glad it'll find a good home._ "

" _Like a Nazi_?" Whitmore said. "Really? _That's an awfully strong insult for someone only intending to burn one book!_ "

Lawrence loudly cleared his throat. "You know what they say about not discussing religion or politics in mixed company?"

Jeff ignored him. "That's always how it starts. With one book. Did you know you can get killed in Islamic countries for possessing a copy of the Koran with slightly different phrasing? If the wording is different, they burn it, along with you. I bet you Christians would do the same thing today, if you could get away with it."

Whitmore threw in another comment, prolonging the argument even further.

To make matters worse, Amy, who had only been sulkily listening all this time, all of a sudden decided to give her two cents, compounding the insult to Ms. Whitmore's religious convictions by arguing that Christians suppressed the Gospel of Thomas and calling her a book burning zealot.

David sighed, shook his head and walked outside, Sarah trailing him.

Kamara and I exchanged knowing looks, deciding it best to follow them.

Our prison stood in the middle of a barren square of dirt. The dry loose topsoil blew around us in clouds whenever the wind picked up.

The buildings around us had painted facades. In addition to the structures I had seen through the windows, there was a sheriff's office, a doctor, and a general store, all apparently abandoned. To the east there stood a bank, a barber shop, a library, and a plain looking building that simply said `restaurant' on the facade. Trees and what appeared to be concrete surrounded the square on all sides.

The square was surrounded by forest. I saw only one way out, and that was down a dirt road on a diagonal between two groups of houses.

A wide road, framed by prefabricated one story buildings, almost like cabins, with no basements.

"I don't think we should be going this way," Kamara warned.

I shook my head and kept going.

I had only gotten about a kilometer down this alley of buildings, trees and concrete walls when I saw turret guns emerging from the soil, unloading a salvo of ammunition in our direction.

I had Kamara's face pressed down in the dirt the second the first weapon flashed. I didn't think about it, I just did it.

We army crawled back from the barrage, and once we had retreated a sufficient distance, the guns stopped, burrowing into the ground like ant lions.

Kamara wiped the dust off her face. "You saved my life!"

"You're my friend," I said.

So much for escape.

"You hungry?" Kamara asked.

I nodded.

When we stepped inside `Restaurant', I expected something with a western motif, something that matched the exterior. Instead, I found one of those `reservation only' type restaurants. Green walls, green carpet, fancily framed mirrors and landscapes on the walls, wine rack, a giant brass sculpture of a Canada goose near the entrance. The ceiling was coffered.

The environment was _very_ cozy. As in _small._ You could either sit at the round table in the center or in one of the two small booths. That's it. `Restaurant' had obviously never been built for commercial use. It didn't even have a cash register, only a check-in desk.

Fourteen chairs stood around the middle table, each with a plastic nametag attached to the back. I walked around the table, checking to see if any had my name on it.

Anthony Garrett. Amy Mcallister. Jeff Maynard. Two long haired men occupied spots labeled `Morse' and `Golic.' Both Sarah and David had chairs marked `Barnes', positioned next to each other, despite what David said about an affair. One seat had no label. At the moment, Jeff occupied it, refusing to take his assigned spot next to Amy.

My chair stood between Anthony and Kamara. I sat behind a green table cloth with silverware wrapped in white linen napkins. Feeling warm, I draped my jacket over my chair.

The food hadn't been set out yet, so everyone just talked.

Ms. Whitmore and Jeff seemed to have reconciled their differences, or at least mutually decided to stop talking to one other, for the religious debate had not continued.

We all had cups of ice water and an ice machine. I drank mine to the very bottom, then got a refill, emptying that one too.

"The nerve of that asshole," I heard Anthony complaining. "` _Enjoy the salad_!' As if I can live on just that! Stupid son of a bitch."

"You'd be surprised how well you can do with just salads," Whitmore said cheerfully. "Why, for one whole year, that's all I ate! And, as you can see..." She gestured suggestively at her body for humorous effect. " _It did wonders for my beautiful figure._ " She chuckled.

Anthony rolled his eyes.

"Sarah," Ms. Whitmore said. "What happened to your tongue?"

The girl answered, "I thud it. I taut Dawib wud lige me bedda."

"It's self inflicted," said David. "She's crazy."

Lawrence leaned over the table. "Mr. Garrett, I...notice you have on a SWAT team shirt..."

"Yeah," Anthony said. "I was on the police force for awhile, but I got tired of all the corruption."

"Did you... _wear rubber gloves the whole time_? _I imagine that could get awkward."_

"I wore leather gloves," Anthony replied quite seriously. "Except at the crime scenes."

"I have a question for you. You seem like an obsessive compulsive, but you have _tattoos_. Care to explain that?"

"I go to very sanitary tattoo parlors," Anthony said. _"They don't smoke, their surfaces are always clean, and they always change and sterilize their needles before tattooing the next customer."_

Jeff laughed. "Shit, that doesn't sound like any fun at all!"

A door at the end of the restaurant came open, and a man and a woman emerged, Indian by the looks of them, clad in the traditional white shirt, black slacks and tie of waiters. The pushed carts up to our table, each laden with covered dishes.

One by one, our servers removed the lids and placed the dishes in front of us. Roasted chicken and salad for each person.

Well, except for Anthony. _He only got chicken_. He asked the woman a question about an alternative food, but she and her companion only responded with a string of Hindi.

Anthony wasn't the only one who got gipped. David's dish contained nothing but a little black box with a wedding ring inside. (Okay, so I guess technically `gipped' is a matter of perspective). "The fuck?"

Sarah also discovered a ring on her own plate, this one a filigreed band with a diamond. The moment she saw it, she slid it on her finger and gave David a kiss.

" _Oh Dawib!_ "

Everyone at the table broke into applause, telling him congratulations.

David pushed her away, getting out of his chair so fast that it fell over.

"You told me you were already married," Josh said. " _To an alien._ "

"I am," David stammered.

Jeff laughed. "You mean like a Russian or something?"

"No," said David. "A space alien."

"You're nuts, man."

Amy grinned at him. "It's okay. If you want to practice bigamy, we won't say anything."

"No," he protested. "This isn't right. There's been some kind of mistake!"

"Damn straight!" Jeff laughed. " _The biggest mistake of your life,_ _and it's yours!_ "

David looked around, but the servers had already gone, leaving no explanation, in any language.

" _He's getting cold feet_ ," Amy muttered conspiratorially to David's assumed fiancee.

"If you needed witnesses," Lawrence said. "You needn't have gone through all the trouble of kidnapping us. All you had to do was send us invites."

Jeff rolled his eyes. "Speak for yourself, man. I wouldn't have come to this gay asshole's wedding if he paid me!"

Amy disagreed. "Yeah? Why not? This guy is obviously loaded, setting up a theme party like this..."

"I never invited anyone!" said David. "I didn't even buy those rings!"

" _Sure you didn't_ ," Amy laughed. "Big Brother always buys cute couples expensive wedding rings and forces them to marry each other. It's _so_ evil."

 _"I love it when disabled people find the love of their life,"_ Whitmore said with a smile. _"It gives me so much hope."_

David reddened in anger. "You're making a big joke out of this, but you're not wrong about Big Brother. Someone's trying to drive a wedge between me and my wife. They said if I could forget Pillow, if I could stay with Sarah, they'd let me go free. Now they're trying to force me with these dirty tricks."

"Your wife's name is Pillow?" Amy said. _"Seriously?"_

"I think he got too used to sleeping alone with _a_ pillow," Jeff scoffed. " _And his hand._ " He smiled at David in a condescending way. "I get it. You're nervous. _It's your first time being together with a woman._ "

Sarah said nothing to the contrary.

David glared.

"C'mon!" Amy said. " _Crossdressing is much more fun with a partner!_ "

"I'm not crossdressing," David growled. "This is a _men's wighesh!"_

"Do you have special names for stockings and heels too?"

Anthony, in the meantime, banged on the rear door the servers had disappeared into, trying to get their attention. Nobody answered.

Like the one in the hotel, it had no handles. They knocked to be let in or out.

"I can't eat chicken!" Anthony yelled. "Every time I eat a chicken, it makes me gag!"

"Then don't eat!" Amy called.

"Do you want me to starve?" He banged on the door again.

No response.

"Then don't eat!" Amy said.

"I'll take yours if you don't want it," Morse offered.

Out of spite, Jeff shouted, "Let's get some _barbecue_ chicken out here next time!"

Ignoring all this commotion, Whitmore returned the conversation to the subject of the rings, "I think this girl will really turn him around. Maybe convince him to stop wearing women's clothing."

"I oodent thang a hing," Sarah said, giving David a warm smile. "I liketh hith dwethes."

"See?" Amy said. "She's crazy about you!"

For some reason, our plates had been built with levers on the bottom. Josh idly clicked his back and forth, causing the tablecloth to bunch up.

"You love each other, don't you?" Whitmore asked.

"Yeth," came the slurry response.

"I love her as a _friend_ ," David muttered. "And a friend _only._ "

"Sometimes those make the best husbands!"

" _Friends with benefits_ ," Amy teased.

David cleared his throat. "She can never replace Pillow Pulsa. Pillow will always have my heart. Whoever sent me these rings can shove them up their ass. _This wedding isn't happening."_

But Sarah only smiled and admired her ring, gazing at David affectionately.

"C'mon, Dave," Jeff said. "Don't you want to be _happy_?"

"That's _not_ going to make me happy!"

 _"Didn't work so well for us,"_ Amy muttered to Jeff.

 _"And that's supposed to be my fault."_

 _"Now, now. Let's not let our bad marriage ruin this brand new one."_

"Right," Jeff said with a smirk. " _That's their job._ "

"I still don't understand why you kidnapped us," Amy said to David. "The man is right. You could have sent _invites_."

Jeff shook his head. "Again, I probably would have _ignored_ an invitation...Though I'm not really sure why you'd pick me. Did you just pull it off a website or something? What's this thing about puzzles, by the way? Some kind of wedding party game?"

"Dammit!" David said. _"This wasn't my idea!"_

"Then whose was it?"

"You think I'd be sitting here if I knew?"

Throughout all this argument, Josh had been clicking the lever on his plate. David glared at him coldly.

The boy put his hands to his side, looking flustered.

"You _slept_ with her," said Amy. " _Didn't you, Dave?_... _I'm getting that vibe._ "

David reddened. " _I had an affair._ "

 _"You cheated on your pillow,"_ Jeff said. _"I think it'll live."_

Lawrence sliced a piece off his chicken with a knife, poked a forkful into his mouth. "If your pillow's getting jealous, you can always go out and buy a new one. _Or have one of mine._ "

"Why don't you all shut the hell up!" David shouted. Someone muttered he wasn't being very Christian, but he ignored it. "I sinned before the Lord, and somebody's trying to take advantage of me by getting me to tie the knot with someone I'm not in love with, and everyone thinks this is some damned funny joke! Like I'm a loser with an imaginary wife! _Well she's not imaginary!"_ He hurled the ring box at the wall. _"_ You can all go fuck yourselves!"

With that, he stomped out the door.

"You know, after that speech?" Amy said. " _So not ready to convert._ "

I suspected she still wouldn't have converted even if David hadn't said those angry things, but didn't say it out loud.

Ms. Whitmore opened her mouth to say something, but Lawrence raised his hand. " _Please._ I'll get indigestion."

Sarah started crying.

Whitmore got up, rubbing the woman's back. "There, there. It's okay. If the Lord wants to bring you two together, He'll bring you together. If not, well, maybe it's not meant to be, and He'll find you a better husband."

Sarah sniffed. "I geth you're ride."

"Poor guy," Jeff said. "He's been alone so long he doesn't know what to do with himself."

"Pillow is a nice lady," Morse said. "A _doctor_ she is. And a strange looking one at that. She's got _goat's eyes and a tail!_ "

Jeff stared at the man like his proverbial picnic basket were missing few sandwiches. _"Is that a fact."_

Morse nodded solemnly.

"She is a blessed angel from Shasharmazorb," Golic said. "Twice she has appeared at my cell with Christ and the Blessed Virgin, and Shasharmazorb, of course, with her glistening black crab's shell. They send rays of holy light through my body, red and green, fill me with everlasting peace, and show me visions of the future."

"You're not helping," Morse growled.

People rolled their eyes, looking at him like he were nuts. Maybe he was.

"Have you also met _Santa Claus_ or the _Easter Bunny_?" Lawrence asked with a wry grin.

Morse sunk in his chair, defeated.

Josh, having finished his food, now idly turned his plate over, examining the back.

He held a strange looking aluminum thing, with a lever along the bottom portion. It had a small plastic window in the center, showing a picture of a cat, elongated and narrow like one of those retro toilet brush holders.

Holding my food in place, I peeked under mine and found it showed the biohazard symbol.

"I have the letter R under mine," Kamara muttered to me. "I'm guessing this is a puzzle."

People were already eating, but Ms. Whitmore tapped a glass and said, _"I know some of you have started..."_ She cleared her throat. _"But I think we should all stop and say grace."_

Jeff rolled his eyes and kept eating.

"Grace," Amy joked, digging in.

Anthony, well, he just grudgingly picked at his chicken.

A prayer _was_ said, but half the guests just stared at her, and Jeff said his own irreligious `prayers' to mock her, reminding me of a scene from one of those exorcist movies.

Kamara poked me. "El!" she hissed. "What happened to your arm?"

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

Upon checking, I found a ragged gash had been torn down my forearm, and like my ankle, the flesh had been peeled back to reveal a sort of chitinous black shell.

It seemed I hadn't escaped that gun trap unscathed. The bullets had torn me open, through the jacket.

The table, once abuzz with conversation, now fell dead silent as I felt everyone's eyes upon me. I lowered my arm to my side, but it was too late.

They knew.

"Kid," Jeff said. "What the hell is wrong with your arm?"

"I...don't know," I stammered. "It's just the way I was born."

Anthony, upon seeing my wound, spat on the floor, retreating to a booth.

"Doesn't that hurt?" Kamara asked.

"Not really," I replied.

Josh smiled at me. "That's actually...kinda cool."

I got up from the table. "I'm going to the restroom."

"There probably aren't any bandages in there," said Lacy. "You might as well wrap it up in some of these napkins."

I just frowned at her.

The ladies' room was a single person arrangement, with a framed mirror and one of those ultramodern slanted sinks.

I washed out my wound, staring at it with a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Something like cables between the black plating under my skin moved when I flexed my fingers or shifted my arm around.

I wrapped my wound with cloth hand towels, tying it off with parts of the lanyard from the ID badge.

When I returned to the table, I saw Jeff in his assigned seat, someone else occupying the chair at the head of the table.

A familiar older woman with a witch-like face.

Her hair, once gray, now had a solid black coloration, but I could still recognize her.

"Agnes?" I stammered.

Everyone stared at me.

The woman smiled. "Hello, Ellie! _Welcome to your new home!_ "

I gawked at the woman. "It was all a lie! A _scheme_ to get me here!"

"You would have arrived here sooner or later," Agnes said.

Amy sighed. "So we're _not_ just here for a wedding."

"I'm afraid it's a little more complicated than that. While that _is_ part of the reason why you're here, it's not the only reason. Now, mealtime is a place for sharing... _Ellie_ , why don't you tell us a little about yourself?"

I cringed. "There's nothing to say. I'm nothing special."

" _She's being modest_ ," Agnes said. "This is a very _gifted_ little girl. I hesitate to say it, but you may owe your lives to her very soon."

"What's so special about her?" Amy asked.

" _She_ can tell you."

I just shook my head.

"She's very shy. Now, Ellie. I think there's _something you've been hiding for a very long time_...we're all friends here, so why don't you _relieve yourself of the burden?_ "

I glanced at Kamara uncomfortably. "What did you tell her?" I hissed.

My friend shrugged. "Nothing!"

I paled, staring at the woman in horror. _"I don't know what you're talking about."_

Agnes sighed through her nose. _"I suppose we'll have to work up to that one."_

I tried to ignore the suspicious glances I received from the other `guests.'

"Is there really a Pillow...Pulsa out there somewhere?" Josh asked. "An...alien wife?"

Agnes nodded like there was, but then gave him an apologetic smile. "Mr. Barnes has been suffering from _delusions_. You see, there were some _complications_ with cryogenics during his space flight. he seems to have suffered a little _brain damage_. The same damage that his soon to be wife has experienced.

"We're hoping he can pull out of this quickly...He's about to be a _father._ "

Her story convinced most the people around the table, inspiring excited murmuring.

Sarah stared at the woman in bewilderment. "I'm nod damaged," she protested, but the verdict was in.

I kept getting stares, like they wanted answers I didn't have, and thought I had them.

"Each and every one of you has a specific reason why you are here," Agnes said. "Your stay here at Rosedale Manors is therefore _a voyage of self discovery._

"The sooner you can fully comprehend the reason, the sooner you can leave.

"We have helpfully arranged puzzles to help you toward this end, but we will not solve your problem for you. This is not a game."

She picked the ring box up off the floor with dramatic slowness. "Examine yourself. _Look into the dark corners of your heart_ , _of your mind_ , and ask yourself, `What am I hiding?' It is the key that will unlock your own cell."

"I don't know about other people," Ms. Whitmore said. "But I _have_ no secrets! _I have confessed them all before the Lord!_ "

"That's very good, Shelly," Agnes said. " _But we are quite proficient at_ turning over rocks..."

The woman then looked at me in a way that made my blood run cold. What did she know?

Agnes stood up.

"So that's it, then," Jeff said. "Just give us a bunch of vague bullshit and threats and walk away."

"You'll see how vague everything is in a few hours, Mr. Maynard."

With that, she turned and marched out the rear door.

People kept staring at me.

"I don't know what she's going on about," I said. "I'm really nothing special."

Lawrence cleared his throat. "Do you at least have an _idea_ about how to proceed? _A solution to a puzzle, perhaps?_ "

I shrugged. "These plates look funny. They have weird things on the bottom. _Maybe it's a clue."_

Josh flipped the lever on his. "They kinda _do_ look like keys on the bottom..."

The two of us showed everyone our plates.

Jeff turned over the plate at Agnes's spot and found the astrological symbol for Scorpio. "I guess she's born in late October. If the bitch wants a gift, she can eat my shit! _I'll even wrap it up in a nice little bow for her..._ "

On that note, everyone either cleared the chicken bones off their plate, or shunted their food to the table cloth to examine their dishes.

Shelly turned hers over. An icon of a pacifier. "Are these specific to a particular individual, or is this some kind of big Memory game?"

Amy showed her the tiger on Anthony's plate. "Not sure. It _looks_ like Memory."

Kamara was squirmed in her chair. " _I...don't know what this is._ "

"Great," the plate's owner complained. "Not only is my food chicken, but now it has your germs on it." He angrily stomped out of the restaurant.

I pointed to the tiger. "Wait. Isn't that our school mascot?"

My friend looked uncomfortable. "Maybe?"

Jeff's plate had a Caduceus on it. "You're right. This definitely looks like Memory. I think we're supposed to memorize the seat placement or something, and remember where they go at breakfast." He tossed the plate in the middle of the table.

"The Caduceus," Lawrence mused as he turned it over in his hands. "The symbol of Hermes, often confused with the Rod of Clepius... _if you're playing Memory, you're ruining the order."_

"Are you a teacher or something?" Jeff asked.

 _"Sort of._ You see, I'm a _doctor at a teaching hospital_. A _heart surgeon_ , to be precise."

"Dude," Amy said. "You're like an MVP! You must have really pissed someone off to get thrown in here with us!"

" _I try my best_ ," Lawrence deadpanned.

Morse held up a picture of Scooby Doo.

"That's a little... _specific_ ," Kamara muttered. "Just like the tiger design."

Lawrence leaned forward, staring at her. "You think these plates match a specific person?"

Kamara shrugged. "I...dunno. But that tiger is my school mascot, and Scooby Doo is on Ellie's shorts."

So I traded my biohazard plate for Scooby, and Kamara got the tiger.

Golic held up a plate with the image of a ring on it. Everyone came to the obvious conclusion that it belonged to David.

"Whose pacifier is this?" Shelly asked.

 _"It has to be mine,_ " Amy said. _"Thanks to the butthole next to me, I don't get to take my baby anywhere on Saturdays."_

"Hey," Jeff snapped. "It was a fair ruling!"

"Fair! One hundred percent of all Saturdays? On what alien planet is that fair!"

More arguments ensued.

Shelly dropped the pacifier plate in front of Amy.

Sarah mumbled something indistinct about babies, but nobody paid her any mind.

She had a cross on her own plate. The plate from Kamara's spot, now in the center of the table, featured not an R, but a Chi Rho, which Shelly explained to be a Christian symbol. Both these items caused confusion because more than one person claimed it was theirs, on account of their faith.

 _Shelly thought they were_ all _hers._

Lawrence twirled his plate on its end like a quarter, a picture of an egg in a bird nest that nobody seemed to recognize.

David had a symbol of a gun on his plate, which didn't make much sense to anyone either.

"Maybe this person shot someone," Lawrence suggested. "Or spends a lot of time in the video arcade."

When Lacy turned hers over, Golic immediately shouted, "Holy!" and snatched it out of her hands. From what I could discern from that brief glimpse, it appeared to be a shrimp, or a banana with legs.

"Cool!" Amy laughed when she examined hers. "Where's the Cookie Monster?"

I snapped to attention, staring at the image. It was clearly Ernie from Sesame Street.

"That's mine," I blurted. "I know it is."

Amy rolled her eyes. "Kid, you already have Scooby Doo. _It's on your shorts._ "

"You're wrong. That one isn't mine. The one with Ernie is for me."

"Ernie from Sesame Street?" Jeff mocked. "You're seriously saying that's yours? How old are you, like _two?"_

"It has to belong to someone," I argued.

Amy shook her head in annoyance. "Just because you like a picture doesn't mean it's yours! _We're trying to get_ _out of this place!_ "

"I am too. It's too simple the way we have it."

Kamara nodded. "She's right. You heard what Agnes said about _dark corners_ -"

I elbowed her hard. Maybe a little too hard.

"Ow!" She clutched her side.

"She's creeped out by Ernie?" Amy asked.

Jeff grinned. " _I can see it._ "

"Ever since she-"

I pinched Kamara's arm.

" _It has a very deep personal meaning to her_ ," my friend finished.

That's how I got the plate.

"We don't even know what these things are for," Shelly said.

Josh flicked the lever on his plate, making its metal teeth come out the bottom. "They _have to_ be keys. _They're all different_."

"But has anyone actually seen a circular arrangement of holes like that anywhere?"

Josh absently toyed with his plate. "I got one under my bed. It looks like a manhole cover."

"Maybe that's the way out!" Amy cried. "We all climb down manholes like Inspector Gadget or some shit."

" _She's positive that she holds the right one_ ," Lawrence said.

Everyone at the table was looking at me expectantly, but I stayed where I was.

I was afraid.

What if it wasn't a manhole?

What if it wasn't even a machine gun or other deadly trap?

What if it were something worse? Something from my _dark corner_?

"Hey kid," Amy said. " _Ellie._ Get up and go to your room. You want to get out of this dump, or not?"

With tears trickling down my cheek, I gave her a reluctant nod.

I had to move my bed to find the manhole. The bed was heavy, but nothing to a girl who carried a dead body into a hole and buried it under four or five feet of dirt.

The manhole cover had been built with a circular spring lock that only opened with a plate. It was rather like sticking the bottom half of a fire alarm back on the ceiling, and just as annoying.

I fumbled with it a few times, thought maybe I had made a mistake, like I should have used Scooby, but then all of a sudden the thing clicked open.

A crowd had gathered in and around my narrow doorway. Now they gasped and shouted questions.

"What's in it?" they called.

When I saw what lay inside the darkened opening, I burst into tears.


	6. Chapter 6: Ernie

My tears were of temporary relief, followed by horrified fear.

The manhole did not open into an underground tunnel, to freedom, as I originally supposed.

Instead, I found a colorful patch with the word Nostromo on it, stitchwork depicting an image of two intersecting planets.

Beneath this patch, I saw another reading USSM. And then there were photographs.

A stern looking older woman with bushy curly hair flowing around her face, a woman I often confused with Christa McAuliffe the Challenger astronaut.

A little girl with blonde hair, sitting among her classmates in a place that looked like the moon.

There were others.

A handsome male soldier.

A bony looking doctor with a shaved head.

A cigar smoking black man with an army cap.

A Mexican lady with a bandanna.

Astronauts, presumably from that Nostromo thing. They all had the same patches.

But then, below these items, I discovered a bag of dirt.

Through the clear plastic, I could just barely see the now familiar tarnished brass watch peeking out.

The burglar's watch.

"What's in it?" I heard people ask.

They were closer now, so I just turned and held the items up for them to view.

Everything except the dirt, that is.

"They're crazy!" I shouted. "This is the same stuff they show me at school!"

I showed them the patches and pictures, mentally debating what to do with the dirt as I did so.

"They show you this at school?" Jeff asked incredulously.

I shrugged. "Yeah. The woman's a _hero_. Saved her whole crew from a biochemical attack or something."

Amy looked at the photographs and laughed. "Hey! Check this out!" she said, pointing to the bushy haired adult. " _That's_ the chick that babysat me when I was a kid! _I'm sure of it!_ "

"You got babysat by an astronaut?" Jeff said in a disbelieving tone.

Sarah pointed at the image and mumbled.

Morse squinted. "She seems... _very familiar..._ " He held the picture closer to his face, covering up the hair with his fingers. " _Her name was_ _Ripley_ ," he said slowly. _"I saw her die."_

"So _that_ was her last name," Amy breathed. "She's dead?"

I got stared at.

"What did you do?" Jeff asked.

So much color had drained from my face that I thought I'd be able to camouflage myself next to a piece of paper. "Nothing!"

"Did you _kill_ this person?" Lawrence asked. "Or _do something bad_ to her?"

I wiped tears out of my eyes. "Look, I don't know what all this is about. I really don't. People think...I don't know, that I know something about all that, but they're crazy. I have no guilt whatsoever about this Ripley woman, or those people in the photos."

 _"You could easily be her kid,"_ Morse said. _"You have certain resemblance."_

I had been trying to keep everyone away from the manhole, edging toward the doorway and everything, but Lawrence stepped around me, examining the bag of dirt.

He held it up for everyone to see.

"What's this?"

As he shook it, I could just barely see the end of a finger bone projecting from the light brown humus.

"I don't know," I lied. "Like I said, these people are crazy! They probably got me confused with another... _clone_ because I took her jacket."

Lawrence frowned, his gaze boring deep into my eyes. I thought I would crack for sure. A tear trickled out, but I forced myself to pretend.

It was the other clone that did this.

That wasn't the same dead man. Maybe they weren't even from a man. Maybe they were just animal bones, to unnerve me.

Anyone could have a watch like that.

I pretended to be a different girl, one that just happed to have a murderous identical twin. It wasn't that difficult.

How long would it take for the man to be reduced to a skeleton anyway? Surely it hadn't been long enough!

I forced myself to be calm, breathing out.

Lawrence flipped the bag over. "Oh my God."

He cleared off my nightstand, dumping the bag's contents for all to see.

A whole skeletal hand, with a rusty brass watch wrapped around the wrist joints.

Everyone stared at me like I did it. Even Josh.

Josh, who had mastered the arts of burping intelligible phrases and tearing open soda cans with his teeth. He thought I was a cold blooded killer, I was certain of it.

"Those patches aren't mine," I said. "Those photos aren't mine, and this definitely isn't mine." As I said this, I felt like I were pulling a black cloth over my heart and smothering it, but there was nothing I could do.

What if I confess and they put me in a worse prison?...Or execute me? "There's copies of me everywhere. A regular army. I _saw_ them."

"She's right," said Kamara. " _I saw them too._ I think they're using them for military operations."

I silently thanked my friend. She smirked a little, but she knew just as much as me about the psychology of the situation, for she kept up an indifferent mask, you know, to make our collusion less obvious.

Now Lawrence was frowning at _her_.

Instead of interrogating us further, he returned to the severed hand, examining it more carefully.

Morse joined him in staring. "This is very odd, but not unheard of."

"Is this...the hand from that woman in the picture?"

Morse shook his head. "Impossible. Burned to death by molten slag, she was."

Lawrence scowled, dusting off the bones. "You're right, it's impossible. This guy was clearly a bodybuilder." He spread his fingers to match the hand. "The bones are so _thick!_ "

It was true. The man _had_ been rather bulky and strong.

I shrank away from these armchair detectives. Kamara gave me that look she gave when I played basketball and missed an easy shot. She spread her hands and pointed to the men, mouthing, "Why not?"

What could they do to me, she seemed to be saying.

I shook my head no.

"How are you sure it's not a woman?" Morse asked.

"The bones aren't slender enough. Unless she's _Helga of the North_...Plus this is a men's watch, _so unless someone did a switch..."_

I was at the door when I heard Lawrence mutter, "Wait a second. _What's this?_ "

The man held up a little plastic box, no thicker than a CD jewel case, three inches square. The object had little buttons, which Mr. Meyer toyed with until a light came on.

He squinted at the device for a minute, then laughed. "It looks like a craft show!...I'm not sure what the funny monster gloves are for...I have it on full volume, but I can't hear anything."

"Let me see it," Morse said, grabbing the box.

He frowned at the screen. "It reminds me of _Thwaka..._ "

" _Morse_ ," said a voice from the box. He was so startled that he dropped it.

"Who's Thwaka?" Lawrence asked.

"You won't believe me," Morse said. "He's a... _space creature._ "

"I suppose that would explain the _gloves_ ," Lawrence muttered.

"It's mine!" Golic shouted, diving down to grab the device before anyone else could.

"Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik!" he said to the screen. "It is Golic, your faithful servant!"

"Give me to the girl," the voice said. "I wish to speak to the one named... _Ellie._ "

Golic stared at the box with astonishment for a moment, then, with shaking, trembling hands, handed the object to me. "You have been entrusted with a sacred relic! Do not take a thing like this lightly!"

"I...won't," I stammered.

An eyeless black face appeared on the screen. When I saw it, I almost dropped the device.

A mouth full of dripping fangs shaped itself into a smile. A claw waved at me.

Lawrence, who had been watching over my shoulder, let out a chuckle. _"It's some kind of talking bug!"_

"What are you?" I whispered, not really expecting a reply.

"My name is Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, or _Ernie_ if that's too difficult for you."

I stared at the thing in bafflement. " _Ernie is your name?_ "

The bug thing shrugged and nodded.

I was temporarily speechless, afraid to say too much, but afraid to lose the moment, the opportunity.

"I found...a _doll_ outside. It had a _note_ in it."

" _So you found it_ ," he said. "Praise Jesus."

"You set a trap for me!" I cried.

It was hard to read the face, but it appeared I had hurt the thing's feelings. "It was not my intention. You must believe me when I say I know next to nothing about you. If my efforts were used as part of a trap, it was not my fault."

Kamara crossed her arms, shaking her head. " _He only provided the bait_."

The creature sighed.

My eyes became wet with tears. "So that card... _it didn't mean anything._ "

" _Child_ ," Ernie said. " _I meant every word!_ _You are loved by the heavenly Father!"_

How can God possibly love _me_? I thought. I'm a killer!

"But then you... _it was all a trap!"_

"The Lord's hand was behind this. This is far beyond the power of any Ss'sik'chtokiwij or human agency. You see, I was inspired to arrange it all for you on account of a _dream_."

I shook my head no. "God put me in this...hotel."

I heard a chuckle. "At least it's not a prison cell."

"I don't understand," I said.

"I have frequent nightmares about a lost child, wandering around in hell, as one weighted with a heavy burden. She cries out to me, but no matter how loudly I shout, she curls into a ball and cries that no one loves her. She was clinging to a Sesame Street toy. I remembered that very strongly, because it was associated with my name.

"And then I saw a vision, about a specific location on the compound. A garden with a marble bench. I saw the doll there. I saw the note inside it.

"I knew it was madness to pursue a dream like this. Lesser Christians have wandered away into cults for such folly, but I knew I would not sleep unless I at least humored the vision this once.

"Making use of the staff was a necessary evil. I couldn't leave my cell. I suppose now they will incorrectly assume that I'm psychic."

A tear trickled down my cheek. "Do you love me?"

"El," Kamara scolded. "It's a _puppet._ "

From her vantage point, it probably _did_ look that way, but I could see the details close up, and I had _dreamed_ of such creatures before.

"I do love you," the creature said.

I smiled a little.

"You are afraid?"

I didn't reply.

"Do I frighten you?"

"You're not a puppet, are you?"

"No...not unless the Almighty chooses me to be one for His purpose."

I clenched my hand.

"What are you afraid of?"

I shook my head violently.

"You have a _burden_ , don't you? I can see it in your face. It must be weighing heavily on your heart. _Please share it with me._ I will not judge."

Everybody was watching me, listening in.

It wasn't just my the opinion of my companions that I feared. There were _cameras_. "I... _can't. Not here._ "

"This may be your only chance, child."

"I know," I said. "But I can't. I'll try to find you. I promise."

"A promise is a hard thing to keep."

The power went out abruptly. The screen darkened. I dropped the device to the floor.

Golic snatched the device away, shoving it into his pocket.

"What's this about a doll?" Lawrence asked.

I stared at the man uncomfortably. I didn't really want to divulge my secret to him, but I needed to placate him somehow.

"I was sneaking around the place," I said. "I saw a doll and I got curious. I didn't know it was a trap."

He laughed. " _There was a little more to it than that. I can tell."_

I froze, at a loss for words to say.

When I opened my mouth to make an attempt, I heard Morse saying next to him, "` _For all have sinned and hath fallen short of the glory of God._ '"

Lawrence narrowed his eyes at me, perhaps not agreeing with the sentiment.

"It's _sexual_ , okay?" I blurted. "I'm really ashamed of it. Do I _have_ to spell out the details?"

He frowned. _"And you don't know anything about these bones."_

"No."

He stepped away, letting me be.

Someone bleached the bones, I thought as I looked at them. To keep the bugs away. Why were they here?

Why were they playing this game with me?

Why Ernie?

I heard my audience muttering amongst themselves about checking their own plates, seeing what they had in their rooms. It seemed the heat was off me, for the moment.

Amy knelt in front of me and Kamara, brushed strands of brown hair out of her face. "Hey. This is going to sound like a dumb question, but where are your parents?"

The woman smelled faintly of cigarettes, not recently smoked, of course. I looked away from her face, staring at the shirt with the icon of the crosshairs and the exploding building.

"Mom and dad are outside the fence," I said.

"Mine too," Kamara agreed.

"That... _Agnes_ woman knew you," Amy said to me. "She said you were _home_. Are you sure that's not your mom or grandmother?"

I shook my head.

"I'm sorry about your folks," she said. "I hope you find them."

I smiled a little.

She left the room. It was just me and Kamara now. I breathed a huge sigh of relief, collapsing on the bed.

Kamara shot me a look of disgust. "I'm going to see what the others have."

I nodded and waved her along.

I tried to sleep, but only ended up tossing and turning. After what happened the first time I fell unconscious, can you blame me?

I kept staring at the skeletal hand, imagining it crawling off the nightstand and choking me.

I wanted to flush it down the toilet, or put it in a trash can, but I couldn't bring myself to do that with human remains. Also, the window didn't open. I rolled over.

I had no shovel.

If I put the bones back in the bag, someone would just pull them out again, and I'd look more suspicious than I already was.

I got up, wandering down the hall to see what Lacy was doing.

I found her sitting alone by herself. It seemed the Scooby Doo plate was hers, for a manhole on the wall was open, behind where a framed Mondrian had been hanging. In her hands she held a little black diary, in her other hand she held a photograph of an oddly familiar lake...and a pair of underwear that looked suspiciously like mine. She kept staring at the items.

"What's all that?" I said, dreading the answer the moment it escaped my lips.

" _Nothing._ "

I sighed. "Is that my underwear?"

She only said ". _..Um._ "

I stepped closer, her face seeming to get more and more red the closer I got. "What are you doing with my underwear? What is all this?"

"I have _feelings_ for you, okay!" she cried.

Feeling a sudden wave of nausea, I backed away from her quickly. "No. That is definitely _not_ _okay_!"

I thought I heard her choke down sob.

"Look. I have feelings for you too, _but_ _only as a friend!_ "

"They read my diary," she croaked.

She showed me the photograph. "That's the cabin we had a camp.. _.we went...swimming._ "

I shuddered at what she was implying. I noticed her behaving very strangely at the lake sometimes. She'd touch me in a weird way, or I'd be on the dock in my bikini, and she'd be in the water, asking me to come over to her, and when I'd get there, she'd say, "Never mind" as she looked at me strangely. I just never put two and two together before.

"That underwear thing at school...was that all your idea?"

"Kinda...not really."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She didn't answer.

"Is it Kamara?"

"... _No._ "

"Josh."

"...Maybe?"

This whole thing was creepy. But there were worse things going on right now, so I couldn't be too angry.

That being said, I couldn't exactly be happy about it, either. "The only friends I have, and you're a bunch of creepy weirdos...But I guess I'm stuck with you."

Lacy rubbed her eyes and smirked at me. I decided to go to someone else's room, and check _their_ progress. Someone who wasn't Lacy or Josh.

Golic's door was closed. I guess he wasn't afraid of being locked in again.

I found Lawrence in his own room, scowling at a black medical bag. I was certain I could find a secret in there somewhere, but I didn't dare go near him, for fear of him discovering mine.

Shelly was on her bed, staring glumly into a shoe box.

Morse had opened his compartment with the Chi Rho, but I found neither he nor his special items in the room.

Nobody else seemed to know which plate corresponded to whom, or where their manhole cover was. I saw Jeff standing on a chair to get one on the ceiling, but the plate didn't work. He kept on trying anyway.

Feeling claustrophobic, I went outside and found David standing under the gazebo, staring into the sky.

I marched up the short stair and joined him on a floor spray stenciled with the image of a laughing crow with cards in its claws.

For a moment, I just idly watched Amy wandering around the buildings, trying to find an avenue of escape. The Canada geese strutted around, acting like they owned the place.

I admired David's outfit, reflecting how much prettier it was than the outfit I currently wore. " _Is there really a Pillow_?" I asked.

"Oh not you too!" David groaned. _"I hoped you were better than that!"_

"I meant no offense. I was only curious. Is it really true? Do you really have an alien wife?"

"I swear to God it's true. It's no mental delusion, either. We have two sons together. The first one's with another alien. The second one is actually mine. They're keeping both prisoner." He jabbed the railing with his index finger. "Here."

He sighed. "Pillow is all I can think about. Waking up to that beautiful face...other men would be repulsed by those weird eyes, that strange little nose...I bet you think I'm crazy, don't you?"

I frowned and shook my head. "I think I just _spoke_ to an alien. There was a device in my room."

The man's melancholy mood seemed to vanish. "Really! What was their name?"

"Um," I stammered. "Ernie?"

" _Ernie_ ," he said in an anxious tone. "Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik?"

I slowly nodded. "I _think_ that's what he said."

He laughed. "Good old Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik! Best Ss'sik'chtokiwij I ever met!...What did she say?"

I lost my tongue. "I... _it's personal._ "

He put a hand on my shoulder. " _Foqipi.._.I would trust Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik with my life."

Noticing my facial expression, he added, "And you can trust me with yours."

" _I wish I could believe you_." And then, seeking to maintain rappor, I quickly blurted, "He told me that God loves me."

David chuckled, patted me on the back. "That's not a secret."

I reddened. "That's the part I can tell."

He grinned at me. "Now I _know_ you spoke to her. Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik is quick to share Jesus with people."

"Do you know where I can find him?" I asked.

He slumped onto the wooden floor. "We're not going to get there. It's hopeless." He pointed to the west. "Beyond those trees they have walls with electrified razor wire along the top. I'd give anything to see my wife again, and warm my son's egg, but it's not going to happen.

"They told me to let my family go, and I could leave. They even coerced Pillow to tell me to go."

He rubbed his face in frustration. "She's being kept in one of those restricted facilities. You don't have a chance of getting in there."

"How did you get here?" I asked. "To this place?"

"I don't remember the last few hours, but I remember what happened before."

He took a deep breath. "You're not going to find a lot of this familiar, so I'll have to explain a few things.

"Me, Ernie, Pillow and some other crewmates went to the prison planet Fiorina 161 to witness to prisoners there.

"We preached a little, but Ernie's grandmother showed up, killing some of the prisoners.

"And then some people at the prison made the mistake of opening one of the containers taken from LV 426, releasing a deadly self replicating alien worm. More people started dying.

"Ms. Shasharmazorb was led to Christ. She _actually ate_ _the worms_ , saving us and the remaining prisoners from certain death.

"That's when Mr. Weyland came in, trying to take Ernie and her grandmother away for a military project. The prisoners fought back. Golic, Morse and a handful of my friends were the only ones who survived.

"Sadly, my friend Sharad got caught in the crossfire. A bullet had wounded her second liver.

"I believe in forgiving my enemies, and we were fighting a losing battle anyway, so we surrendered. Weyland seemed like a nice man at first. He promised to give Sharad the medical attention he needed, so we got onboard his spaceship.

"Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik has probably written all of this in her journal, but here's basically what happened..."

(Section missing)

[0000]

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611501

Personal Diary of Subject 78453760 ("Ernie")

* * *

[0000]

I watched with breathless anxiety as the doctors worked to safely remove the damaged second liver of my young little Abreya friend.

Her eyes, set on tentacles on the sides of her face, drifted closed as she breathed from an oxygen mask.

Her dalmatian spotted body lay half covered under the bright surgical lamp, the incision area shaved to prevent infection from her hairy body. There was a lice problem at the prison, but the child hadn't been inside the premises long enough for that to be a concern. Her long opossum-like tail and monkey feet twitched under the blue covers.

On her left, Pillow, clad in a black romper patterned with alien floral designs, supplied the blood for the operation, from her own veins. Not the best idea, even with a tail propping her up in a standing position.

On Sharad's other side, Mrs. Wagner, a brown haired doctor of Germanic descent, clad in scrubs, cut into the bile duct, or whatever that is that conveys fluid to the Abreya's second liver.

We were surrounded by soldiers and bulletproof glass in a medical lab onboard a spaceship called a Highliner. The vehicle rocked slightly as it rose into the air, making me worry about mishaps with the scalpel.

The guinea pig faced humanoid leaned on the operating table, clearly feeling the effects of blood loss.

Her husband, clad in jeans and a Jesus shirt, stood by her side, the worriment clear in his face. "You want me to hold something? We might be able to, I don't know, _get you a sports bottle or something with a sports drink or Pedialyte in it_..."

"You just want me to drink like a guinea pig."

He chuckled. "A _sexy_ guinea pig, maybe. Anyway, it's better than getting another shot in the neck, right?"

Mr. Weyland supervised the operation. He _had_ previously given Pillow a shot full of nutrients to keep her from fainting. Her biology proved human enough for there not to be an allergic reaction.

Weyland looked like one of his androids, but I could tell by scent that he wasn't artificial. Plus, he was being treated for a gunshot wound, and his blood was red.

"I have nutritional shakes," the man offered. "They're very good. I take them whenever I'm too busy to eat. What flavor do you want? I got vanilla, chocolate and cherry."

Pillow sighed. "Cherry, please."

Weyland motioned to one of his labcoated assistants.

A short labcoated African American woman with a bun hairdo brought forth a large bottle that looked suspiciously like a pet feeder.

Pillow rolled her goat's eyes when she saw it. "You have _got_ to be kidding."

David took the bottle, lifting it to her face. "Would it help if I said I've always secretly fantasized about doing this?"

His wife's skin flushed green with embarrassment. " _Not...really._ " Then, in a lower tone, she growled, _"I'm going to get you for this!_ "

With a grin, David put the `straw' end of the bottle to her mouth, and she slowly lapped up the shake.

"This is making me _so_ hot," he teased.

In the meantime, Mrs. Wagner cauterized something. From my vantage point, I could see the smoke, but not much else. My two larva sat quietly on my shoulder plates, as fascinated as I was about the procedure.

I cradled Pillow's first baby in my arms, an adorable ball of fur with a tail and a face like his mother. Nathan should have screamed at me, but the boy seemed oddly at peace in my bony arms, pressed against my exoskeleton. Julia and Newt stood on my shoulders, smiling at the infant.

Sarah paced the floor, her face expressing the same anxiety that everyone else felt.

Grandmother stood behind me. Her large exoskeleton could barely fit in the tiny space, but she made herself as small as she could.

"I do not understand what they are doing," Grandmother said. "How is the removal of an organ from this little one going to allow her to keep living?"

I explained to her how it worked.

"That is strange. When I remove organs from a creature, it always dies."

"It is a complicated interrelationship of organisms," I said. "Simply removing something can be fatal. New bonds must be formed in order to keep the others functioning."

"So theoretically I could take only _part_ of a human away and eat it, and it would still live."

"It would not be a loving Christian thing to do," I said. "But yes, theoretically."

She paused in thought for a moment, watching the females work. "Can I have that liver when they're done with it?"

I stared at her. Her belly was still bloated from devouring several killer self replicating worms. So was mine. "I thought you were so full that your belly hurt."

"I am," she said. "I was hoping they could save it for later."

"I'm afraid that's impossible," Weyland said. "This female's liver is a valuable scientific resource. It needs to be studied. But if you want livers, I'm sure something can be arranged." He glanced at Newt and my other family members. "For all of you."

"Please tell me that's not as creepy as it sounds," said David.

"Really," Newt agreed. "I might be in an alien body, but I'm not going to start eating people!"

The man coughed. " _Not human beings, of course._ We have a wide range of different animals to choose from."

Grandmother nodded. Newt just looked glum.

" _You trust me_ ," I said to Weyland. "I and Grandmother are strong and powerful, yet you do not put us in restraints."

"I watched how you acted when my soldiers came in," he said. "You did not harm a hair on their heads. Then, of course, I noticed how the prisoners were still alive, and they weren't frightened by you."

"Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik's a good gal," David said. The informality of the statement made me smile.

"Another thing that reassured me as well: You'd recently eaten. A predatory animal is far more dangerous when it's hungry."

"And what if I were hungry?" I said.

Weyland shrugged. "I have brain cancer. I already know I'm going to die. You'd only change the when."

"And this is how you plan to spend your last days?" I said. "Doing scientific things with aliens?"

" _Could you imagine_ ," Weyland said. "If there's some _technology_ , a _chemica_ l, or some _organ_ _in your body_ that eradicates cancer? Do you know how amazing that would be?"

I reacted how you might imagine a person would if someone were asking for your vital organs. I bowed my head and looked away. "I suppose this explains your DAMBALLAH organization."

 _"To a certain extent."_

Sarah kept accidentally bumping into people and getting in the way, so a pair of nurses led her out of the room.

For a moment, all was quiet save for the mechanical machinery and the clicking of Pillow's feeder bottle.

"Is this going to be bad for our baby?" David asked.

Pillow stopped licking and sighed. "I keep silently praying it won't, but Sharad's life must come first. If she dies, I'll never forgive myself."

Her goat eyes narrowed as she watched the human doctor operate. "Careful, Renee."

"I know what I'm doing," she shot back. "It's only a doubled liver. Your bodies aren't as different as you think."

I glanced at our gracious host. Weyland's doctors had stitched up and bandaged the gunshot wound to his arm, so now he sat on a bench, eating Nutter Butters to regain the lost blood sugar.

"Do you believe in Jesus?" I asked him.

He swallowed a morsel. " _I believe the historical figure existed._ "

" _That's a start_ ," I muttered.

I could tell, for some reason, that this discussion depressed Newt, but she didn't tell me why.

The set of glass doors at the end of the room slid open and a square jawed soldier in a gray uniform marched in bearing a plastic IV bag full of blue liquid the color of fabric softener.

"Sir!" the man said. "Is this what you were looking for, sir?"

During the last few minutes of the operation, he had brought in a bag of red human blood, then black, both from my friends' spaceship, but neither one correct for our patient.

Pillow glanced back, then sighed in relief. " _Guep_! Yes. That's it, praise God!"

She quickly exchanged her vein for the bag, hooked it onto a hanging rack, and slumped heavily into the nearest chair.

Weyland offered her a Nutter Butter, but after she ate it, she demanded, "More."

She consumed a whole box, washing it down with the contents of the bottle, feeder `straw' removed.

When she saw Mrs. Wagner putting the liver in a surgical basin, she leapt to her feet again, staring into the incision site with worriment.

"It's stitched and sealed together," Renee said with some annoyance. "It's been _cauterized. She'll be fine_. Vitals are still stable. There's a reason why doctors are generally not allowed to operate on people they're close to."

"It can't be helped. I'm the only alien doctor here." She brushed Sharad's hair away from her forehead. "I wish I had the tools from my ship. This procedure is so _barbaric_!"

"You have nothing to worry about. After undergoing similar procedures, people have survived, and moved on to resume their active and fulfilling lives."

I and Grandmother were still full from lunch, but now I had other concerns.

At Fiorina 161, I normally went to the bathroom in the dusty soil outside the prison. I hadn't gone for awhile, and my larva had similar issues. I mentioned this to Weyland, and he brought us some glass tanks.

"My apologies," he said. "But I would like to get some urine samples."

"Your people took plenty of samples on LV 426," I said.

"Those samples were destroyed. There may have also been new health developments. My doctors check my urine all the time to see if there's a medical problem."

He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. We don't have a privacy screen."

I pointed to the one above Sharad.

"...other than that one. Please don't contaminate the patient."

Despite the humiliation, this was twice the respect and formality I normally got for such things in a laboratory setting. I shrugged and gave my sample.

He collected samples from Grandmother and Julia. Embarrassing, yes, but we understood the situation. Even Newt was okay with it after she wrapped her small body with a towel.

"Mr. Weyland," I said. "May I ask you another question?"

"You're an intelligent alien presence," he said. "There's very little I wouldn't tell you, or, at the very least, _reply to._ "

"Do you have anything to do with the DAMBALLAH program?"

(Section redacted)

"That's what the simulations and emotionally sensitive synthetics are for," Mr. Weyland said.

I hardly thought his response was adequate, but the only arguments I could supply were based largely on emotion and theology, which I doubted would hold sway over the man.

The doctors closed the wound, then watched the patient for awhile.

Morse and Golic had already been taken away. Mr. Weyland said they'd been put in cryogenic stasis. He told me it would be a challenge to refrigerate Grandmother, but since our voyage could take months, the necessary machinery had been prepared.

"Where are we going next?" I asked.

Weyland took a booklet out of a cabinet, handing it to me. "You can read, correct?"

I nodded, scanning the glossy pages.

It looked like an apartment brochure, with scenes from a park, and luxury bedrooms.

"We get our own _homes_?" I asked in surprise. "With _washing machines_? I don't even wear clothing!"

"I'm sure you'll find _some use_ for one," he said with a warm smile.

"That's awfully nice of you," I said.

Newt had been reading over my shoulder. "No kidding! It's almost like heaven!"

"Sounds too good to be true," David muttered.

"I find it easier to get results from my subjects if the conditions are more... _amicable._ "

David let out a derisive snort. "Like butter from `contented cows'?"

"Actually, that's not a bad description."

"Mr. Weyland," David said. "As great as your offer sounds, I'd like to go back to some semblance of my actual home. I'm originally from _Nebraska_...If it's not too much trouble, could you please drop me and my friends off _there_?"

Our host shot David a pained facial expression. "I'm sorry. That's out of the question... _unless you want to go alone_."

David frowned. "I...I can't do that."

Weyland raised his hands in a way that nonverbally said `I offered.'

"So we're actually your prisoners."

Newt sighed, shook her head.

"I prefer ` _detained foreign ambassadors_.'"

"And how long are we being ` _detained'_?"

"That I do not know."

"I thought customs wouldn't allow the importation of extraterrestrial lifeforms," I told the man. "The Ripley woman said that's why you had men trying to impregnate her with larva."

He sighed and nodded. " _We've recently found ways to bypass the problem._ "

(Redacted)

Pillow staggered to her feet. "We have to help Thonwa."

Our friend had been injured in one of our previous battles. Thonwa was a large insectoid creature, with physiology similar to my own.

Not identical to my own, but similar. She has a striking resemblance to a ladybug. Her reproductive organs are attached to her head, she has a proboscis, and she reproduces by laying eggs in a special pond, but we both have exoskeletons.

David pushed his wife back into the chair. "I know. _I love her too, but you need the strength._ Eat some more food, at least! _"_

"She could die!"

"She's in cold storage, baby."

Pillow let out a little puppy dog whimper.

David hugged her. "C'mon, my little space rodent! You did a good job with Sharad. Thonwa only needs a few stitches redone. You can afford to rest a little and take a breather. It's okay."

" _You'll never get away with this, earthman!_ " she muttered with a slight smile.

"You were good once, _Zoranna_ ," David said. "The power of _this kiss_ may be just enough to break the enchantment of evil that holds you!" It appeared this was some sort of role playing he often did with his wife.

"I am the mistress of evil! Kisses have no effect against my power!"

"That's because you've never been kissed by _Rick Rocket, Master of Space!_ "

Pillow giggled. " _Do your worst, Rick Rocket!_ "

They kissed.

" _Oh brother_ ," Weyland groaned.

Newt looked...depressed, maybe envious of the couple. I guess she saw something she'd never have.

The ship had a sort of dining area, but Pillow didn't want to leave Sharad's side, so they brought her a turkey sub sandwich and waffle sticks and pickles. They knew she was pregnant, so they were very understanding of her weird tastes.

David took the baby from me, feeding him with a bottle. I carried my larva over to the patient, watching her sleep.

The eyes on Sharad's fleshy eystalks cracked open slightly. "Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik?" she croaked.

I gave her hand a gentle squeeze, which is a little challenging with chitinous claws.

The female smiled and squeezed back. "David just adopted me. You want to be my aunt?"

"I'd love to be your aunt," I said.

"Can I be her sister?" Julia asked with excitement.

"I think she'd like that."

"I'd like to be her sister too," said Newt.

Sharad's eyes closed, her smile fading as she drifted into a calm, healthy slumber.

Mrs. Wagner checked the patient's vitals for another moment before announcing, "She should be fine. The monitors will send me an alert if there's been an adverse change." She paused. "Can I hold your baby?"

Pillow gave her a weary smile and nodded.

The woman cradled Nathan to her chest, stroking his fur as she muttered baby talk to it.

"Are you a pediatrician?" David asked.

"No," she said. " _Veterinarian._ I did work for a private medical practice once, but I always wanted to work with animals. Nobody seriously pursues a career in xenobiology. I just kinda fell into it."

"You seem good with kids."

The woman only shrugged, handing the child back to his father. "When's the last time he's been changed?"

"We have diapers onboard if you need them," Weyland said. "They're really intended for chimps, but we're not carrying any right now."

David grimaced. "As insulting as that sounds, I think that would be good."

So Mrs. Wagner helped Mr. Barnes change the baby on a small animal operating table nearby.

Weyland sighed, pointing to Newt. "Your friend...She claims to have transferred her consciousness from a human body into her current larval form. I'd like to reproduce the results, if I could. How was this transfer achieved?"

 _"I died,"_ Newt blurted.

"I know what you're trying to do," David said. "But it won't work. Sarah tried to do the same thing They interfaced brains, but they kept the bodies they had."

Julia scampered down my arm to talk to him. "Host mommy tried to make me do something I couldn't do."

"What happened to Newt that didn't happen to Sarah?"

"From what I hear, Newt was near death," David said.

The larva nodded. "I saw Jesus."

"Yeah. So...What happened was sort of a _miracle._ "

"I don't believe in miracles," Weyland said.

"The band Hot Chocolate does," David joked. "Are you saying you don't like Hot Chocolate?"

"I prefer _tea_ ," the man said with a smirk. "So you think the child's death trauma could have provoked a mind-body transfer."

"... _Maybe._ "

Weyland gazed longingly at the larva.

"Whoa," David blurted. "Before you do anything hasty, Dr. Mengele, I have to warn you: We're only assuming, _by faith_ , that that little girl is still with us."

I nodded. "As much as I hate saying it, there's a possibility that this larva only _believes_ she is Newt, and the real Newt is gone, to heaven."

"Hey!" Newt cried. "That's not true!"

I saw the man swallowing a lump. His neck was baggy enough to make the motion quite visible. _"You're saying the larva could be merely delusional."_

"Yeah...so before you... _do anything drastic..._ "

"I'm not delusional!" Newt said. "I'm still me!"

That didn't help anyone's case.

Weyland sighed. "I'm not as bad as Ellen Ripley said I am. You obviously trust me a little, or you wouldn't have let me take you onboard."

"Well...you didn't try to kill Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik's Grandmother..." David agreed.

"This kind of mind-body transfer, at worst, seems to have as much value as uploading your consciousness into a synthetic."

David visibly cringed. " _...At best?_ "

After a thoughtful pause, Weyland said, "A last resort."

He fell silent, lost in contemplation.

Mrs. Wagner left the room to take her break. After she left, the doors at the end of the chamber opened, and a tall half Caucasian Japanese woman came in, bearing a tablet computer. With her long face, slight nose and almond shaped eyes, I thought the woman would be a good choice for actress in an alien invasion movie. "Sir, the samples are all adulterated. We can't seem to separate the alien and human chromosomes."

Weyland waved at her dismissively. "Keep trying. That specimen had a rare genetic marker not present in the ones we have here. Human cell regeneration in the sample could be _the key!_ "

"I could lay another if you want," Grandmother muttered, but Weyland ignored her.

The woman nodded, returning to her station.

"I wouldn't," David said to Grandmother. "They'll just use the eggs for war. To _kill people._ "

"Mr. Barnes," Weyland said. "Don't you want your country to have fifty states again?"

"What," David said. "You gonna float California back up the surface?"

"No, I was referring to _The Colonies,_ currently designated The Thirteen Pillars."

David shrugged. "I could do without election primaries and baked beans."

"So you don't mind having _Sharia government_."

"Christians have lived under oppressive governments for centuries. The government collapses, and we just keep trucking along."

"So the risk of being beheaded doesn't bother you at all."

"Not if my sacrifice can save a soul for Jesus...What are _you_ willing to die for?"

" _A better world_ ," Weyland said.

"So it's not just a catchy slogan on a plaque."

Weyland made no reply to that.

I glanced at the doors. "Where's Sarah?"

"She's been placed in cryogenic stasis with the others. It'll save time when we dock with the ship."

Being a doctor, Pillow knew a great deal about refrigerating our other injured friend Thonwa. The normal intravenous solutions used to maintain vital functions in humans were inappropriate for a Cijmabsa. I don't remember all the particulars, but I do know she insisted on putting extra nitrogen, and glass cleaner was to be introduced to the line.

She must have done it right, for our patient was brought out of refrigeration, alive, and the Abreya could proceed with the operation right away.

Pillow sucked in her breath as she saw the damage, but she remained calm and confident.

Thonwa's eyes, on horn-like growths atop her head, groggily glanced around the room.

"Do you know the proper procedure to knock yourself unconscious and maintain life functions during a prolonged cryogenic freeze?" Mr. Weyland asked me.

I thought about it for a moment. "No."

"Don't ask questions like that," David said. "You're making me nervous."

"This isn't a human being, Mr. Barnes. I doubt we can use the same chemicals."

I asked Grandmother about it.

"When I was drifting in space years ago," she said, referring to the incident with the Nostromo. "I made my body go into hibernation."

"So we just have to wait for you to do that," Weyland said in a disappointed murmur.

"Actually," Pillow said as she stitched up her patient. "We've successfully put Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik under a few times to treat her injuries. I believe I can give you a list of chemical solutions. They're somewhat similar to what I used on Thonwa, but the ammonia level needs to be increased to a larger volume, and there's literal antifreeze involved."

"How do you know that?" I asked.

"Planet Wuxrinus," she sighed. "We learned many things about how not to kill your kind, as they were killing us."

"Good," Weyland said. "That should make things much simpler."

"Is that Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik?" Thonwa moaned.

Since nobody was warning me about contamination risks, I stepped around to the creature's uninjured side and held her claw.

"Hey, good looking," she said, smiling with her eyes and proboscis. Her reproductive tentacles twitched around her head. "Is everyone out of danger?"

I nodded.

"What about the prisoners?"

"Only two survived. They're in cold storage."

She squeezed my claw. "We should go out on a date sometime."

"Our reproductive systems are incompatible," I said.

"I know."

She fell asleep.

Pillow finished with her, then consumed a quart of ice cream as her patients rested.

I heard a bump as our ship docked with a larger craft. None of us went anywhere, though, because we were concerned about our patients.

Pillow had a communication device, which contained an electronic bible. David read a few passages aloud, in English and in Wava, the language of the Abreyas, and we sang some songs. Our patients appreciated this, and even sang along a little.

David, Sharad and Thonwa had dinner. I fell asleep.

When I awoke, the two patients were gone, apparently gone into cryogenic stasis already. That left David, Pillow, the baby and my family.

The noise of conversation had awakened me.

"Those tanks have safely transported chimpanzees for months," Weyland was saying. "I don't see why they can't transport your baby."

"He's not a monkey, Mr. Weyland. He's an Abreya child!"

"I understand that, but the physiology and size are similar. There have even been talks about using them for human infants."

Pillow clutched her husband's hand. " _Kadmarre_ , our son should be fine. We only need to make some slight alterations to the fluids."

David nodded. "I hope you're right." He paused. "But what about you? _You're pregnant!"_

She paused. "What about me? I'm _pregnant._ "

"It's been done with pregnant humans," Weyland said. " _We have methods._ "

"We're docked to another ship," I said. "Can I see it?"

Weyland shook his head. "There's a quarantine protocol. I'm actually going to need to go through decontamination before I can get into a pod myself."

Mr. Weyland had built a large room in the bottom of the Highliner to contain my Grandmother during her trip. It looked like a meat locker with a glass door. Gray diamond patterned metal, air conditioner units, large tanks of liquids.

Far from being frightened of Grandmother, Pillow treated her like your average ordinary human hospital patient instead of a Ss'sik'chtokiwij twice her size, lifting plates on her exoskeleton and plugging acid proof tubes into her with a polite friendly manner. She knew exactly where the veins were and everything.

"I have your fluids set up just right," she told her. "You'll just go to sleep for awhile, then we'll be on earth or wherever we're going."

"That's what Ripley told me before I died," Newt muttered darkly.

Grandmother flinched, looking like she were about to panic and bolt out of the chamber. "Is this true?"

" _Grandmother_ ," I said. " _You_ were her cause of death, remember?"

When Ellen Ripley was escaping from planet LV426, she only thought that she had ejected Grandmother into deep space. Hours later, when Ellen and Newt were unconscious in cryogenic sleeping pods, Grandmother had laid an egg in the little girl's chest. She would have gotten Ellen too, had the malfunctioning spaceship not thrown Grandmother into a separate area of the craft and trapped her there until the vehicle crash landed on Fiorina 161.

Grandmother's shoulder plates drooped. "Oh."

The Abreya checked the tanks, stretched out the tubes, examined the pumping equipment.

"Pillow," Grandmother said. "I'm glad I didn't eat you."

Pillow stroked her shell. "I'm glad you didn't either."

David petted her as well.

"Good night, Grandmother," I said.

She rubbed her face plate against mine. "Good night."

Julia gave her a quick nuzzle, but Newt refused.

"Am I so terrible, little one?" Grandmother asked.

Newt didn't reply. No one could blame her. Grandmother had killed the girl's human body. Of course, her new larval body had suffered abuse at the hands of the Ripley woman, so her hostility had been dampened somewhat.

Grandmother sighed.

I thought for sure that Newt would hold that grudge forever, but as we turned to leave the chamber, I heard her muttering, "Good night."

More cryogenic units stood forward from Grandmother's compartment, a vast gray room illuminated by fluorescents and rows of computer screens displaying vitals. The vertical cylindrical tanks stood like pillars along the walls, misty with cold fog. Through the frost, I could see some of the occupants, human popsicles in their underwear. A row of smaller ones lay empty nearby.

Pillow had prepared a tank for me, but I wanted to see my small ones off first, so she set about fixing them up for Newt and Julia.

The experience was novel to Julia. She didn't mind the treatment. "I feel like an astronaut!" she declared cheerfully.

Newt, however, was so terrified that she refused to go in. "That's how I died! I don't want to go through that again!"

"What if you don't die?" I asked. "What if it's perfectly safe and you're worrying about nothing?"

"And what if I'm not?"

I pressed her to my exoskeleton, stroking her shell. "Newt, you saw your mom and dad last time. Wouldn't you want to see them again?"

She coughed and sneezed in sadness. "But what if they don't recognize me? What if I end up like I am now, or even worse?"

I hugged her, kissing her on the dome.

"You must trust God, little one," I said. "` _For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'_ "

Newt trembled. "I don't have a choice, do I?"

"I'm sorry. Humans may get scared if you're running around the ship on your own. It's better to do things their way. We're all going to have to do it eventually."

"All right," she sighed, looking like we had just signed her death warrant.

With that, we put her in the cryogenic chamber.

I think Pillow would be lying if she said she put my larvae in stasis first out of politeness. I'm pretty sure she still worried that it wouldn't work for Nathan.

Still, when the glass tube closed on Newt, she surrendered her child.

Mr. Weyland and one of his medical people adjusted one of the small pods, as per Pillow's specifications, and the child was placed inside.

Little Nathan cried at first, but the parents sang to him, and gently fitted him with the necessary tubes, and soon the pod was closing, enveloping the child in white mist.

Pillow kept her hand pressed to the glass the whole time, her expression betraying feelings of worriment, sadness, even.

"I'm putting my trust in your archaic equipment," she told the man.

"And I'm putting my trust in your undocumented medical expertise," Weyland replied. "Let's hope at least one of us is right."

"I'm putting my trust in _Jesus_ ," David said.

"I am too," Pillow said. " _But if I had to trust something to put our son in suspended animation.._."

David nodded grimly.

The next one to go into cold storage was myself.

At my present stage of maturity, I stood about the same height as a human being. I worried about damaging something with my spiny tail, but both Weyland and Pillow said I had nothing to worry about. It was a little uncomfortable for me when she pulled my plates back and stuck in tubes, but soon everything was set up, and I found myself getting drowsy.

The tube closed around me, and the cold set in.

"Have a good sleep, friend," David said.

They couldn't see my eyes, but sleep eluded me for a few moments, and I had nothing to do but groggily observe the things happening around me.

Having put everyone else alien to bed, so to speak, it was Pillow's turn. Looking pale, she activated the tank nearest the baby, which happened to be between two frozen lab assistants, preparing it for the physiology of a pregnant Abreya.

Weyland glanced at the tanks, then to her. It was clear what he expected.

In addition to Weyland, the Barneses were accompanied by two medical technicians. The Abreya female had an audience.

"Do you have a privacy curtain or something?" David asked Weyland.

"I don't see the point. You'll just end up on display anyway."

"Maybe we can just turn around-"

Before he could complete the sentence, Pillow was pulling off her romper and glittering silver underthings, climbing into the tank.

" _You wore them?_ " David stammered.

Pillow blushed green. "I didn't expect to be in this situation. _I know how you like it when I wear them."_

"I know this won't fix anything, but I'm sorry. About the affair and everything."

She gestured to him with her tail. "Come here."

The two kissed passionately for a moment.

Weyland cleared his throat, impatient.

David pulled away.

"Hua chikalat," Pillow said as she climbed into her tank.

"I love you too."

The tank closed, wreathing the Abreya's figure in white.

We _did_ have to turn around for David. His build was not impressive, and his briefs were not exactly clean, so maybe he had a point. Mr. Weyland, for one, commented that it it `Wasn't something he particularly wanted to see.'

At this point, the chemicals were kicking in. Consciousness escaped my grasp.

The last thing I heard before passing out was Weyland telling one of his staff people, "Once properly indoctrinated, the young ones could be a tremendous help in our war efforts."

When I awoke, it was warm, and I no longer stood in a cryogenic tank.

I had been placed in a concrete cell, one wall made of some durable sort of glass, with a thick metal sliding gate, and a food slot at the bottom.

Beyond the glass, I could see a small observation lounge with a padded bench, a Coke machine, and a computer kiosk. I guessed the place lay underground somewhere. I couldn't see outdoors at all.

Mr. Weyland slouched on the bench, frowning at something on his cel phone.

After watching him do nothing but click buttons for a moment, I groaned and sat up.

"Where am I?" I asked.

"Rosedale Manors."

I frowned at the gray walls, the barren floors.

They had provided me with nothing, no possessions of any sort, like a zoo animal in a cage. Nothing new to me. I had spent the majority of my life in similar cages. What bothered me more was the broken promise.

"I thought you said we'd have houses... _with washing machines_ ," I said.

Mr. Weyland shrugged. _"I lied."_

[0000]

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611602

(Ellie's Journal - Cont'd)

* * *

(End of missing section)

"They put me in sort of a dorm room," David said. "Which might have been okay if the door wasn't locked, and I didn't have armed guards outside. In a way, I guess, this little ghost town is actually an improvement."

I asked him more questions, about his spaceship and what happened to it, about the aliens, and what he did on Fiorina 161. He gave some interesting answers.

"What about you?" he asked.

I told him about everything except the body.

"So there's a fake town outside of this one?"

I shrugged.

"So me and Sarah are supposed to have a sham marriage, so we can live in the deceptive freedom of a fake town."

"What else can you do?" I said with a sigh.

"I'll _tell_ you what," he said. "We break out of here, we rescue my family and friends, we run to the border of Phony Town, and we find ourselves a real life. How's _that_ sound?"

I smirked a little, but I doubted escape was possible. "I'm going to see Morse."

"You're right," he said. "We need as much help as we can get."

The lobby of the hotel was empty. I guessed most people were either upstairs in their rooms with their secrets or poking around the buildings.

When I reached the top of the staircase, I heard a scream.

The sound was coming from Anthony's room. I rushed over that way, but found the door closed and locked.

"What's going on?" Lawrence cried, bolting out of his room.

He tried the door too, but couldn't open it.

"I heard a scream," Amy said behind me.

"It's probably the usual bullshit," Jeff said. "He just discovered that they hang their toilet paper rolls forwards instead of backwards."

"He sounded scared to me," I said. "I think this is serious."

"I don't know. There was this guy in high school...I thought I'd play a funny joke and pretend to wipe boogers on him. He got pretty loud."

Lawrence knocked on his door. "Mr. Garrett?"

No answer.

He knocked again. "Mr. Garrett!"

Still no sound. He shook his head.

"Stand back," Jeff said.

Lawrence rolled his eyes, but humored him.

Unsurprisingly, the man was unable to kick the door down.

"I figured," Lawrence said. "If we weren't able to _get out_ that way..."

"Shut up."

Lawrence pressed his ear to the door for a few moments. "I hear something moving in there."

"He's probably using his blankets to pull a hair out of the drain without touching it."

All of a sudden, we heard the buzz of a security lock, and the door clicked open.

Anthony lay sprawled on the floor, breathing in shallow rapid breaths as he stared at the ceiling. Lawrence knelt by the victim's side, examining him carefully. "Mr. Garrett, are you okay?"

Anthony hyperventilated.

"Mr. Garrett?"

"No I'm okay!" he shouted. "A _thing_ just laid a _turd_ in my throat!"

Jeff burst out laughing.

"That's not funny!" Anthony growled. "I could die! God knows what that thing will do to my body!"

Lawrence pressed a stethoscope to his chest, one I didn't know he had. The patient offered no complaint.

"It _must_ be serious," he muttered as he listened. "He didn't even ask me to sanitize it."

"Who cares," Anthony stammered. _"I'm going to die!"_

"Where did you get the stethoscope, doc?" Jeff asked.

"It was in my secret compartment. Anthony, what did you mean by _a thing laying a turd?_ "

"It was a big pink thing, and it grabbed my face!" he pointed to his closet.

Jeff opened the sliding door. Empty save for a couple pairs of clothing and an opened manhole cover on the back wall. "Nope, no homos in here!"

I peered a little further into the manhole. It was a little difficult to do this in such a darkened location, with no lights I could switch on, but I _did_ find something. A heavy object with slimy flaps. I couldn't pull it out. The texture was indescribable, and in the darkness, I couldn't begin to identify what I touched.

I backed out quickly, wiping my hands on my clothes.

"It's merely a panic attack," Lawrence told the onlookers. "He's perfectly fine. His breathing and pulse are normal. If I had access to pharmaceuticals, I'd prescribe him with some Lorazepam."

"Panic attack!" Anthony cried. "You think that's what this is! A _thing_ crawled on my face and shit in my mouth!"

Lawrence shook his head dismissively. "What you're experiencing is psychosomatic. You fell asleep, had a nightmare, and you're scaring yourself into an irregular heartbeat and hyperventilation."

The assessment seemed reasonable to his audience. They slowly departed, leaving me alone with Lawrence and Anthony.

That's when I noticed the fleshy off-pink finger sticking out from under the bed.

I lifted the corner of the blanket and saw a strange creature. A six legged beast wit a long whip-like tail and a mouth on its stomach. The thing lay sprawled on its back with its limbs curled inward like a spider after a shot of insect spray.

I pointed to the creature. "You think this is what he saw? The thing that _attacked him?_ " I could have said the S word, but I didn't want Lawrence washing my mouth out with soap. It would have been humiliating.

"That's it!" Anthony gasped. "That's it!"

Lawrence sighed. "You're exciting him."

He rubbed the man's shoulder. "Calm down, Mr. Garrett. Just relax and breathe. You're _tired._ "

To my surprise, Anthony actually did. he closed his eyes.

"Now..." Lawrence said. "Let's take a look at your... _creature._ "

He knelt by the bed, staring at the dead thing with a serious expression on his face.

"What do you think it is?" I asked.

"I don't know..." he muttered, running his fingers through his wavy hair. "Could you move these blankets?"

As I pushed them back, I felt a needle stick me in the neck.

"It's no surprise that you're exhausted," he said as I felt my head swimming. " _We've had a very stressful day._ "


	7. Chapter 7: Lacethanny

I awoke in a hotel bed. Noticing that my arm felt funny, I raised it and found actual bandages wrapped around it. I wondered what had been done underneath, but the bandage was applied so expertly that I hesitated to unravel it.

I sat up, and immediately discovered I was still in Anthony's room.

I climbed off the bed, looking underneath for the creature.

In its place, I found only an orange Ernie doll.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I sat down on the carpet, staring at the doll.

"You're the only thing that made me feel better, Ernie," I said. "I couldn't sleep until you came to me in a dream. What should I do?"

The doll transformed from a smiling orange face to the bug creature I saw on the little device, still clad in the same striped shirt. I let go of the doll in fright, backing away.

 _"Share with me your burden,"_ the creature said. _"You can trust me."_

I fled into the bathroom.

Someone had scrawled a message across the foggy mirror.

The bathroom mirror was covered in condensation. Someone had written a message on it.

Ernie is not a puppet, it said.

I wiped the mirror clean, and found an eyeless bug face staring back at me.

When I moved my head, the bug moved its head. I moved my hand, it moved its claw.

Then I looked down and saw that my hand _was_ a claw.

I screamed, and the creature distended its jaw at the same time my mouth opened.

I awoke, dripping with sweat, in my own hotel room. The skeletal hand and the patches remained on the nightstand.

I touched my arm. Even though I'd dreamed the rest of it, my bandage was real.

Glimpsing a curly haired figure next to my bed, I flinched. "Kamara?"

"I heard you _fainted._ You must have been _tired_ , and _stressed out_."

I sat up. "No. No, Lawrence stuck me with something. There was a creature in Anthony's room."

She shook her head, looking worried. "You must have _dreamed_ that. Anthony was yelling, and it must have scared you so much that you fainted."

I stared at her in alarm. Why was she talking to me like this?

"I _know_ what happened, Kamara. _Lawrence drugged me!_ He's covering up something."

"Does this have anything to do with _Ernie?_ " she said in a condescending tone. "Is Lawrence trying to hide your _salvation?_ "

"Shut up," I growled. "You're _in league with him_ , aren't you? You're _working together!_ "

She shrugged. " _We're all working together_ , Ellie. How else are we going to get out of this place?"

"What was in your manhole?" I asked. "What's _your_ secret?"

Instead of answering, she replied, "What's Nostromo?"

"Why should I know?" I said. "I was never an astronaut. Why am I being shown all this stuff?"

"Does the name Ellen Ripley mean anything to you?"

"No. It sounds like the dead girl's name, that's all. There seem to be a lot of Ellens around. You think they're all named after this woman?"

"I don't know," Kamara said. "They _could_ be named after that talk show host..."

I frowned. She had successfully deflected the topic of conversation. "Kamara, why am I not like the others? Why do the other girls belong to that army camp, while I live at home with mom and dad?"

"I don't know. Maybe army camp is what happens to girls like you when they sneak into this place."

I paled.

"It's just an idea. I didn't say it was right."

Still, I shivered. "What time is it?"

She pointed to the fuzz on her arm. "Half past a monkey's ass, a quarter to his-"

I chuckled. " _Fine._ How long was I _out?_ "

"It's been awhile. They're going to be serving dinner soon."

I got up, rushing down the hall to check Anthony's room.

The door was locked.

"He wasn't feeling well," Kamara said behind me. " _He locked himself in his room._ "

"Bullshit," I muttered.

"I'm going to see if there's any food." She turned to leave. "See you at the restaurant."

Thwarted, I marched up to Morse's room, looking in.

The man was sitting on his bed, gazing at the contents of a metal box. When I came in, he closed the lid and put it away.

"Hi," I said.

The man smiled in a friendly way. "Hello."

His face was a visual contradiction. Hard bony features, coupled with an expression that seemed almost gentle. I didn't know whether to trust him or run away.

"David said he knows you from Fiorina 161."

Morse nodded. "He's a better cook than an actor."

So he's honest to a fault, I thought. "Did you really see aliens?"

"Oh yes. There were large bug things, and small ones, a man with a beak, and _Pillow_ , of course. I liked them better than I did the worms. Livened up the place, they did."

"Did you see the creature on that device they found in my room?"

Morse nodded. "I think so. I was looking over someone's shoulder, but I thought I saw _Thwaka._ "

"Is that Ernie's real name?"

"I...I think so. We hardly ever called him Ernie."

"Is he real?"

"Yes."

I sighed in relief. "Do you have any idea why... _someone_ would allow him to contact me?"

Morse only shrugged. "I don't even know why they placed _me_ here. _I suppose being a convicted felon has something to do with it..._ "

I cringed, thinking about how we had more in common than I wanted to admit. "Do you think, er, _Thwaka_...is nearby?...In...this place? Or planet, or whatever?"

"Again, I don't know. They put me in cryogenic freeze and woke me up in a cell. That's all I can tell you."

"So you believe that David has an alien wife."

"Yeah. Though I'm not sure how they're going to have children. Do they just touch their fingers together like on Star Trek? _Or is it something more involved?_ "

I stared at the crossed P symbol on the man's plate, now lying discarded on the floor. "What does that symbol mean?" I said.

"It's the Chi Rho. It's an ancient Christian symbol. There were doors in Fiorina 161 that had a vaguely similar design on them. That's how I knew that plate was mine. _Being that I'm a double Y chromosome killer, I didn't actually expect an exit.._.but it would have been nice."

"What was in your secret compartment?"

"Things I'm not proud of." He left it at that.

"Have you ever killed anyone?" I asked.

Without hesitation, he said, "Several. Yourself?"

I swallowed. I wanted to tell him, but was afraid to. "None."

The look on his face seemed to say that he didn't believe me. A killer _would_ know.

I saw no sympathy in those dark circled eyes, neither did I see judgment. "How old are you?"

"Twelve," I said.

He leaned closer to me. "You're very beautiful. Can I touch your hair?"

I cringed, backing away from him. "No."

I crept to the door, but before I could escape, he grabbed me by the shoulder. " _It never gets any easier, little girl._ No matter what you do, you'll still see their faces when you close your eyes."

He let go.

Trembling and pale, I hurried out to the stairs.

Ding!

My attention snapped to the elevator on the side of the staircase.

I gasped when I saw a small blonde figure stepping out the metal doors.

Lacy! I crouched behind a post, hoping she didn't see me.

The front doors to the hotel swung open, and Kamara came stomping in. "What are you doing!"

She marched up to Lacy, slapping her hard across the face. "You're going to ruin the whole experiment!"

I retreated from their line of sight, inadvertently bumping into Morse as he came down the hallway.

I shuddered as he grabbed my arm.

"Excuse me," I hissed. _"Do you mind!"_

Morse gave me a little smile, like the two of us were having a moment or something.

"Hey! Let go!" I yanked my arm free.

I'd been too noisy. Now both Kamara and Lacy unnerved me with their stares.

The elevator clicked closed.

"So this is an experiment?" I said. "Where does that elevator go to?"

The girls glanced at each other uncomfortably.

"We can't tell you that," Kamara said.

Lacy gave me an anxious smile. "We're still friends, right?"

I sighed in frustration. "Is everyone eating already?"

"Almost."

I returned to `Restaurant.'

"I'm telling you, there was a thing in my closet!" I heard Anthony yelling when I came to the table.

"And I'm telling you you dreamed it!" Lawrence argued. "I saw you _unconscious! On the floor_!"

"Aw, is this about that mouth shitter again?" Jeff said.

"Yes," said Lawrence. " _He's quite obsessed._ It must have been _some nightmare._ "

"It's not a nightmare! That thing was _real!_ "

"Are you sure this isn't some kind of fancy mental institution?" Amy said. "It seems like we're all a little... _dysfunctional..._ "

"Anything's possible," Lawrence said.

"He's lying!" shouted Anthony. "He's lying to all of you!"

I opened my mouth to say something, then closed it again. Lawrence had a neat explanation for what I and Anthony saw, and I had no proof to convince anyone otherwise.

Anthony clutched his chest like he were having a heart attack.

"Calm yourself, Mr. Garrett," Lawrence said. " _You'll have another episode!_ "

Anthony appeared too weak to argue.

I went to the bathroom to collect my thoughts.

Ernie is not a puppet, I thought. That thing, that _creature_ I spoke to... _That_ was Ernie. It was strange, but I actually felt _peaceful_ when I spoke to it. But then the device went off, and with it went the peace.

I _had_ to find him again, but how?

...But what if I can't? What if I blew my only chance?

I wept a little at the thought.

I _have to try!_ I told myself.

Another thought troubled me. Was there an agenda behind allowing Ernie to contact me? If so, what?

How did he contact me to begin with? What kind of technology did they use? A TV station? A recording? Facetime? How did it respond to me? And from where?

Should I really believe that God set all of this up? Am I supposed to wait for God to put me... _wherever_ just so I can contact Ernie again?

I had no answers.

I returned to the table in the midst of another argument, this one between Amy and Jeff.

 _"What is wrong with your wife!"_ I heard her saying. "The last time we met, she yelled at me about how you were her man, and to stay away from you, _as if I even wanted you to begin with_ , and then, as we're shaking hands, she digs her nails into my arm! She needs _help!"_

Jeff chuckled. "I have to admit, she _is_ kind of possessive."

"She's _kind of a bitch!_ If she ever touches me like that again, she's dead!"

"You go ahead and do that," Jeff said. "You'll be _wishing_ you _were_ dead!"

"No thanks," Amy said. "I already got a taste of what it's like being married to you when we were living together."

"Fuck you."

 _"Children!"_ Lawrence scolded. "Let's try to behave like civilized people, so we can figure out how to escape this place!"

"It hasn't worked so far," Jeff muttered, but he still let the argument drop.

The table was set, silverware, napkins, cups, but no food. Anthony lay sunken in his chair, sweating and looking like a man in the grip of a heart attack.

Shelly had her hands folded, head bowed, praying for deliverance, I guessed.

Golic took a butter knife to the wall, carving another one of those creatures with the blade's slight teeth.

I stared at Josh, wondering if he were in the conspiracy with the other kids.

Well, I considered, if he were, he'd know something, and I might get answers if I asked the right way.

"Do you know where we are?"

He shrugged. "Somewhere on earth, I think."

"I think it's an _alien space station_ ," Amy said. "Like in _The Signal_."

She only got blank looks.

"Old movie. The guy was trapped in a desert town they built on a space station. I still can't figure out how they filled the ship up with so much sand..."

" _Or..._ " Jeff said. "It could be an alien _planet..._ "

"I've been wondering about that myself," Morse said as he came in. "I've never seen the other half of Fiorina 161. It wouldn't be a surprise if they merely _moved_ us. _Adding a few new inmates wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility._ "

"What's Finoria?" Jeff asked.

"It's _Fiorina_. It's a prison planet."

"Seems... _plausible_ , all right..."

I felt a chill run down my back. What if this was a prison planet? What if I'd been placed there because of my crime, and they just hadn't told me yet?

"That would explain why Jeff's here," Amy said. "But it doesn't explain me. _Or these kids._ "

"Hey! Why don't you shut the hell up about that!" Jeff shouted.

Amy stood up, raising her voice. "Hey, everybody! _Jeff is a drug pusher!"_

Jeff slammed his fist on the table. "I'll have you know I quit dealing two years ago! You have no fucking right to dredge that shit up!"

"I can do whatever the hell I want. You're not my husband."

"Would you like me to knock those ugly yellow teeth in?"

"Only if I can kick you in your ugly yellow nuts!"

Lawrence cleared his throat. "This is all very edifying, _but if you please..._ "

"If we haven't left Fiorina 161," Golic said as he chipped away at the wall. "Where did the _chicken_ come from?"

" _That can be shipped,_ " Morse said.

"Yes, but who would want to bring shipments to that desolate place? I was given _KFC!_ "

"Perhaps the Weyland company renewed their funding?"

"Wait," said Jeff. "Why the hell did you get to have KFC?"

Instead of answering, Golic said, "The hotel is spotless and clean. The water is pure. It takes months to deliver shipments."

"I saw Canada geese," I said. "Trees. A lake and _fountains_. Why would all that be on an alien planet?"

"Maybe it's a _zoo_ ," Jeff said. "They want to make the habitat as realistic as possible."

"Sounds a little far fetched to me," said Lawrence.

Kamara and Lacy shuffled through the door, Lacy looking glum and defeated, Kamara somewhat angry and sullen. They silently took their places at the table.

"All right, assholes!" David yelled as he burst into the room, throwing a silver picture frame onto the table. "Who did this!"

Everyone stared.

I heard chortles as the frame got passed around. Even I got to look at it.

An ornately engraved wedding frame, the left side displaying a photograph of David, the right bearing a picture of feather pillows. I had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing.

Jeff laughed the loudest, waving the frame around and pointing at it. " _Aren't they a great couple?_ " He shook his head and smiled. "I tell you what. The man _loves_ his bedding!"

"I _knew_ it was you!" David yelled.

He reached into a skirt pocket, pulling out _The Dragons of Eden_ and a book of matches. " _You think that's funny_ , prick?"

He lit the book on fire, sticking it in front of Jeff's nose. "Say goodbye to Mr. Sagan!"

Jeff got up and punched him in the face.

"Suck that, you bible thumping queer!"

David punched him back, forcefully enough to send him sprawling across the table. Silverware and cups fell off.

Amy clapped appreciatively. "About time someone taught you a lesson!"

"Whoa!" Jeff cried, gawking at David. "Whatever happened to turn the other cheek?"

" _It got turned_ ," David growled, raising his fist again.

" _Now David..._ " said Shelly. " _You know what isn't our Lord's way..._ "

David backed off, letting out a deep sigh.

"I didn't make the damned thing, all right?" Jeff groaned as he got up. "How would I get the engraver's tools? Or any of that other shit?...And where the fuck did you get matches?"

"It was in my dresser," David said. "Someone put it there."

"Dude, I want your dress," Amy said. "You have _actual pockets!_ You've _got_ to take me shopping with you sometime."

David rolled his eyes.

"How'd you learn to fight?" Jeff asked. "You look like a sissy, _but you can hit!"_

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," David muttered.

"Does this have something to do with your Pil-"

Instead of finishing the thought, Jeff burst out laughing, pointing to the entrance.

I looked, did a double take.

Sarah had changed outfits. Instead of her usual gray jumpsuit, she now wore the female slave costume from _Return of the Jedi_ , a little sleeveless red thing with a loincloth and curly metal things around the breasts. The only thing needed to complete the look was a funny hairdo.

"Oh God," David groaned. Then, in almost a whisper, _"That's not fair!"_

"Dawib!" the girl called.

David averted his eyes, refusing to reply.

"He's blushing," Amy observed.

"See man?" Jeff said. _"You're perfect for each other!"_

David glared at the table. "I'm still not marrying her. This has to be some kind of trick. They must have dug something out of my private files."

"I think that's on a _few_ people's private files," Lawrence said. "Though I admit it seems strangely specific to you. Did you say something to Sarah?"

"Hell no. You think I sat down with her and said, `I'm married, but you know, _I'm a big Star Wars fan_...'?"

"I wouldn't know what to think, Mr. Barnes. I never met you before."

David sighed and took his seat. "I really, really don't want to be here, but, _wouldn't you know it, I skipped lunch._ "

Sarah smiled and sat down next to him. David shrank from her, refusing to look that way at all. "They know me too well."

"You're a lucky man," Jeff said. "Not every woman is interested in cosplay. _Or_ crossdressing!"

David grumbled something, but didn't vocalize.

The burning book had been extinguished. Lawrence held the matches in his hand, turning the package over in his fingers. I supposed he had convinced the others that there was a better use for it than lighting up their cigarettes.

Our non-English speaking waiters came out with the usual covered dishes. Unlike before, I saw no steam rising out of them whatsoever.

The first dish they placed before David. Once again, it contained nothing but the discarded ring. David gave our servers the finger.

The second one they uncovered in front of me.

All it contained was a white card with the word `Enjoy' written across it in a fancy script.

Jeff got the same thing. "What the fuck is this?"

Everyone else got the same card, except for Sarah. Hers contained silken lingerie. She held the items to her chest, flushing with pleasure.

The staff people turned to go.

"Excuse me!" Shelly called. "Where's the food?"

The man responded in Hindi, then bowed slightly, departing through the door. His companion followed.

"I'm sure there's an explanation for this," Lawrence said. "Maybe something got burned and they're currently working on our meals. Give them about ten minutes."

We waited.

None of us had a watch, but it seemed like an awfully long time.

"All right," Lawrence said, standing up. _"It's been a lovely dinner, but I think I'll be turning in."_

A second later, the male waiter came out. He brought no carts or trays or plates, only a card, which he dropped neatly into the center of the table. A moment later, he was gone.

Shelly leaned forward, reading it aloud.

"`This wedding feast is brought to you by David Barnes.' Is this some kind of joke?"

Lawrence absently flicked his card. _"If it is, I'm definitely not laughing."_

"Where's the food?"

"I think you're missing the point," Amy said. "We don't get to eat unless these nut jobs get married."

"So we _starve_ until this asshole marries his girlfriend."

 _"I believe that's an accurate assessment of the present situation."_

"Yum," Josh said as he frowned at his empty plate. "I love Neverfood."

 _"I can fast,"_ David muttered. "I already had nothing for lunch. _Helps me keep my girlish figure._ " He sighed. "Christ fasted in the wilderness forty days. I should be all right, if I don't have to exert myself."

The others scowled at him.

"I don't care," Anthony said. "I'm too sick to eat anything."

"I wish I could prescribe something for you," said Lawrence. _"You definitely need a relaxant."_

"Why don't you inject him with a knockout drug like you did me?" I asked.

"What knockout drug?"

I reddened in anger. "Don't you dare play dumb! You injected me with something that made me pass out!"

 _"You had a nightmare,"_ he said dismissively. "It's probably a metaphor for your fears about me. I don't have any drugs."

"We could definitely use some!" Jeff said. "While we're drugging Ant, we could drug Barnes and put a ring on his finger so we can eat!"

"I already have a wife," David said.

"We got it. You love your bed and your hand, so you had a picture framed. But now you've got a _real woman_ here that loves you, enough to _dress up_ , so stop being a sissy bitch and marry her already."

"You want me to come over there and _show you how much a sissy I am?_ " David challenged. "I thought we had that pretty well ironed out, but we can give it another go."

"Any time, faggot."

"David," Shelly scolded. "You _are_ a Christian..."

David clenched and unclenched his fists, saying strange sounding words under his breath. Alien cuss words, perhaps.

"I saw an alien," I said. "It was on a device in my room. David's telling the truth."

Morse and Golic agreed with me, but Lawrence said, "I know what you're talking about, but it's not real. _It was only a fancy digital puppet show._ I think they're testing a prototype for children's television."

"I _spoke_ to it," I said. "And it spoke back."

 _"Interactive programs exist._ A couple weeks ago, I watched a _horror movie_ where I shouted at a woman to stay away from the coffin int he back of the room, and she did what I asked."

I sighed in frustration. The man was obviously lying, but I had nothing to prove my case.

I settled for looking Mr. Barnes in the eyes and saying, "I believe you."

He gave me a slight smile. "Thanks, kid."

"Little girl," Jeff said. "Don't suck him off. Leave that job to his new wife. God knows she needs it."

I bristled at the insult, but kept my mouth shut, not wanting to get involved in his game.

"I'd say go to hell," David said. "But I'm sure you'll make it there eventually."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"We've already established we're already there," said Amy.

"Look, Barnes," Jeff said. "I don't give a flying fuck if you starve to death, but _there are other people to consider!_ "

David idly twisted a knife into the table. " _It's only one meal._ I've missed _two_. _You'll live._ "

"I don't like your attitude."

"Tough."

Jeff opened his mouth to say something else, but David beat him to the punch. "Do I get all up in your business? Do I tell you to ditch _your_ imaginary wife?"

"You _made_ it my business the moment someone kidnapped me and told me I couldn't eat until your sorry ass got married!" He paused, taken aback. "How did you know I was married?"

David crossed his arms triumphantly. " _Are_ you? Or is it really just your _hand_?"

"The fuck?"

"You're wearing a _ring_ , dumbass," Amy said.

"Where's _your_ ring?" Jeff challenged. "You're supposedly married to this... _alien_ , so where's your damn ring to prove it?"

"They took it," David said.

Jeff gave his head a dismissive shake. " _Sure_ they did."

"You're making a crack about me, and _I'm_ supposed to believe that _you_ had one?

He balled his hands into fists. " _Your attitude stinks, Barnes._ "

"Do you think I give a shit what you don't like?"

Jeff's face turned a scarlet color. "In case you didn't notice, Barnes, _this isn't just about you_. Regardless of what you think about this wedding, your decision affects everyone in this room, including these innocent kids, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let some self righteous queer in a dress force me to go hungry!"

"The decision is out of my hands," David said.

"Bullshit!" Jeff yelled. "Look! It's just a fucking _ring_. You say `I do', and then you sleep with her, or you don't. Not my business, either way, but _get it done! You make a sacrifice for the greater good, we get to eat, maybe we all get out of here._ You want...to have your other quote-unquote `wife', fine. Be a bigamist. Mormons do it. I don't care, _but think about other people for a change._ "

"I am," David said coldly. He walked out.

Shelly followed him, with Sarah trailing her. I decided to join them.

While we had been inside, `eating Neverfood', someone had been setting things up around the gazebo.

Folding chairs.

Balloons.

Buffet tables. No food, of course.

A wedding arch.

David grabbed a chair, violently beating the arch with it, ivy leaves and flowers flying everywhere. He kicked the thing over, stomping it a few times for good measure, then leaned on the gazebo like a turnbuckle at a boxing ring.

A few minutes later, Shelly approached, and they had a calm but serious conversation.

Whatever they talked about, David agreed to, and she left him sitting glumly on the gazebo steps.

When Sarah came up that way, he rose to leave, but I ran up to him and blurted, "Wait!"

He sighed and rubbed my head. "You're a good kid. I'm glad at least one person here has my back."

"Any ideas about how we can get out of here?" I asked.

"Other than nuptials?" He laughed. "Not really. Maybe we should look around the place more carefully and see if we can find something."

We looked in the corner of our enclosure, at the old western sheriff's station. The door was locked, the windows unbreakable, even with chairs and a rock. I could see a desk and guns and a computer inside, but it did us no good.

"If only we had a bobby pin," David mused.

Trees and concrete surrounded the building. The waslls were the industrial kind, like a Jersey barrier. You couldn't just locate a chink in the surface or loose brick and dig your way out.

The trees didn't clear the walls, and they had been carefully trimmed so that no branch came near the concrete. Even then, if you could somehow successfully jump over, you'd lacerate yourself on razor wire.

The wall continued around the back of the building. I pointed to a section spray stenciled with a laughing crow across a section. "Does that mean anything to you?"

"It's a design from a Milton Bradley's Rook," David muttered. "Other than that, no. We already know this place is someone's sick game. No need to rub it in."

The wall took us around the back of all the buildings, buildings that had no back windows or doors. The concrete continued in an unbroken continuous line all the way to the automatic cannons.

"What's the deal with the bandages?" David asked me as we reached the area.

"Something's wrong with me. I feel fine, but it looks bad. I've heard that if anyone sees, I'll disappear."

He gave me an expectant stare. "I think we're already past that stage."

"I can't. I...I'm hoping the skin will grow back."

"A _peek_ , then?"

I nodded.

David took my arm, lifted the corner of the bandage, frowned and let go.

The houses around gun alley had no windows, doors, or gaps below which to crawl out. Their walls were smooth and tall, making them hard to climb over, and they had razor wire running along their rooftops.

I showed David where the guns were.

"If only we could get up on those houses," David muttered. "We might be able to jump the razor wire. _You think if I gave you a boost...?"_

" _I don't know..._ " I stammered.

Despite my protests, he lifted me up on his shoulders, and I was looking at the siding a few yards below the roof.

The house was a one story building, but it was a _tall_ story.

I planted my hands against the wall for support, and found my palms slightly sticking. "I'm going to try something. Catch me if I fall down."

"I got you, little sister," he said.

Little sister. The thought made me smile.

Digging my nails into whatever slight crack I could find in the flat surface, and pressing my palms down whenever I struggled, I somehow reached the roof and climbed over the lip, standing on the black shingles.

David broke out in shouts and applause. "Great job, Spiderwoman! You kick ass!"

I looked around in dazed bewilderment, still not believing what I just did.

The shingles felt like solid steel, too hard and thick to stomp through.

The roofs were one continuous piece, with no gaps to exploit. You could easily walk to the roof of the post office. From my vantage point, beyond the razor wire, I could see an empty weed filled property, another prefab house, and thick copses of trees I couldn't see through. In the far distance I glimpsed rock walls and a tall gray building with a smokestack, but that was about all I could make out.

If I kept going in the direction opposite the post office, the houses eventually stopped, and I would need a long jump to clear in order to reach the nearest tree. If I missed, I'd probably get shot. Even if I didn't miss, it was possible the guns could still fire at me from the ground.

Hearing David shouting angrily, I looked down and saw Sarah running away from him, sobbing. I could guess what that was about.

I saw no chimneys or air conditioners or those black bubble things people sometimes put on rooftops, only a few pipes that I couldn't do anything with.

Then I noticed something stranger, an orange Ernie doll, buckled to a rounded silver box that looked like an exhaust vent.

"What do you see up there?" David called.

"I don't know." I grabbed the doll.

Unexpectedly, the metal box came open, and I was looking into a mini refrigerator containing a single item: a blue lunch box.

The box held a single slice of pizza, generously large, but only enough to make one person full.

My mouth watered when I saw it. I briefly considered taking a bite, but then I thought about how David hadn't eaten for two meals.

"I'm going to throw something down!" I shouted.

"What?"

I leaned over the side, and he came running, opening his arms to catch me, I suppose. I threw him the lunch.

He opened it, stared in surprise. "Praise Jesus."

David set it aside and looked up at me. "Come down! We'll _share_ it!"

The man was too nice. It broke my heart.

"Keep it!" I said. "You need it more than me. I'm going to see if I can find a way out!"

"Be careful!"

I paced up and down the rooftops, trying to figure out a way to squeeze through the wire without getting cut.

I probably could have, had they not double reinforced it with more razor wire.

As I passed a pipe, an entire section of shingles burst open, and I got sprayed in the face with green gas. I fell unconscious in seconds.

I awoke in my hotel room again, this with David sitting on the foot of my bed.

"You fell off the roof. You're lucky I caught you."

I sighed. "How was the pizza?"

"Delicious. It wasn't drugged or poisoned or anything. It was just cold...and a little stale."

"Well that's good."

I furrowed my brow. "It was in a refrigerator and everything. Why would they even put that up there?"

David laughed. "Maybe it was for the roofer, and you stole his lunch."

I gave him a look that said `really.'

His mirth disappeared. "You know what I think? I think someone intentionally placed that lunch up there for you to find. Somehow they _knew_ you'd be able to climb to the top, so they gave you a little treat for your effort. It's like they're saying `Jump through the hoop, girl! Good doggy! Now here's a biscuit.'"

That was exactly what it felt like. My stomach sank as I considered the implications.

David squeezed my hand. "Thank you anyway. I really appreciated it...I didn't want to, but I gave half of my slice to Sarah." He rolled his eyes. "She's pregnant because of me. I have to take responsibility somehow. I almost gave her the whole slice, but I'm not _that_ good."

"I'm sure that's what _they_ want," I said.

"Screw them. I want to do what _God_ wants."

"Is her baby going to die? For lack of food?"

David stared sadly at the carpet. "I can't imagine that happening. It would be too inconvenient for them. The moment this pregnancy starts going south, I _guarantee_ they'll stuff her like a Christmas goose, just to keep me on the hook."

"What time is it?" I asked.

"I don't know. Morning."

"What do you think they'll serve us for breakfast?"

"I don't know. _Leftovers?_ "

I took a shower, to wash away the grit from the previous day.

When I came out, I wiped steam off the mirror and stared at my reflection, comparing it to the photograph of the curly haired woman.

`You could easily be her daughter,' Morse had said.

I never did look like mom.

David was basically correct about the `leftovers'. Although our mouths watered at the smells of pancakes, bacon and eggs, our servers quickly dashed our hopes by uncovering a little machine that produced food fragrances. That was our `meal.'

David got the ring, and Sarah got a pair of white satin pumps. Everyone else got wedding invitations, with pictures of interlocking rings on them, the interior reading, "You are cordially invited to the wedding of David Barnes and Sarah Jones." No time or date was listed.

A new card replaced the one they set out for us the evening before. `This wedding brunch is brought to you by David Barnes,' it read.

Just about everyone was glaring at David, everyone except me, Golic, Morse and Anthony.

Jeff immediately yanked David out of his chair, shoving him into a wall. "Enough of your shit, Barnes! You're going to tie the knot, or I'm going to twist your neck into one!"

David reached over the fists that held him by the collar, clamping his hand down on one. He then poked Jeff in the eyes and kneed him in the crotch, pushing the man away.

 _"Self defense,"_ he explained to Shelly, darting away.

"Bastard!" Jeff yelled. "I'll get you for that!"

Jeff still had his vision, so a moment later, he had a knife in his hands, coming after Mr. Barnes.

I stepped in his way. "Don't."

"Out of my way you little shit! This isn't your fight!"

"It is now!" I said.

He kicked me hard enough to send me to the floor.

" _Nice_ , Jeff," Amy remarked. "Beating up a little girl."

"You stay out of it, bitch!"

"I can see now why your wife is the way she is!"

"Shut the fuck up, Amy!"

Amy got out of her chair, glowering at him. "I don't have to do anything. You're not my husband. We've been _over_ for a long time!"

Jeff raised a hand to slap her, and probably would have, had Anthony not suddenly let out a bloodcurdling shriek, clutching his chest.

Jeff lowered his hand. "The fuck?"

Amy slapped Jeff across the face, but before he could reply in kind, Mr. Garrett screamed and fell backwards in his chair, crashing to the floor.

Lawrence rushed to Anthony's side, checking his vitals. He pressed a stethoscope under the man's shirt, frowned, held Mr. Garrett's thrashing arms down.

"He's having an epileptic fit," he said for everyone's benefit.

"Is that anything like his _panic attack_ yesterday?" I asked.

You can feel pure hatred, even if the other party says nothing, and you're not looking in their eyes. I felt it in the silence, as I watched his back stiffen.

Lawrence dragged Anthony to an open spot on the floor, loosening his clothing.

We all gathered around the patient, staring in concern.

"It doesn't look like an epileptic fit to me," Shelly said.

She was right. His limbs hadn't been thrashing that much, and he didn't foam at the mouth. Mostly he'd been screaming.

"Then he's having a _psychological disturbance_ ," Lawrence said. "Mental anguish, expressing itself through his neurological system. Physically there's nothing wrong with him. His heart and lungs are healthy. I'd need an X-ray to see if there's anything else wrong with him, but I assure you-"

Anthony screamed, cutting him off.

A second later, I saw something violently tent up the middle of his shirt, dampening the black material. The victim spat up blood and died.

"What the hell was that?" Jeff cried.

"I have an _inkling_ ," David muttered.

Feeling something tugging on my pant leg, I looked down and shuddered.

It was some sort of sausage shaped hard shelled insect, covered in blood, with a long tail.

The thing sniffed me a few times, butted its head against my shin, then appeared to stare at me in puzzlement.

"Jesus Christ!" Jeff cried. "Did that thing just come out of his body?"

"I thought you said this was a panic attack," Amy said.

Lawrence looked embarrassed. "Well, it was. _That_ was the source of his panic."

"Are you _sure_ you're a real doctor?"

 _"I was the last time I checked."_

Amy just gave him a dirty look.

Kamara took one look and screamed at the top of her lungs.

"Nobody told me about _this_!" Lacy muttered.

The creature sniffed me a couple times, then jumped on Lacy, boring a hole through her sternum. She collapsed bleeding to the floor.

Everyone got scared and backed toward the opposite wall. Except me, David, Lawrence and Sarah.

"Lacy!" I screamed, running to her.

My friend was spitting up blood, but still looked aware of what was going on. As she lay dying on the carpet, she reached up and caressed my cheek, smiling as she looked into my eyes.

She gurgled something, and her eyes froze, her hand dropping limply to her side. My eyes welled with tears.

The creature tunneled back out of my friend's chest, seeming to look right at me though it had no visible eyes.

 _"What are you?"_ it asked me.

Not exactly wanting to acknowledge that it had just spoken, I only said, "What?"

" _What_ are you?"

"I'm me," I said. "I'm Ellie."

"That isn't what I asked."

"Oh my God," Shelly said. "The stories are true! I always knew it wasn't a toxic chemical or a disease that wiped out everyone on the Nostromo, but nobody believed me!"

"What else did you hear?" Lawrence asked with a suspicious edge to his voice.

"Besides that? _Nothing much._ It's just, you see, I have a _Jewish friend_ who lives in _Palestine_ , and he claims that he saw creatures very similar to that one attack and kill a couple Mossad agents at an army base. At first, I didn't believe him. I _thought he was pulling my leg._ "

"Maybe that's why you're in here," David muttered. _"You heard something you weren't supposed to."_

She swallowed. "I somehow don't think that's it. You see, a couple weeks ago, I _accidentally took home someone else's laptop,_ and it had some confidential stuff in it. _I'm not saying I actually looked at the highly private and confidential stuff,_ but I think someone wasn't too happy about it. I _did try_ to return it..."

Nobody had run away yet, as the creature hadn't left the victim.

Golic knelt on the floor, bowing low before it. "My Lord! It is good of you to be here!"

The creature shook its head, as if in disgust.

We gawked as it slowly devoured my friend's body.

Shelly patted me on the back. "I know how you feel. _The same exact thing happened to my grandmother._ "

I stared at her in astonished disbelief. "Really?"

" _I'm sorry for your loss,_ " she continued.

That's bullshit," Jeff said. "I don't even _know_ your grandmother, and I can tell you for a fact that you're pulling that out of your ass!"

Shelly looked embarrassed, but didn't apologize. Instead, she kept going with it. "I _didn't say_ this same exact thing happened to my grandmother, I said _she went through something like it_."

"Actually, _you did_ ," Jeff said.

Shelly appeared to feign deafness. "Huh?"

"Forget it. It's becoming increasingly clear that this is some fucked up funny farm."

Jeff had one of those dull knives from the table clutched in his fist, looming over me in a way that seemed almost threatening. "Out of the way, little girl. I'll take care of it."

Still overwhelmed by my friend's death, I staggered back.

As Jeff lunged forward, the creature burrowed itself deeper inside Lacy's rib cage. I'm certain the man would have been victim number three had Sarah not stepped in front of him.

"Leth me dok do err. Pleeth."

"Step aside," Jeff ordered. "If the people that run this looney bin aren't going to control their animals, _I will!_ "

David stepped in from the left, scowling at him. "Let her do her thing. She'll be fine. She's done this before."

Jeff lowered his knife. "Done...what?"

Sarah knelt by the body, peering into the hole. "Hello!" she said in a very friendly way. "My name is Sarah! Would you like to have a name?"

Her voice sounded strange as she said this, and oddly distinct, with no lisping at all.

I thought she was speaking English until I heard Josh muttering, "What's that, a snake impression?"

"I think she's talking to it," Amy said.

Lawrence nervously edged around my friend's corpse. "Those don't sound like words to me."

I gasped as the creature emerged from the wound, like a cobra before an Indian flute.

"You will give me a name?" it asked.

Sarah nodded.

"What's it saying?" said David.

"It wants a name."

"Oh my God!" Amy giggled. _"She's a Parseltongue!"_

She got some confused stares.

"It's from _Harry Potter_. _Don't you guys know anything?"_

"Call it Curly," Jeff suggested. "Or Shemp. Now _there's_ a good one!"

"We should give it a biblical name," David said. "To honor Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik."

"I don't know if you've noticed this, asshole, but this is a fucking chest bursting bug, not a damn baby! Let's get this shit over with. Tell the little motherfucker to lay down so I can cut off its head!"

After seeing the thing kill Lacy, as suspicious as my friend had been, I was inclined to agree with him.

David sighed. "He's got a point, Sarah."

"No!" she protested. "Don kiwwid!"

David put a hand on her shoulder. " _Pill_ , I mean, Sarah. _Sarah_ , that Ss'sik'chtokiwij needs to be _tamed_ before we do anything with it. It's not safe."

She gave him a solemn nod.

Sarah stared at the creature with a serious expression. "Show me your secret tongue."

The creature opened its mouth, and something like tapeworms came out.

Without the slightest hesitation, Sarah brought the thing up to her face. "Share minds with me."

The worms entered her nostrils, and she spread herself out on the floor, with the creature curling up on her revealing outfit.

The two lay like this for a long time, silently twitching at odd moments.

Sarah had given no thought to how her costume fell as she did this. The woman looked as undignified as a child in a church dress slouching on a playground.

"What are they doing?" Amy asked.

"They're sharing minds," David explained. "It helps them feel empathy for us."

The creature _was_ whimpering, which seemed to be a good sign.

"You sure?" Jeff asked. "You certain it's not eating her brain?"

"That's just how the link minds. It's harmless."

"And you say she's done this before." Jeff sounded skeptical.

David nodded. "I've met those creatures before. Two of the small ones, and two larger ones. They were _friends._ "

Jeff backed away from him, staring in silence.

At last he said, "So, did you feed them dead bodies every day, or what?"

David sighed. "We do _this_ so we don't have to."

"So you _have_ given them bodies."

David shook his head. _"They took their own."_

The creature slowly withdrew its tentacles and straightened itself out, craning its head toward David.

"Your female's baby was produced artificially."

"No!" Sarah cried. "Don' dell him dat!"

David staggered backwards, leaning on the table for support.

"Holy shit!" Jeff laughed. "It speaks English!"

"It's not mine!" David breathed. "The baby's not mine!"

" _It's still yours_ ," the creature said.

"Pleeth dond deh him!" Sarah sobbed.

The creature ignored her. "It was implanted without the associated bodily contact."

"So the paternity test wasn't forged." David slumped into a chair. "God. They just grabbed me while I was in cryogenic stasis and stuck a needle in my crotch."

He rubbed his face, staring at the creature. "Why are you telling me this? Why didn't _she_ tell me this?"

"Your female fears abandonment. When you believe that the human larva was implanted naturally, it makes her feel secure. Please marry her."

Sarah gazed at him hopefully.

David just glared at her.

"I'm sorry, no. I need time to think about this."

"Pleeth forgith me, Dawib! I wath afraib!" She got up, wrapped her arms around him, weeping with her face pressed to his chest. "I'm thowwy. Pleeth don'd leeb be! Thorgib me, Dawib!"

David awkwardly patted her on the back, then, when she tried to kiss him, he forced her into a chair. "We need to work on boundaries."

The creature waddled closer to him. "I would like to have a name... _please._ "

"He's a polite little sonofabitch, isn't he?" Jeff remarked.

David considered it for a minute. "You should be named after your victims. It's only fair."

"That's actually a good idea," Jeff said. "It _deserves_ to be named after that weenie."

David cleared his throat. "I dub thee Antonia Lace."

"Lacetonia," Shelly suggsted.

"No," Josh said with tears flowing down his face. "Call it _Lacethanny._ "

"Lacethanny it is," David agreed.

"Lacethanny..." the creature repeated, looking mystified.

It glanced back at Lacy. "May I eat these dead ones? I am sorry for this tragic loss of human life, but I didn't understand what I was doing...and _I'm so hungry._ "

I sobbed a little as I glanced down at my friend's body, giving a slight nod. " _I guess she won't feel anything now anyway..._ "

Lacethanny whimpered. "I'm really really sorry. I didn't ask for any of this to happen. I'll try to do better in the future, I promise."

The restaurant doors swung open, and in stepped mom and dad.

"Ellie!" mom cried, rushing in. "We've been worried sick!"

Lacethanny had disappeared inside my friend's body, so now all they saw were corpses.

"What in God's name happened here? Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine, mom," I said. "It was scary, but we've got it under control. I think."

Dad came up to me immediately after. "Ellie, we need to talk."

I nodded my head vigorously. "Great, dad! Anything!...When can we go home?"

He sighed and put a hand on my shoulder. " _Sweetie pie, that's what I want to talk to you about._ "


	8. Chapter 8: Aunt Pillow

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611501

Personal Diary of Subject 78453760 ("Ernie")

* * *

0000

It was easy for me to be angry at Mr. Weyland. With a brazen disregard for my feelings, he lied and manipulated me into this new prison. No remorse. No sorry. It was like he believed what he did was morally acceptable.

I suppose, since I'm not human, he believed my feelings didn't matter.

"You betrayed me," I said.

"I know."

No apology.

I coughed a little, out of sadness. "Do you also know I have feelings?"

 _"I do_. How else would I have gotten you here?"

"Do you treat other human beings this shamefully?"

He swallowed. "Sometimes."

"You have a terminal illness," I said. "Are you prepared to face your maker, Mr. Weyland?"

"As much as anyone is prepared to die. I'm hoping for some _breakthroughs_ relatively soon, so I can at least add a few more _days_ to my lifespan."

"And if it doesn't work?"

He shrugged. "My foundation has made a number of important discoveries. _I'll be leaving behind a better world."_

I was not impressed, but it seemed pointless to argue.

"You know how your friend Newt appeared to transfer her consciousness to a larval xenomorph...?"

I try very hard to forgive my enemies, especially if they happen to be dying, so I maintained conversation. "I...suppose."

"Have you ever witnessed the reverse?"

"No, can't say that I have. Are you going to put probes in my head?"

I knew I shouldn't have asked, for fear of giving him an idea, but I had to know.

 _"Naturally,"_ he said. "There's so many things we still don't know about how your brains operate."

My shoulder plates sagged. I had just finished healing from the last probe insertions. "Then could you do me a _kindness_ and make the probes _reversible_? So that an enemy cannot take advantage of my weakness by striking the probes? The last researcher that studied me designed it like.. _.the cap on a gas can_ , if that makes any sense to you. It _flipped over to make a protective lid..."_

" _I'll see what I can do_." Not the most comforting thing for a person to say in response to anything.

I asked about my family and friends, but his answers were vague, like "They're fine." All I knew was that they were alive.

"Will I be able to see them sometime?"

His face said no, but his mouth answered, " _We'll see._ "

"Those homes you showed me looked so nice," I moaned. "That was a very cruel trick."

Sighing, the man said, "Look. There are very specific security reasons why I've placed you here, and not in one of our town homes. Plus we want you within convenient distance of our research facilities."

He stood up. "So. That being said, this isn't a prison. It's more like a... _habitat_. If there's anything we can do to make you more comfortable, _anything at all..._ "

"A key to my cell," I said.

He gave me that smirk again. " _Nice try._ _But keep thinking."_

Weyland got up to leave.

"A bible please," I said quickly. "And, if it's not too much trouble, my sewing kit. I'd like to do some cross stitching."

For the first time, I actually saw a smile on his face. I suppose he found this funny.

"I think that can be arranged, but the moment I see you _picking locks_ , your privileges will be revoked."

He left me alone in my cell.

I had literally nothing to do for an entire hour, except think and pray. I fell asleep.

When I awoke, my skull was throbbing, and when I reached up to massage my head, I felt probes sticking out.

I guessed they must have used the chemical they used to knock me out for my space voyage. Otherwise, I probably should have felt something when they operated on me.

The probes didn't appear to be the reversible kind. A new machine had been added to the observation room, probably to monitor my brain.

I whimpered and laid flat on the floor, despondent.

I heard a click, and a tray of raw meat slid into my cell. I frowned in disgust.

I glanced up and saw my server, a squatty overweight woman with short black hair, clad in a lab coat.

Her small nose was stuck in a book, something featuring a barbarian woman in a skimpy outfit.

"What are you reading?" I asked.

She showed me the title: _Adventuress: Weaponmaster of Death!_ I rolled my eyes, but of course she couldn't see that.

"Madam," I said. "I'm not a wild animal. While I _will_ be a sport and _consume_ this food you have set before me, in the future would it be at all possible for you to bring me something more refined?"

She slipped a Snickers bar through the slot. "Happy?"

I purred in amusement. "It's a start."

I ate half the bar, then found myself vomiting.

The woman's eyes got really big, her plump sweaty palms pressing against the glass in a panic. "Oh shit! Oh shit oh shit! Are you all right, Mr. Alien?" Obviously, she feared losing her job.

"Fine," I groaned, wiping my mouth. "It appears...I am... _diabetic._ "

"Could you hand that candy back?" she cried. " _I could get in trouble._ "

"There are _cameras_ ," I said. "It may be too late." But I did what she asked anyway.

She dropped the book into my cell. "It'll give you something to do," she explained.

"Thank you," I said. "My name is Ernie, by the way." I would have told her my Ss'sik'chtokiwij name, but that's too much to expect from a human you barely knew.

She introduced herself as Holli Jones. "Try not to get any blood or vomit on that book, okay?"

I nodded. "I have a great respect for literature. Rest assured, I'll take good care of it."

Whilst my stomach recovered from the chocolate, I wiped my claws and skimmed through _Adventuress_. The back cover told me it was about an escaped slave and her quest for revenge, but a cursory read told me this plot wasn't the primary focus of the book, but rather sexuality. I preferred eating chocolate to reading any further.

Although human reproduction has always intrigued me, this book seemed to have a distorted, perhaps inaccurate view on the subject. I did not find it credible.

Plus I didn't approve of the fornication. The protagonist seemed to be an adventuress in every sense of the word.

I tossed the book into the corner.

"I thought you respected literature," Holli said.

"This isn't literature," I answered. "I'm not sure what this is."

"I have tons of books worse than that."

"What would you think if I wrote a book about a human that goes around shamelessly begging Ss'sik'chtokiwij to lay eggs in her chest?"

Holli grinned. "I'd definitely read it."

Another invisible eyeroll.

"Maybe you should write one," she suggested.

"That would be far too morbid for my tastes."

"Fine," she said. "Are you going to read that sometime, or are you done with it?"

I rubbed my face, staring at the cover image, the nearly naked woman with flowing curly hair and an angry expression, raising a sword in a breathless sexual way.

"Is this something you...enjoy greatly?"

"Of course," she said. "It's my favorite book."

I frowned. "I think I will give it a second chance, but not at this present moment. I'll try again later, hopefully with a fresh perspective."

I started in on my meal.

"Would you like some salt?" Holli asked, holding up some little packets. I nodded, and she dropped them in.

"I got ketchup too, if you want it."

I took that as well, but there's not a lot you can do to fix raw bloody meat without a stove.

When she saw me praying over the food, she laughed and said, "Have you ever heard the joke about the missionary and the lion?"

"Yes," I groaned.

The moment the food was gone, Holli left me, and people in lab coats came in to do tests.

Their first test was making me stare at a Newton's Cradle until I fell asleep.

Once they established that I could get bored, they woke me up and described various things before putting me to sleep with the device again. I think they wanted to affect my dreams.

After this, they read the dictionary to me. Typical brain testing stuff they subjected me to on LV 426. They also read to me the android test they had in _Blade Runner_ , the one about the turtle.

I said, "I've seen that movie, you know."

Someone frowned, and they asked me other paradoxes, like if a tree falls in a forest, does it make a sound.

After a few of those, they asked me those math questions about the train conductor. I tried my best. I even tried scratching parts of the puzzle into the floor, but the concrete was a little too hard and slick to use in this fashion. Eventually I just moaned and laid down on the floor.

They liked that. I guess they wanted to see what I'd do if I got frustrated too.

For reasons unclear to me, a young man of Middle Eastern descent was pushed into the room.

The boy wore a white woven cap, a black t-shirt with an Arabic slogan I couldn't read, and baggy tan trousers. His arms and chest lacked musculature.

He screamed as he stumbled onto the concrete. I think the remains of my dinner did nothing to assuage his fears, for when he got up, he ran and beat his fists against the door, which was now solidly locked.

"Kill him and you can leave," a voice said from the other room.

"How can you ask such a thing of me?" I cried. "What has this boy done to deserve such violence?"

They did not answer.

"I killed Americans," the boy stammered. "I placed explosives on a bus. Children died. Please don't kill me."

"Do you feel remorse for these...deaths?" I asked.

"I should not," he said. "It was for the glory of Allah. The Koran teaches us to purge the infidel from the land. But often I ask myself, why would Allah, blessed be his name, create a man to be destroyed? Or a child?"

He swallowed. "I am sorry for all I did."

"What is your name, child?" I said.

He told me it was Faruk.

I told him "The Lord Jesus forgives you, Faruk. Go and sin no more."

The young man's eyes widened. "They have placed me in this cell with a demon!"

"They once said _Jesus_ had a demon," I said. "But a genuine one made you plant explosives."

He sighed. "And you will not destroy me for this?"

"No," I said. "I have enough murder on my conscience."

"But they promised your freedom."

"The Lord has freed me from sin. Even though I am a prisoner, my heart has been liberated. He forgives you too, if you would just accept him into your life."

He looked uncomfortable.

I asked if I could examine his hat. "I'm learning to sew," I explained.

All of a sudden, Faruk collapsed on the floor, foaming at the mouth. I checked his pulse and found him dead. Upon closer examination I discovered a little device stuck in the back of his neck.

Through the window, I had glimpsed someone pushing a button a second before the boy's collapse. It seemed Faruk had been destined to die, one way or another.

No one came to collect the body. Perhaps someone was observing me, to see what I'd do.

"I suppose this means I can't leave," I said.

No reply. The door remained closed.

I couldn't bury Faruk, or do much else with him, so I just laid him with care by the door.

In the observation booth, I could see the scientists starting the Newton's Cradle again.

They read me a Haiku, but the dream that followed had nothing to do with it.

I was in a hotel room. Curtains. A single bed, a dresser, and a bathroom. The place resembled the `Learning Town' computer simulation they had placed me under on Archeron. I even saw a gazebo out in the main square.

I marched into the bathroom, and saw a message written on the fogged up mirror.

Help me, it said.

When I wiped the mirror, I found myself staring at a twelve or thirteen year old blonde girl with bandaged arms.

[00000]

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000810020257204: "Diary of Pillow Barnes"

(Translated to English from Ixzedle)

The language used here is Ixzedle Wava, a creolized native dialect from Pillow's home region. Although partially deciphered by staff linguistic experts, it is Pillow Barnes herself who provides the complete translation.

[000000]

* * *

Once again, I awoke to a bed dampened by _gigrizo_. Damn that husband of mine! Even when I sleep, my thoughts are not free of him.

I shuddered at the thought of those humans collecting another sample. Gigrizo is nothing but an embarrassing genital secretion. Why can't they leave me alone?

Why can't they bring back my husband to me? Dammit, I miss him.

My previous boyfriend Glombo was actually my species, the father of my first child, but do I think about him? No, I think of this ridiculous human, who had to buy a _device_ just to impregnate me. It was _he_ who knew how to find my pleasure _giezfa_ during lovemaking. _Him_ , not Glombo. David claimed he found it by accident, but he always seemed to know where it was.

I wanted to hate him. He slept with that simpleton from LV 426. _Got her pregnant_ , in fact. But did I hate him? No. I lie awake at night, reciting religious texts and things from med school to myself, to forget how good it felt to have his fingers caressing my pelt, to stop the tentacles between my legs from moving.

It worked sometimes.

Sometimes.

The organization moved me to a cell on the second floor of the western annex of building one. I no longer got to see David, or Sarah, the human I've grown to love as a sister, despite what she's done, or those men we knew from Fiorina 161, but at least the amenities were better.

Who am I kidding? Even Alcatraz would be Chisda on earth if I could be there with the ones I love!

My cell, my _room_ , had a bed with big pillows and puffy comforters. I had TV with several interesting channels, a computer with internet access (half my messages don't go through - I think I was being monitored), a library catalog ordering system, and, strangest of all, a miniature doctor's office, with enough supplies to stock my own practice.

Currently the walls were a bland beige color. One wall featured a framed reproduction of Manet's _Bar at Folies Bergere_ , another a painting of ducks, then Van Gogh's _Night Cafe_. I didn't select any of these pictures.

The only one I picked was attached to the ceiling, above my bed. A framed behind the scenes photograph of Carrie Fisher playfully kissing the Chewbacca actor in costume. She literally `Kissed a Wookiee'.

David once showed me the picture as a joke. "If this symbolizes our relationship," he said. "Would you think me less of a man if I said I picture myself as Leia?"

"Are you saying I'm a Wookiee?" I had asked.

"There's no other Wookiee I'd rather kiss," he said. "Passionately, I might add."

I replied, _"I think I can live with that."_

"Well..." He pulled me close. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You _do_ like how I look in a skirt!"

Human and alien, together in love. To anyone else, it was just a picture of two actors clowning around.

I had a pot of artificial flowers on my dresser.

I had a phone like they have in hotels.

I could call emergency services in case of fire. I could order a pizza. I could call a plumber, or a guy to replace my light bulbs.

The menu gave me the option to order from a list of several alcoholic beverages.

There was an interior decorator.

If I wanted to remodel my room to look like a set from the movie _Hugo_ , I could.

I could order anything from a local warehouse. It's like Amazon.

I could build a bomb if I wanted to.

I could do anything.

I could even _leave_ if I wanted to.

I'd only have to give up my baby, and turn my back on everyone I love.

Of course, they had _cameras_ , and a tracking chip in my neck...

I have an alarm clock. Not because I had a schedule, but because I had a lot of things to do. My day starts at seven A.M.

Four A.M. I was awake because, you know, _the sheets_. Someone would come in around eight to carry them down to some lab to be analyzed.

My shower appeared to have been built to wash gorillas. High pressure sprayers hit me from all sides. They told me the suds that come out during the first cycle were a reformulation of soaps used to gently clean petroleum off of waterfowl.

The first soap they tried, a dog shampoo apparently, caused me to break out in a rash. The very next day, I found a little wrapped present, and a card on my desk that said, `We're very sorry about the soap. It has now been replaced with something more hypoallergenic.'

Included was a little brochure included, explaining the thing about washing animals caught in oil spills.

The card continued:

`Please accept this gift with our sincerest apologies.

-M.W.'

I unwrapped the package and found a little computer inside.

It wasn't much of a computer, just something with a power button, a couple volume controls and an arrow keypad. I wasn't impressed, but I played with it anyway.

The first thing I saw was camera footage of my infant son Nathan in one of those plastic hospital cribs they use for newborns. A nurse fed him from a bottle. The pastel pink coloration of the milk told me they were using _my_ milk, which I had previously collected with one of those barbaric `breast pumps'.

They were keeping him alive, all right, but would he know love?

The nurse picked him up as she nursed him with the bottle.

He couldn't even see me.

Would he learn to call _her_ mother?

Feeling I could take no more, I tested the arrow buttons.

The next camera looked into a small room containing my adopted daughter, Sharad. She sat in a little dorm room, playing a video game, her eye tentacles pointed at the screen. Some kind of bloody action game involving soldiers and zombies.

My husband could probably identify what game it was. He'd probably say it was harmless because he played worse things when he was a kid.

On the other hand, I couldn't help but wonder what Sharad's parents felt about it. They abhorred violence.

The third camera view I could access was of my egg in an incubator. Nothing had changed. It appeared to be unharmed.

I pushed the button, and it went back to Nathan. For some reason, they chose not to show me David or Sarah or anyone else I cared about. Yes, I _did_ care about Sarah. She was still mentally a child, and I knew something about what she went through.

I checked the device every day. At the moment, my children were all in bed, I guess due to picking up human sleeping habits. By all rights, at least one of them _should_ have been awake, needing rest only at the forty eighth hour. It's bad lucks for siblings to match sleep.

I bathed.

The drain in my shower looked strange. Due to the excess hair in my body, they couldn't use regular plumbing fixtures. They could have put in a simple sort of garbage disposal, but I had spent a few minutes examining it, and the machinery didn't shred, it _collected_.

There was a type of _sieve_ set up in the drain, one that collected _solids_. I couldn't tell where the liquid went, but I guessed it didn't go down the sewer, either. Sometimes, when it got full of solids, I saw the lid sliding over the top part, and when the lid reopened, the solids were gone.

There was a camera in my shower, of course.

I had been given a fairly good wardrobe. My closet contained outfits from my ship, plus some earthly things that suited my body shape, different colored scrubs, an old timey _nurse's dress_ , a pink party dress, a floral print gown, a nun's outfit...I think they were spoiling me due to my advanced medical knowledge.

I decided to try the rock star look today, for the children I'd be meeting. I put on a cheetah print tank top and a pair of Beetlejuice style black and white leggings. They must have doubted I wanted them, for the card inside the pants said I could use the catalog and order anything I wanted.

Egg warming times were at nine A.M. and six P.M. The security locks in the basement only accept my badge at those hours. I could access my egg, and my egg only. I did not know where my other two children were being kept.

Four A.M. I made myself some coffee and turned on the TV, clicking through channels. _Green Acres, Fast and The Furious Five_ , some show where a fat guy interviewed cooks at a greasy spoon, infomercials and some coded military channels.

I saw a cringe-worthy commercial about a contour massage pillow where they repeated the word `pillow' a dozen times. David would have laughed.

Then came a clip of Captain Kirk holding a dead female alien in his arms. I nearly choked on my coffee, crying and coughing at the same time, over stupid _Star Trek_.

David.

I shut off the TV and turned on the radio, one of those satellite radio systems. Happily, they _had_ a gospel station.

I stuffed a leather rucksack with various supplies for my day, the sacred Gaxea, the bible, a few interesting books provided by my host, _Alice in Wonderland, Wind in the Willows, Sideways Stories from Wayside School,_ several medical items, an owl Beanie Baby, some cookies, and dental floss, among other things.

I could open my cell any time I wanted, with a swipe of my badge.

Even at four A.M., I had friends I could visit.

For starters, the _beings_ on my floor. My cell was one of many on 2N. It's a regular carnival sideshow. If I chose, I could do my rounds then, but it wasn't even time for breakfast yet.

My neighbors were a man with a terminal illness named Eric, and a room with a floating skull, which I'll explain a little later.

My room stood at the bend of a hallway. Across from me was Julia's old cell. She got taken somewhere else, I wasn't sure where. She held the corner cell, next to the magician.

The cell next to the skull was vacant. I had friends around the corner, but again, too early.

The walls were solid concrete, smooth and gray, with a broad beige stripe running horizontal all the way around, vaguely hospital-like.

An elevator took me down a floor, to the children in the main complex.

Our building was essentially a hospital. I could see the lake and trees from the break room and the nurse's station. The children were kept in rows of locked wards, monitored by a closed circuit camera system at the station.

Every single room contained a girl named Sarah. Blonde, blue eyed, roughly twelve years old. They served as guinea pigs for various tests. My coworker Stefani told me about them a few days ago, and now I couldn't leave them alone.

I swiped my badge at Ward 100.

Every ward looked the same. Hospital bed, privacy curtain, bathroom, feeding tray, framed reproductions of Van Gogh's _Starry Night_ , a numbered composition by Mondrian, _Sunday on La Grande Jatte_.

The child only appeared to be sleeping. The moment the door clicked open, she sat up and threw her covers back. "Aunt Pillow!"

She'd only been excitedly feigning sleep, like children do on Christmas Eve. I'm not sure how she knew I'd be showing up at that hour. Maybe her illness kept her up. Maybe I made too much noise. I don't know.

I gave the girl a hug, though it made me sad. I should be hugging my own child, not this cloned stranger.

I've been praying about this. A lot. Jesus calls me to love my _neighbor_ , not just family and friends. Jesus loved everyone so much that he sweat blood, and, of course, you expand your ability to love by practicing it.

Still, if my son ever found out how unequally he'd been treated...

Sarah pointed at my outfit and giggled. "Are you a punk rocker?"

I grinned. " _Why yes I am."_

"Can I play with your tail?" she asked.

I shrugged, presenting my appendage to her.

She ran her hands along it, yanked it in a slightly annoying way. "Did you come up with an alien name for me yet?"

I nodded. "Okusfab. It's...a sort of wild monkey."

Sarah pursed her lips in a pout. "Don't be mean."

"They're very cute," I said quickly. "They have eyestalks and they're always grabbing Abreya tails. They're very excitable, and can climb _anywhere_ , get into _anything._ Some female Abreyas are named Okusfab simply because they're so clever and mischievous."

Stefani said we had strict instructions not to tell these girls that they had twins in the building. She said we'd lose visiting privileges if we broke the rule. We also couldn't tell them that their `mothers' were all androids.

Each child had the same name, differentiated only by number. I couldn't tell them apart, and plus they kept reminding me of the grown woman, also a clone, who carried my husband's baby. My solution to the problem was giving them creative Wava names and jotting them down in a notebook.

Officially, it meant they had last names. Memorable ones, and I could freely speak to them about other Sarahs, as long as I used their `last name' only. Sometimes, I would invent a first name, just to step around policy.

"Is Ms. Vecfemo doing any better?" This Sarah asked me.

Vecfemo was the Sarah next door to her, bald from chemotherapy. The Sarah in front of me hadn't progressed to that stage yet. She only wheezed a lot.

"Okusfab," I said. "Ms. Vecfemo is very sick. She's undergoing more cancer treatments, but she'll be happy to know someone cares about her."

That made her smile a little. "How is Nathan doing?"

I choked down a sob. "He's fine. He still looks good."

The children had paper and pencils in their rooms. The other day, I drew her sketches of my family and friends. I would have shown her the device with the security camera views on it, but I still didn't know how to recharge it, and I had to deal with a _lot_ of children.

Every one of these children had some sort of medical problem, each one different from the others.

The one in Room 103 was Super AIDS.

110 was Leukemia.

114: Diabetes.

117: Lung cancer, though the patient never actually smoked.

119: M.S.

120: Macular Degeneration.

121: Cancer again. Different part of the body. Actually, there's a lot of cancers.

I tried to read Ms. Okusfab _Wind and the Willows_ , but when she saw my Sacred Gaxea, she wanted me to read that instead. So I read, or rather _translated_ the story about how the Lord Ponai created the universe by directing the events of the big bang and hand crafting lifeforms out of a soup of amino acids.

When I got to the account of how the first Abreyas were formed, I thought about Nathan and wept.

"Aunt Pillow! Why are you so sad?"

Deciding it didn't hurt anything, I told her about how my son may never hear the story, never know the Quaceb faith, or Jesus, of whom the Gaxea prophesied, or his love.

Okusfab hugged me. "Don't cry! You have _me_!"

This only made me cry more.

"Ponai created the whole universe," she said. "Can't he do anything to help you?"

I sighed, brushed the girl's hair. "God puts us where we are to bear witness for Jesus."

Now _the girl_ looked glum, a girl that had things ten times worse than me. "But you can't witness to your son, can you?"

I shook my head. "That's what's so hard. All I can do is pray that his heart will receive the truth."

"I want to receive the truth," Okusfab said. "Tell me about this Jesus Abreya. Did he have a long tail like yours?"

I felt like I'd been slapped. Here I was crying over my own troubles, and this girl didn't know the Lord.

"No, honey, Jesus is a _person_. Human, yet not."

"Like a part Abreya person?"

I whimpered, thinking about my egg and my babies. "No. Let me explain."

I took a deep breath and told her about my savior.

"Excuse me," said a voice from the door.

I turned and saw a blonde woman in scrubs marching into the room. It was a synthetic human, identical to the `Big Bird' unit we found on LV 426. Lean bodied, angular face, hair tucked back in a bun.

"I have some medicine for you, sweetie," the android said. "Now just lay down. I'm going to inject you with something, but it will only hurt for a second."

The girl meekly laid down on her bed. "Okay, mommy."

The synthetic looked almost motherly as she tucked the child in.

"What were you and Pillow talking about?" she said as she lifted Okusfab's arm, prepping it with an alcohol wipe.

"She read the Gaxea to me, and told me about Jesus. Do you know about Jesus?"

The android froze. "Existed between 4 B.C. and 30 A.D. Source of the Christian religion. Also known as Jesus of Nazareth."

"Pillow says Jesus loves me."

`Mommy' glanced back at me with an expression that could possibly be construed as anger.

She turned her attention back to the child. _"Does this make you happy?"_

Sarah Okusfab nodded.

The android injected something into the child's arm. _"That's good."_

"Mommy?"

"Yes, dear."

"What does this medicine do?"

 _"It's supposed to cure your illness._ It makes your breathing better."

"If I get better, can I go outside and play by the lake?"

"Yes, honey. You can do whatever you want. But now we must wait. This cure is _very_ important, and we _must_ give it time to work."

"Mommy," Sarah said. "When Jesus was nailed to the cross, what did they do with his tail?"

The robot looked baffled. "I don't understand."

Sarah suddenly gasped in pain, arching her back.

She laid flat, stiffened, stared blankly at the ceiling.

Dead.

The robot checked Sarah's pulse, pressed the girl's eyelids shut.

I burst into tears, hurrying out the door.

I slumped into the nearest plastic chair. When I thought about how it didn't accommodate for tails, I cried again.

"Get used to it," said a voice. "Kids in these wards are always dying. One of these days we'll actually find cures to some of these things."

My coworker. A gray haired old woman in remarkably good shape for a female her age, lean and athletic. Her face, while showing signs of age, had undergone plastic surgery. The name badge said S. Germanotta.

Stefani told me she used to be a famous musician once, but I wasn't familiar with any of it, even when she mentioned something called _Poker Face_.

"Was it country?" I had asked.

She really loved that. Couldn't stop laughing. She said I made her day. She'd stop me in the hallways and say "Yee-haw" and start laughing again.

When I told her my story, and about my egg, she said she hatched out of an egg once, on stage.

I asked her why she worked in the hospital, if she's such a big star, and she told me she found her higher calling, that she wanted to be with "Her people."

She loved those children too. When she noticed me looking glum about Okusfab, she gave my hand a squeeze.

"How do you do it?" I asked. "See those kids day in and day out, and not be affected when all these terrible things happen to them?"

"I'm never not affected," she said. "But I know they're all going to die eventually, just like we are, and they need someone to be there to put a little sunshine into their ordinarily bleak and depressing lives.

"They're going on a trip to the other side, so I'm packing them a little lunch. Something to take with them."

That made me break down. I pulled my hand free to wipe my eyes.

"You're a good girl, Pillow," Stefani said. "I bet your girl was terrific."

"The best," I sobbed.

I still couldn't bring myself to visit another Sarah, so we went to the employee lounge and had coffee.

"Did you ever dress up like a baby?" I asked my friend. "When you performed?"

"What? Why would I do that?"

"Lady Gaga?"

Stefani groaned. "Never." But then she paused. "Wait. I _did_ do that for one of my live performances."

This made me giggle.

"See, I made you smile."

I sighed, shuddering as I thought about going back into the wards.

"You don't have to do this, you know. You can go back to your room. It's barely five A.M."

I wasn't sure if I wanted to give up so easily. I drank more coffee.

"Pillow," the woman asked me. "Have you ever kissed a girl?"

I grimaced in disgust. "No. What kind of question is that?"

"A regular one." She applied some lipstick, scooting her chair closer to me.

I backed away. "I'm sorry. I don't do that."

"Your husband is very lucky," she said, disappointment clear on her face.

"I still consider you a friend," I told her. "Just not _that_ kind of friend."

She took this in stride, patting me on the shoulder. "I got it! How about I come along the next time you visit a kid?"

It helped. We went from ward to ward, doing our best to make each child happy. The kids called my friend Aunt Stef. We read them stories, helped them with puzzles and artwork, whatever they felt like doing.

We used cameras at the nurse's station to avoid waking anyone up, especially ones that were better sleeping off the effects of pain medications than being roused from their slumber.

They liked my Gaxea, preferring to hear that more than Mr. Toad or Ms. Germanotta's personal favorite, _Bunnicula_. Stef made no protest when I shared my faith. After all, the children asked.

"What's outside?" one of the girls asked me.

This prompted me to look outside the door and check. "Nothing. Just the usual hospital ward."

"What's in those other rooms?"

I faltered, opened my mouth, then Stefani supplied, "Other sick people. You can't go near them. You'll get ill."

"I already am ill," Sarah said. "I have a bad kind of Lupus."

" _You'll make other people sick._ Sicker."

We were wearing gloves and masks and protective gear to shield the girl from contaminants.

"What's outside those wards? I mean, beyond all the sick people I can't talk to?"

"Another building," I said.

"There's a park, fountains and Canada geese," Stefani added.

"Can I go see them?"

"I'm sorry," I told her. "That's too dangerous, with your immune system the way it is."

She cried, but there was nothing I could do but hold her.

"So I'll die if I leave?" she asked. "Is that it?"

I nodded. "Possibly."

"I'm already dying. Let me see the geese and the park."

I glanced at Stefani, but she shook her head no.

"Aksukba..." That was my Wava name for her. "The people in charge gave me specific rules. If I break them, I'll never be able to see you again."

She cried some more. We took turns hugging her and reading her stories until she fell asleep.

Stefani checked her watch. "It's feeding time for your floor. You want to do it, or should I?"

"I'll do it," I said.

"You're right," the woman sighed. "You need a break from all this."

Three times a day, a pair of meal carts were sent to our floor via elevator, a small one with no room for anything but the carts. Meals for each of the twenty six occupied rooms, not counting mine, since I could order Thai if I wanted.

When I got to them, the trays were covered, and still warm. Room number labels had been attached to each one, to avoid confusion. I traveled the floor in counterclockwise fashion.

209 looked like a no frills zoo exhibit. Concrete. A log. A tire dangling from the ceiling. The room contained a black feline, similar to a panther or jaguar, but strangely neither. The creature moved quickly, sometimes clawing at the glass. Its sudden disappearances and reappearances frightened me. I was glad to find it in there and not outside.

I pushed a tray of processed meat through the slot.

208 was a jail cell, one holding a brown skinned man with lead weights around his ankles. His feet looked like dinosaur feet. Not much of a conversationalist.

Since it was Monday, he got the standard breakfast: Bacon egg and cheese biscuit, hash brown puck. The cells had built in water fountains.

207 was for Newt. A child's play room and an observation room separated by bulletproof glass. I had to _go inside_ to feed the girl. Security, you know.

Poor little Newt. She lost her parents, then Ripley, the surrogate mother that rescued her, now this.

Since she was awake at this time of day, I could talk to her. "How are you doing, honey?"

"Okay, I guess," she sighed. "Did you find out anything about Big Blue?"

I slid her tray of pizza through the slot. " _Well..._ "

The large stuffed dog had been sitting rather precariously on top of the cart when it came up today. "...Mister Blue has been a very naughty dog. Somehow he _found his way into the kitchen..._ "

I left the room, bringing in her dog.

"Big Blue!" she cried. "Thank you, Pillow!"

I smiled warmly at the larva. She may have looked like a flesh eating insect, but inside she was just a human child.

Now, giving Newt anything larger than a tray required a tricky security procedure.

First, you had to close and lock yourself in the observation chamber, then you had to type in a pin code and wave your badge over the sensor. A second security door then closed over the door you came in as the inner cell door opened.

I gently pushed the dog into her chamber.

Newt scampered out, giving me an affectionate nuzzle. "How is Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik?"

"She's okay," I said, holding her in my arms. "She sends her love. She wants to know if you've been studying your bible."

"A little," she paused. "Not really."

I sighed. _"Then we'll just have to do some after egg time."_

"I wish I could go with you. _It's so boring in here!_ "

I gave her a nod. "I know, but people are _scared_. We have to cooperate with these humans or we won't make any progress."

"Does that progress involve getting what we want?"

I glanced at the cameras. " _Maybe._ But we have to consider their needs, too."

"They already consider that for us," she grumped.

"Guep kai yok," I aid. "Remember the story of Joseph? Remember how Joseph languished in prison for many years until Pharaoh had that dream that only he could interpret?"

"I...think," Newt said.

"Joseph became a great ruler in Egypt. I think God has great things in store for us as well. _We just have to wait for the right time._ "

"So I can be president?" Newt asked.

I grinned. " _I don't know about that_ , but you might become something very important, and there's nothing the people in charge can do about it."

I rubbed her head. "Now you go play with Big Blue. I'll be back after my rounds."

She scampered back to her room, and I locked everything up so I could leave.

I smiled as I watched her burrow into the stuffed animal, wiggling into a little pouch Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik had sown in. If adult Ss'sik'chtokiwij were the wolves, Newt was the puppy with the squeak toy. I loved it.

You could only see into room 206 through a narrow band of security glass along the side of the door, presently, from my position, I only spotted a pair of slender female legs that bent backwards at the knees, ending in long four fingered hands. She got the standard breakfast.

"Did you see my book anywhere?" a voice called from inside. "The big thick one with the gold?"

I shook my head. "I don't have access to everything. If I had a title, I could probably order it for you."

The prisoner only sighed. "I can see why they let you walk around free. You're a moron."

I moved to 205.

Another security cage. Under the dim and flickering overhead lights, I couldn't see much but flashes of green scales through the clean spots in the grimy slime caked glass.

The tray of Chinese fried rice seemed and odd fit, but that's what had been ordered for the subject. I heard only animal purring sounds when I put the plate through.

204 was empty, its previous tenant having made the mistake of attempting escape through a seldom used oven in the crematorium. It turns out `seldom' is not the same thing as `never.'

Room 203 held a human, one so infected with disease that they put up several biohazard signs and ABC shielding around him. Through the semi-translucent material, I could see him, his flesh splotched all over by neon blue mold with thread thin hairs wiggling out as if alive.

A conveyor ran his food through a decontamination compartment. The tray clicked on the floor, but the patient made no move to retrieve it. I wasn't quite sure what they did with the empties, for I didn't see any.

I felt sorry for the man, but I knew if I went in there, I'd be in just as bad a shape as he was, maybe worse. Does that make me a bad Christian? I don't know. I couldn't help but feel guilty. Better Christians than I have gone to live among lepers.

202 was mine, so I rolled the cart on to 201, the floating skull.

Due to the dark, I wasn't sure what was in there. I could only see the death's head, a ghostly looking thing that rotated in the air, wiggling its jaw in the shadowy blackness. I'd screamed the first couple times I'd seen it, but now that I knew it wasn't going anywhere, I just shoved the food through the slot and moved on. I guessed it to be an early Halloween gag.

As the slot closed today, I heard the skull speaking to me. A male teenage sounding voice, the skull's jaw flapping with each word. "You think they can give me a fruit muffin instead of hash browns? These things are friggin' disgusting."

"You...talk?" I stared at the skull in astonishment, then searched the area for the source of the thrown voice. I still couldn't see anything.

"No shit. Tell the cook his hash browns suck. I want muffins."

"I'll...see what I can do."

"It's a _muffin_ , not Dom Perignon. I'm sure they can manage."

"I'll ask."

The only thing I could see through the window of 220 was a pair of huge dirty looking yellow insect wings, pitted with holes, like moths had eaten them. Whoever or whatever attached to it liked to sing, though I couldn't understand the words. He, she, or it got the standard tray.

219: Fat guy that spent all his time sleeping and playing video games.

I pushed the cart along.

218 looked empty, but a tray had been assigned, so I put it in, despite there already being a growing pile of untouched trays in that place.

217: Empty. No tray.

"Hey! Dumbass!" came a shout from the cell. "You delivered to the wrong room!"

I peered into there, but saw no one.

"Yeah! _I'm in here_! Lady Gaga told me you were screwing up! Don't put any more trays in 218! _It's empty, genius!_ "

"I'm sorry," I said. "They put the label on the tray, so I put it there."

I turned to go retrieve it, but the voice said, "Don't bother. I want yogurt with granola and a cinnamon apple bagel."

I nodded.

"Write it down! Along with the note saying not to deliver to 218!"

I humored her by doing so, moving to 216.

I couldn't see much in the darkened room, but it appeared to be a rat, one the size of a Saint Bernard. Its meal appeared to consist of a pile of gray bricks, an oversized version of the pellets they feed mice, hamsters and gerbils.

215 held a little girl with no eyes or nose. Her breakfast: A whole uncooked chicken.

The being in 214 unnerved me, a pale thin, large headed creature with slotted nostrils and big almond shaped eyes. All day and night it stood still as a mannequin. You couldn't tell if it were alive at all until you saw its nostrils flaring, and its nictating eyelids sliding over its glassy black pupils. Every day the food (vegan entrees only) vanished somehow, but you never saw it happen.

My dear friend Thonwa occupied the cell next to this creature. She seemed to be recovering nicely from her surgery, so much, in fact, that I could at last remove her stitches. In between the attacks of the worm monsters and soldiers' bullets, I didn't think she'd pull through.

She wiped her dripping proboscis. Allergies, I guess. "Any news about the family?"

"Not much," I said. "They've exposed Sharad to a lot of violence, and taken her out, I guess to do some training. I couldn't follow her with the camera until she returns at the end of the day. David says these people are trying to make soldiers. Maybe he's right."

"A human _would know._ "

I shook my head in disgust. "If only I could have taught her better. If only Zadoori and Naumona had warned her..."

Thonwa placed a claw on my shoulder. "It's not your fault. Think about it from the child's perspective. This is probably the only chance she gets to go outside!"

"It doesn't make me feel any better," I said.

"How is Nathan?"

I shrugged. "They're still using my milk. The nurse holds him. I'm afraid he'll never know his real mother."

"Pillow, we're all part of the family of God. What we should do now is pray that Nathan finds a good Christian family, even if it's not yours, and learns the gospel. Maybe when he's older, and he's able to, he'll come find you."

"I guess you're right," I said. "But I'm not going to give up on him. Not yet."

 _"At least you can warm your egg."_

I checked my watch. "Yes, there's that..."

The thing next door to Thonwa had a head like a banana, glowing white, with blue stripes. It had no eyes, _or mouth_. Vaguely insect-like, it stood motionless like the saucer man in 214.

Its meal was burnt poultry so blackened that I doubted there'd be any nutritional value at all. Of course, I didn't know how the thing ate.

Finishing the full circle around the exterior, I moved to the middle block.

228\. A young boy with hypertrichosis David would probably compare him to Eddie from the Munsters.

The boy didn't seem to trust me.

229: Red haired woman with only three fingers on each hand. The tips of her ears were almost pointy. I could see them poking through her hair.

When I saw the face in cell 230, I froze, staring in shock. "Your highness!"

She was an Abreya, just like me, except with a more humanlike face and gray pelt.

Quana Falcameer, the princess of my planet. She even wore the fan collared gown of a royal.

The small nose and rounded mouse-like ears, unusually pronounced overbite, it all reminded me of the late Christian princess.

This was the first time I'd seen her in this place. The cell had remained unoccupied from the first day I started serving to that moment.

"Yes, dear sister in Christ!" the female exclaimed. "Dusaq! _It's me!_ "

My mouth hung open. "How can this be? _I saw you die_!"

An awkward silence followed.

The princess died in a horrific explosion. Forensic pathologists identified pieces of her body, matched the DNA.

The female said, " _I got better._ "

I shook my head violently, refusing to believe what I was seeing. "The way you died...There's no way to walk away from something like that!"

"Would you believe _the Lord_ resurrected me?"

"You're a clone," I said. "Someone made you like this to impersonate Quana after her death!"

The female let out a coarse bitter laugh. "It seems your years at Arimadex were not wasted!"

She slumped in her bunk, defeated. "The only one that made me was Ponai. You see, her father had an _affair_ , and it just so happened that I looked exactly like the princess. We traded places frequently. She liked my poverty, and I liked her luxury. _Weirdo_.

"I never told her we were related, or that Mr. Falcameer secretly gave my mother money. He made the mistake of putting the money in my hands one time. _I had a field day."_

 _"Ippi Snarken,"_ I breathed. _"I've heard so much about you."_

She nodded. "How come you get to walk around and I don't?"

"They're keeping my children hostage." I told her what they were doing to them.

"You should leave. Once Nathan is weaned. It sounds like they're at least taking care of them. _No one's being tortured..._ "

"You have an egg," I said. " _Then you'll understand._ "

She gave me a dirty look. "I did. _Miscarriage._ "

"I'm sorry. Regardless, I can't leave my family."

Ippi frowned at my glumly. "You're weak."

I sighed and moved on.

231 was a man with large rabbit-like floppy ears on the sides of his face, his nose bulbous, unusually pronounced central incisors poking through a (no pun intended) harelip.

Chef salad.

233: The magician.

I couldn't see much. Like a few of the other cells, I only had a long narrow rectangle of glass to see through.

Whenever I came by to slide my tray through the slot, I got rewarded with a little show.

Today a hand in a yellow suit sleeve appeared, producing a bouquet of flowers with a wave.

The flowers magically disappeared, replaced by a handful of cards, one a laughing crow.

The card popped out the meal slot. I picked it up.

The number 226 had been written on the back.

I asked for an explanation, but the hand waved goodbye, disappearing from view. I continued my rounds.

222: An emaciated looking creature with a human face and body shape, covered from head to foot with brown hair. No clothes. A bushy tail the size of a blanket stuck out her backside. Her solid black eyes stared dully at me.

She had a very simple expression on her face, which seemed simpler when I pushed in a tray of nuts. She squatted on the floor, nibbling in bent wrist squirrel fashion.

223: A deformed canine, grossly overweight, its skull somehow grown on the outside of its head. It had paws for its forelegs, its hind legs like octopus tentacles. A grotesquely long tongue dangled out its mouth as it panted.

It got dog food, of course.

Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik had a cell next door to that thing. A double layer security chamber like Newt's. She owned a little bookcase with some interesting selections, many of them theological, plus a small cabinet filled with needle craft supplies. The results of her efforts could be seen in a small stack on a nearby table.

She did computer work, like seminary school lessons, on a small tablet computer.

"Hello, Pillow," she said as I entered. "As always, I am pleased to see you."

"Likewise, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik."

"How is Newt?"

I told her about the toy.

"Ah. That's good. I hope that sewing stays put for a long time."

"Are you finally ordained?" I asked.

The shiny black head nodded. "I admit, I may make humans nervous when I attempt to serve publicly, but I am happy to at least stand in official capacity for my people. Have you seen Julia?"

"No," I said. "I fear she has been taken where they took Sharad. Some sort of military training ground, that's my guess."

"Alas," Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik groaned. "I can only hope her birth and memories of her parentage will keep her on the righteous path. But a child chooses their own way, right or wrong. It is free will. I myself am not the perfect example. I have killed, murdered even."

I slid her a copy of _Study In Scarlet_.

Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik smiled as she opened the cover, flipping through the pages. "At last! It seems no one else here understands the difference. They gave me two complete Sherlock Holmes collections, and neither one of them contains the story. Just because it had a different picture on the cover, they assumed, incorrectly, that it differed from the one I already had."

I gave her the standard meal.

"You think they'll allow me to use watercolors?" she asked. "I saw a program on Bob Ross, and I believe I can make something interesting."

"I'll see what I can do," I said.

"I wish I could be out and exploring the building, but they are frightened."

"We are all imprisoned in different ways," I said.

"That is true. But God places us where we are for a reason. A unique witnessing opportunity."

I nodded. "Good luck with yours, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik."

227 was my last stop. A woman, Asian by the look of her facial features. Her ears were enormous, like two pink bat's ears on the side of her head, but she was otherwise normal looking. She wore a small red suit top and leather leggings, an outfit, I supposed, she initially arrived in.

"Annyong," she said. This meant hello in Korean. "Have you found way out of building?"

I shook my head sadly.

"I am sooo tired of this awful-place. So much cold and lonesomeness! I am so misery!"

"I am sorry, Song," I said. "There's nothing I can do. I have a _family_ here."

"Ohhh..." she groaned, physically showing more disappointment than her limited vocabulary would allow.

"I wish I could help you..."

She pushed a note through the food slot. "Give to Nagahl, please."

I nodded. "What does he look like?"

"He is... _green._ "

I frowned as I thought about it. The only green _anything_ was that _creature_ that I couldn't even see completely.

"I...don't know if I'm going to give it to the right person."

"Tell him... _you are Song's friend_. If he is Nagahl, he will be happy to read note."

" _Okay_ ," I said, feeling a little uncomfortable.

I checked my watch. Egg time. The cinnamon bagel and other requests would have to wait.

I hurriedly put the carts in the cart elevator and took the other one down to the basement level where my egg was kept. My husband's jail was a floor down, and I didn't have access.

The floor looked identical to 2F, long stretches of gray concrete with beige stripes down the walls. The only difference were the gray windowless steel doors.

The one that held my egg had a palm print scanner, a badge scanner, and a numeric keypad. Not only that, but it had a monitor for important messages, messages I had to obey or forfeit my special privileges.

A lot of times, it only read `Ready' or `Numchecks 5812,' something like that. But today it flashed a different message. The one I always dread:

`Proceed to Room 010 and follow the instructions.'

I had to do this once before. In fact, that was how I earned egg warming privileges in the first place.

The people in charge directed me to go into a little office and write the answer to a question on a notepad.

A single deeply personal question.

"Describe a type of female costume that your husband would find irresistibly erotic. Answer truthfully, in detail, and you will have access to your egg."

I didn't want to answer. It was none of their damn business.

But what was I to do?

I feared what they might do with the information, but this was my only chance to brood my child.

As much as it pained me, I gave them all the information they requested.

Now here I was again.

The office was gray, containing only a desk, a chair, and, affixed to a wall, a framed picture of a coral tree, and a flat panel television monitor, currently dark.

My instructions were on a card above a blank steno pad:

"Write your husband a letter telling him that the marriage is over, and you're seeing someone else. Be convincing, and you can visit all your children, _and_ maintain the existing egg warming privileges."

I read the card several times, collapsed on the chair, staring at the blank pad.

I couldn't stop the tears from falling.

[0000]

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611602

(Ellie's Journal - Cont'd)

* * *

Dad led me to a booth, but we got stared at, so he knocked on the rear door.

To my surprise, it actually opened, and I was looking into an industrial kitchen with a long counter, racks of shiny pots and pans, and a big gas stove.

The non-English speakers _let us in_ , closing the door behind us.

The moment I heard the latch click, the woman spoke to my parents in perfect English. "You have ten minutes to talk with the subject. The experiment must continue according to schedule."

"Your table is in back, Mr. Williamson," the man said.

"Thank you, Deepak."

"Dad?" I cried in confusion.

Dad just shook his head, leading me and mom through the kitchen.

Ironically enough, there _was_ actual food being prepared, just not for us, I guess. They placed meals in closed metal trays, setting them on conveyor belts that disappeared into the walls.

At the end of this kitchen, I could see a rounded tunnel, wide enough for the passage of a magnetic tram parked at its mouth.

The tunnel was the type of endlessly winding corridors you find beneath a hydroelectric dam. I suspected the hot meals arrived to their recipients cold.

A chef cooked stir fry in a giant wok, huge flames blasting underneath as he tossed its contents in the air. Spatulas flipped rows of hamburger patties. Microwaves nuked enchiladas. My mouth watered.

"The dead man back there," Mom said. "That was Mike Weyland's son!"

Dad frowned. "Danny? He's in Colorado, running the UCCS music department."

"No, honey. Not him. I meant _the other one_. Remember _that one woman_? Before the divorce?"

Dad furrowed his brow in a skeptical expression. "Are you sure? That dead guy looks to be in his late twenties. Have you _seen_ Mike Weyland?"

"George, _he's not as old as he looks_. Besides, the son was born _near the end_ of his first marriage."

Dad smirked. "Are you saying that Mike..."

"I don't know, George. All I know is, _that's his son._ "

Dad had a sickened expression on his face.

A cozy little designer table stood flush with the end of the dish drying area of an oldschool Hobart industrial washer, surrounded by hard wood and metal chairs in a modern style, and a television.

Someone had set out a meal for us, small cheeseburgers in square porcelain airline plates.

We had one cheeseburger per person. Mom and dad sat down and started eating.

I didn't touch my food. My friends were going hungry outside the door. "Dad, what's going on? What are you doing here? Why did they call you Mr. Williamson?"

Dad put down his burger. "Sugar, _I work here_. That's why I never showed you where I worked, or talked about it. I was afraid you'd end up here like all the others."

Mom nodded. "I work at the medical facility here."

I suddenly felt sick. "You've both been lying to me."

They looked hurt.

" _We had to,"_ Mom said. "It was the only way."

"We're not even married," said Dad. "It's just part of the program."

Mom squeezed his hand. " _But the role has grown on us so much that we might as well be._ "

She was right. I once caught them having sex.

"Raising you may have only been an assignment," Dad said. "But the feelings are real. We really do love you as our daughter."

Mother was wringing her hands. "That's what makes it so difficult. We wish we could just take you back home, and be your parents again, but that's not part of the arrangement."

"So this _really is_ my home now," I said, feeling cold.

"You're a very special child," Mother said.

"Am I a clone?" I blurted.

Dad glanced at mom with obvious discomfort.

"I can't tell you that," Dad said. "It would compromise the assignment."

"Why am I here?"

"We can't tell you that," said Mom. "I'm sorry, sweetie."

"Can you tell me why I got to live with you, when there's an army of girls that look like me marching around the compound, and living in barracks?"

They both shook their heads.

With frustration edging into my voice, I exclaimed, "What _can_ you tell me?"

We can tell you that _we love you_ ," Dad said.

Mom nodded. "We wanted to let you know that, even though we may never see you again, we still care for you as our daughter."

I wept as she said this. "So this is goodbye?"

"Sugar," Dad said. " _Some girls don't get to have a goodbye._ "

"We thought you deserved at least that much," Mother said.

"We got special permission from the directors."

Mother looked pained. "We had to cut through a lot of red tape just to get this much."

"So you're just going to leave me here," I moaned.

"Think of it as a long summer camp."

"It's not summer camp!" I shouted. _"People died! I'm with a bunch of strangers!"_

Rather condescendingly, dad said, "I saw _Josh,_ and _Kamara._.. _And you've already made friends with David...!_ "

I responded with a disgusted grunt.

"Ellie, dear, from now on, it's going to be very important to follow directions. Do what management tells you, and I promise you'll be okay."

" _Don't disobey them like you disobey us!"_ Dad urged. "They can make things very... _unpleasant._ Believe me, you'll long for the days when we merely grounded you and sent you to your room."

"These aren't the kind of people you want to get upset," Mom agreed.

I shivered at the implications.

Dad waved at my plate. "You haven't touched your cheeseburger."

"Two people just died," I said. "Their bodies are on the carpet outside. How can you even eat?"

"There's _so much_ I wish I could tell you."

"How did they die?" Mother asked.

I blinked. "You mean you don't know?"

"The best way to keep secrets is to control the flow of knowledge. What happened?"

I told her about the creature.

They stared, but I didn't see any expression of doubt on their faces.

Thinking fast, I said, "Can my burger have it to go? Like in a doggy bag?"

He slowly shook his head. "Sugarplum, that's another thing we came here to talk to you about. _Don't feed David anymore._ Management has a very specific program set up for him, and you're undermining the operation."

"They want him to leave his wife," I said.

"He _has_ no wife," Mother argued.

I scowled. "I don't believe you."

"Believe what you want. Just don't get in the way. This isn't coming from me, this is an order from _management._ David _must_ marry Sarah, or face consequences."

"Why is it so important for him to marry her?" I asked.

Dad gave mother a questioning glance. She nodded her consent, so he said, "Sarah has a very special purpose in the program. David is the only one providing the stability she so desperately needs."

"They're _good friends_ ," I said. "It's not like he hates her."

Mother gave me that little smile she gave when I asked her why we couldn't have a pony, or a roller coaster built on the side of the house. "Sarah is a physically mature young woman, hasn't matured psychologically in the same way. _For the requirements of the program, they need to be more than_ just friends."

"Why?" I said. "Why is that important?"

Mom just sighed. "I'm not allowed to tell you any more than that. We can't risk you telling anything to your _new friend._ "

"What do you know about Ernie?"

Mother grinned. "You always did love Sesame Street. Kids your age normally grow out of it by now. Just another reason why I love you, I suppose."

I rolled my eyes. "No. _The alien named Ernie_. It was on a little computer and it talked to me."

Their expressions were unreadable.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Mother said. "But if I were you, I'd stay away from the livestock in this place. Touch the wrong thing and they'll never let you out of quarantine."

"Do you know this from experience?" I asked.

"No, but I have a few friends who do."

Feeling unsettled, I said, "Where are those friends now?"

"Quarantine."

"Still?"

She gave a nod. "It's not something that you leave."

I shuddered.

"Do you... _remember_ anything?" Dad asked. "Has this program _stirred any memories?_ "

Swallowing hard, I said, "What do you mean?"

"Have you _dreamed_ anything?" said Mom. "Any sudden flashes? Maybe something that...didn't seem like part of your own life?"

I relaxed a little. "I'm not sure I understand. Are you saying I reincarnated or something?"

Dad looked worried. ".. _.Something like that._ "

"This is important," Mom said. "Did you _see_ anything?"

I gawked at her, awaiting the punch line. "Seriously?"

 _"Please,_ " she said. "If you saw something, tell us."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh yes. _It's...coming to me now_. I was...standing before the Confederate Congress in 1861...they were electing me the president of the provisional government. I was a _man_ , and I had a wife named Varina."

No, it wasn't a memory, I was just regurgitating the Civil War history I learned in school.

Mom looked convinced, but Dad whispered something about Jefferson Davis.

She sighed. "Honey, _this isn't a joke._ If you have a memory..."

"How do you know I'm joking?" I said.

"I can tell when you're lying," Dad said.

I opened my mouth to say something, but changed my mind. "What are you looking for, then? Memories of Marie Antoinette? Alexander the Great? What?"

"If we tell you, your mind will be biased against the specific memories we're trying to cultivate. It may cause them to become further repressed."

"What if they're not there at all?" I said. "Did you ever think of that? What happens then?"

Mom's expression became grim. "We're praying that isn't the case. We really don't want to lose you."

"What's the difference?" I said. "You'll lose me in ten minutes."

Her expression told me that wasn't what she meant.

 _"They'll kill me?"_ I cried.

They fumbled for words, but answered with their faces.

"Honey," Dad said in a guarded tone. "I somehow doubt they'd do anything that drastic. A lot of work went into this project."

"But you don't know."

He made no reply.

There was no point in going further with this line of inquiry. "Where are we? Is this earth, or some other place in outer space somewhere?"

"It's earth, honey," Dad said. "That's all I'm allowed to tell you."

"Why did you lie about what year it was?"

"It's all part of the project," said Mom. "We had to set things up that way to control the outcome."

"What outcome?"

She just sighed.

"Why was I living in a fake town?"

"For the same reasons."

"How did you make everything on the internet show the same year? _It's the internet!_ "

"No, baby," Dad said. "It's the _intranet._ We used A.I. It's complicated."

My parents glanced at each other and stood up all of a sudden.

"Where are you going?" I said. "It hasn't been ten minutes."

" _I know._ " Mom had tears in her eyes. "But the longer we stay, it'll only make saying goodbye that much harder."

Both of them hugged me, and, despite all the lies and betrayal, I felt my eyes getting moist.

They left me, marching back to the tram.

Not satisfied with the way things were going, I followed them.

"No, no, honey," Mom said. "I'm sorry, you can't come with us."

"But I _want_ to," I said.

"Ellie," Dad warned. "Listen to your mother. We don't have any choice in the matter. _You have to stay."_

 _"But I don't want to stay!"_ I whimpered, wiping my eyes.

I saw no change in my father's expression. "Sweetie, this is how it has to be."

"You don't belong to us," Mother said.

"Then who do I belong to?" I asked.

Instead of replying, they walked further from me.

I gave chase, but mom turned around and shouted, "Stay!" like I were the family dog being told not to go into the living room while the guest were there.

"No," I said with a cold edge rising in my voice. "I'm not going to let you do this. I'm coming with you!"

They both stopped and faced me.

"No, honey," Mom said. "You're not."

Dad nodded to someone, and a metal loop dropped around my neck. It was Deepak. I could tell by the hands and the curry smell.

Mom wiped away tears as she turned her back to me.

"Wait!" I said. "Who do I belong to?"

They didn't answer.

I grabbed at the loop, trying to pull it off, but Deepak only tightened it. Electrical current caused my body to involuntarily spasm. I blacked out and saw stars.

"Who do I belong to!" I yelled.

They boarded the tram, turning a key in the console.

Like a dog on a leash, I jerked against the noose-like device that held me hard enough to destabilize Deepak's footing.

I received a jolt for my efforts. I dropped to my knees, another involuntary response to the voltage.


	9. Chapter 9: Grandma Shasharmazorb

Deepak and his companion dragged me back through the kitchen, and through the door, tossing me on the restaurant carpet, the cheeseburger slider in my pocket getting smashed in the process.

The door clicked shut behind me. People stared.

Lacethanny scampered in front of me, giving me a confused dog look, tilting her head.

I stood up, brushing myself off.

Sarah now stood alone by herself, with the larva in her arms. Everyone seemed scared of her. No one wanted to get close. They didn't exactly sit close to David, either.

"So," Jeff said. "What did you and mommy and daddy talk about?"

I sighed.

I really didn't think he needed to know, so I kept it brief. "They told me I can't leave, that this is goodbye."

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "You got some shitty parents, kid."

"I know," I said. "But they're all that I have."

"They may not be here for you, kid," David said. _"But I am."_

I smiled a little. "Thank you. That means a lot."

Lacethanny climbed up on my shoe, staring up at me.

"What suddenly made you turn into a friendly creature?" I asked.

"Sarah showed me a world where humans and Ss'sik'chtokiwij can coexist and thrive peacefully. I saw alternate sources of nourishment, and a method to safely reproduce without harming the host body."

"I'm glad you did."

"Well..." Lawrence lit a cigarette with the matchbook that had fallen out of David's dress. " _If we can't eat..._ "

"Wait," said Amy. "Shouldn't we save those so we can, I don't know, _set something on fire_ and get out of this dump?"

Lawrence answered by taking a few puffs. "If you've got them, we can save matches by lighting them off mine."

Shelly and Amy did so.

Curious about smoking in general, I snatched Lawrence's cigarette out of his fingers and took a drag.

Nothing happened. Unimpressed, I handed it back.

"You're supposed to _cough_ ," Amy said. "Then your mom's supposed to slap you for picking up the habit."

"I wish she _would_ slap me," I muttered. "At least then she'd _be_ here."

" _What is wrong with you?_ " Shelly asked. "You acted like that didn't even affect you."

"It didn't," I said.

"She's probably been sneaking her mother's cigarettes," Amy said.

" _Start them young,_ " Lawrence mocked.

I locked eyes with David, nodding toward the door.

He raised his head slightly, twisting his lip.

I led him behind the hotel.

"What did you find out?" he asked me.

I handed him the crumbling cheeseburger, getting my hands all sticking with the goopy cheese.

"Wow," he said. "That's really nice of you. Did _you_ get anything to eat?"

I pulled a carrot out of my other pocket. "I'm sure they've hidden more food around for me to find, if I do the right tricks. _You're_ the one they're trying to starve."

He glanced back. "I should get Sarah."

I shook my head. " _Christmas goose._ "

David seemed to agree, for he muttered a quick prayer and took a bite of the messy sandwich, now mostly a cheesy beef patty, some lettuce, and bread crumbs. I also found some pickles and a tomato slice in my pocket, but he declined the offer.

"Why are they doing this?" he said between mouthfuls.

I told him everything I knew.

David frowned. "I guess that might explain Amy. They must be teaching Sarah to behave as _the other woman_ in an affair."

 _"Maybe..._ "

"It sounds like you're going to get in deep trouble for doing this," he said, licking his fingers.

"Who gives a shit? I didn't ask to be part of anybody's _experiment_. I was put here _against my will_. Why should I do _anything_ these people tell me to do?"

David wiped his hands on his outfit. "I agree. The thing that scares me is what these people will do to change your mind."

"They can go to hell."

Jeff had been spying on our activities from the corner of a nearby building. "How was the cheeseburger, asshole?" he shouted as he marched up to us. "Everything tasting okay?"

He punched David in the face.

David backed away, putting up his fists. "What, you want me to regurgitate it for you, or something?"

Jeff didn't skip a beat. "Gee, _would you_?" He swung at David's head.

David dodged out of the way and rabbit punched him.

"You know what?" Jeff pulled out a switchblade. "Fuck it."

The blade snapped out, and he slashed a line across the front of my friend's pretty dress.

Fearing for my friend's life, I knocked Jeff into the dirt with a sweep kick.

I bent over him, reaching for the knife, but he beat me to it, stabbing me in the chest.

I was surprised how little it hurt.

"Ow," I said in a tone one would use when getting a paper cut.

I yanked the weapon out, shocked at the small amount of blood.

"The fuck?" Jeff cried.

Not wanting another murder on my conscience, I folded the weapon and stuffed it in the pocket with all the cheese and onion bits.

"Stay away from my friend!" I yelled.

"She's a zombie!" Jeff gasped, backing away from me in horror. "I _really am_ in hell!"

With that, he fled the scene.

"Are you all right?" David asked me with concern.

"I feel fine." I offered him the carrot. "You think Sarah would eat this?"

"Probably not. She's finicky. You should have it." He knelt down, peering at my wound. "No blood. What, are you the Terminator or something?"

I shrugged, nibbling my carrot. "When I find out, you'll be the first to know."

Hearing rumbling sounds, I froze like a rabbit downwind from a predator.

David crept to the corner of the building. "What the hell is that?"

I looked that way and saw a caravan of beige trucks and Humvees coming up gun alley. Apparently they knew how to bypass the system.

The vehicles parked around the gazebo, and a group of muscular men in dark uniforms and black ski masks stepped out, each armed with automatic weapons.

"What is this?" David asked. "Another game?"

"I don't know."

"Okay _Spidey_ , Why don't you climb up a tree or a building or something and do lookout?"

I had just barely placed my hand to a tree when we got hemmed in on all sides by armed soldiers with red white and blue star and crescent symbols on their uniforms. The dark skinned men loaded clips in their weapons. They meant business.

"Come with us," the leader said.

David raised his hands and obeyed. "My God, it's Al Buraq! Amy was right!"

"All it means," I said. " _Is that they got in somehow._ We don't know anything."

"No talking," the leader growled, leading us within the circle of trucks.

Everyone from our group was there. Jeff, Amy, Shelly, Lawrence, Josh, Kamara, Morse, Golic, Sarah, and even Lacethanny, curled around Sarah's neck.

We raised our arms in surrender, dreading what would happen next.

The leader stepped in front of one of the vehicles, commanding all of us to face him.

"Behind me is _Mecca_ , give or take a few thousand miles. You will continue to face this most holy shrine and prostrate yourself on the ground in worship of our great god Allah, or you will die."

Seeing a gun pointed at him, Jeff immediately dropped to his knees, urging Amy to do the same. "C'mon! It doesn't mean anything! It's only acting!"

Amy obeyed the orders.

Josh and Kamara followed their example.

"I _knew_ this had something to do with Al Buraq!" Amy said. "Barnes must have done something to piss them off. Maybe we're in for a _Moslem_ wedding!"

"Silence!" the leader shouted. "Speak again and-"

"You'll _keel_ us," Jeff muttered. "Got it." He pantomimed zipping his lips.

"Well," Lawrence said as he bowed. "At least we know which way is east!"

That left me, Morse, Golic, Sarah, Shelly and David.

Sarah glanced at David for guidance, but his expression wasn't a clear yes or no. Golic stood close behind her, almost as if using her as a shield.

Nobody moved. Warning shots were fired in the air.

"Bow! Put your faces to the ground, and thank Allah for sparing your life!"

"Never!" Shelly cried. "I'm sorry, I love my Jesus way too much-"

The men used her for target practice, punching her body full of bullet holes.

"Shelly!" David shouted.

"On the ground!" the leader snapped. "Now!"

"Since when did God take away free choice?" David asked.

In response, they shot him in the leg, forcing him to the ground.

A pair of men marched around the people who bowed, instructing them on the proper bodily position for prayer, how to position their feet, their faces...they had to say "Allah is great" and "Blessed be the prophet Mohammad." Their shoes were even removed.

"Down!" the leader shouted to Morse.

The skinny man swallowed hard. "No."

He collapsed under a hail of bullets.

Golic rambled about something, _squatting_ on the ground, not to obey the men, but to draw in the dirt with his finger. They left him alone.

"Would you like me to kill them?" I heard Lacethanny asking Sarah.

She dropped to her knees. "No. It is not our way."

"Are you sure you should be doing this?" the larva asked. "I saw your religious beliefs."

"What choice do I have? I don't want to get shot."

"I could kill them."

She just shook her head.

Only I remained standing. Alone. Defiant.

This wasn't out of any sort of faith, it was just me getting sick of being pushed around. I had guns pointed at me, but I didn't care.

"Does that make you feel tough?" I yelled. "Shooting a _defenseless little girl_?"

A group of men rushed me.

Someone pulled a sack over my head, throwing me into the back of a truck.

They secured my hands behind me with zip ties so I couldn't remove the sack. I would have tried to free myself with Jeff's knife, but the men had taken it.

I rode for what seemed like hours in that truck, which smelled strongly of grass clippings and gasoline.

We hit several bumps along the way. As the vehicle turned, my body flopped sideways into a bony male body.

"Shasharmazorb's child!" said a muffled voice. "Truly I have found favor in the eyes of my Lord!"

"Can you take this thing off my head?"

"Certainly," he said. "As soon as you remove _mine._ "

I sighed, wiggling to an upright position against the wall.

Our vehicle came to a stop so abrupt that I fell face down on the floor.

A group of men grabbed me, unceremoniously dumping me on a patch of dusty soil.

I heard boots stomping, doors slamming, and the rumble of trucks driving away. Afterwards, nothing but crickets.

Well, almost nothing. After a long period of silence, I heard a voice hollering something about Allah in Arabic.

An hour passed, I think, for the guy stopped yelling for a long time, then started back up.

I thought I would be there on the ground all day, but then I felt a knife sawing through my zip tie, then the knot on the back of the bag.

The first thing I saw was Kamara's face.

She held up the dirty switchblade. "They threw me this before they went away. It was really hard for me to cut behind my back like that, as you can probably tell by the amount of time it took."

"You did a good job, Ms. Houdini."

She smiled at that.

I brushed myself off, then did a double take as I took in my surroundings.

It was the same exact ghost town that we'd left!

I thought for a moment we'd been given the runaround, but then I noticed subtle differences: The buildings, though identical in their architecture and apparent contents, now featured only Arabic writing, and the toy store had been replaced by a doctor's office. There was also the addition of the flag pole, bearing a red white and blue Islamic flag, and a minaret towering over the trees.

My companions lay sprawled on the ground before me. Lawrence, Josh, Golic, Jeff, Amy, David and Sarah, her new pet imprisoned in a little glass container.

Kamara handed me the knife and I freed them all, including the creature.

As I cut Sarah loose, I noticed a set of numbers tattooed on the back of her neck. I asked about it, but I couldn't understand her slurry English.

"She's a clone," David said. "We found her in a lab on LV 426. They apparently made her to breed more clones."

Sarah nodded. "Anth mebicathuns. Dey eben mabe thum wid my bajima."

I shuddered. "That's horrible!"

She only shrugged.

"You should consider yourself fortunate," David told me. "Not all clones get to have friends and parents and go to school."

"What makes you think I'm a clone?" I cried indignantly. "How do you know I'm not the genuine, and the other girls in this place aren't the copies?"

"You have numbers on the back of your neck," he said. "I looked at them before I carried you to your room earlier. Naturally born people wouldn't have those, unless they're weird."

I started crying. "I don't want to be someone's clone! I want to be a normal person! An original!"

David put his hand on my shoulder. "Normal is overrated. I like you just the way you are."

Sarah hugged me, mumbling something about how we were sisters now. It made my stomach feel sick with disgust, but my heart contradicted it by thrumming with the joy of belonging.

Jeff stood up, taking a look around.

"You've _got_ to be fucking kidding me!"

"I told you Al Buraq was behind this!" Amy said. "Here's your proof!"

Jeff let out a plethora of swear words. "Shit, they didn't just get in, _they set it all up!_ "

From our distance, the figure of the muezzin was nothing but a hunched motionless shadow. I eyed him with suspicion.

Lawrence muttered something about theme parks as he stared at the hotel.

Someone had bandaged David's gunshot wounds, though I wasn't sure what they did apart from that. Blood stained the wrappings, and he couldn't stand without wincing in pain.

"Will you be all right?" I asked as I knelt by his side.

"I...don't know," he groaned. "I think the bullets are still lodged in there. Someone gave me a transfusion, but, you know, what if they got my blood type wrong?"

Lawrence pointed to the doctor's office. "Maybe we look in there for something to help him."

"I say just let him bleed out," Jeff said. "It's what he deserves."

Amy elbowed him hard.

As much as I mistrusted Lawrence, I figured he was the most medically competent person there, so I went along with his idea.

Peering through the office's darkened front window, I could make out shelves of prescription drugs and other stuff.

"This looks promising," Lawrence said as he pulled the door open.

David leaning on me for support, we wandered in, searching for a light switch. Sarah tailed us, you know, because of David. Everyone else stayed outside.

In the middle of the rows of prescription stock, there stood an examination table with stirrups and a foot stand, a big rolling surgical lamp, trays full of surgical tools, an IV machine, and cabinets full of supplies.

Other than the spraypainted image of a castle from a chess game one wall, the environment was clean as one can expect.

David slumped on a stool, frowning at his wounds.

Lawrence undid the man's bandages. "Well, on the bright side, we won't need to cut open your pant legs."

It turns out our doctor actually knew what he was doing, anesthetizing and removing the bullets and whatnot like a professional.

Sarah got bored and walked back outside.

"Glad you didn't think it was a panic attack," David joked as the man worked.

Lawrence replied, "Don't make comments like that while I'm making sutures."

Hearing a rotary phone ringtone, I looked around for the source of the noise.

Lawrence stiffened and swore under his breath.

Giving David an apologetic look, he reached into his pocket. "Stay here. This will only take a minute."

"Since when have you had a phone?" David cried.

Lawrence didn't answer the question. "Excuse me," he muttered, stepping into the back corner.

I snuck behind a shelf to eavesdrop.

"What did I tell you about calling me on this phone!" I heard him saying to someone.

After a pause, he said, "The Syl program is none of my concern. It's not my fault if you can't get your act together."

The other party said something, to which he replied, "Subbasement 3C. Punch in 2259200.

"... _You_ love her? She was my _wife_! How do you think _I_ feel! We _all_ have to make sacrifices, Jim. Don't call me on this line again."

He pocketed the phone, rushing back out to help David.

"So what did you talk about on the phone?"

"Business," was all Lawrence said.

 _"Did you at least call for help?"_

"We're not getting help."

Soon my friend was stitched up and standing with a pair of crutches I found in the closet.

We found lab coats and medical scrub in the closet. David pulled out a white coat, frowning at it. "Am I to assume that these belong to someone, or are these just props?"

"I'd say they're props," I muttered. "Like the lemonade in that fake city."

Since David's dress was ripped and dirty, he decided to exchange it for one of those outfits.

The only uniform that fit him was magenta colored, stopping in the middle of his calves. He wore it anyway, muttering something about a woman's cut.

The silence of the room was punctuated by a sudden low growl, the lights growing dim as if in response.

A pair of fiery red orbs appeared in a shadowy recess of the room, accompanied by a second guttural rumble.

The darkness expanded as the orbs came closer. I could hear something breathing.

Something unseen threw Lawrence into a shelf, scattering pill bottles everywhere.

The man shrieked as blood sprayed from his face and neck, wounds seemingly inflicted by the air itself.

Part of the man's chest vanished in a bloody splurt, then, as the second chunk disappeared, the glowing orbs turned to face _me_.

I felt a rush of wind. Something heavy slammed into me, knocking me to the floor.

Instinctively, my hands shot up, grabbing at the invisible weight pressing upon my body. Hot breath reeking of decaying animal matter blasted me in the face.

Well, I thought, at least I know where its mouth is!

Up close, I could see the air shimmering around...whatever it was, an effect like a million fleas with tiny mirrors standing in line on waving tightropes. It traveled down the length of the thing in rippling waves, giving the impression of a large lion-like beast.

The light changed, and I saw only the room.

Feeling a disturbance in the air, I raised my arm just in time to block a clawing slash I couldn't see until my bandages fell away in ragged shreds, and meat hung off the limb.

It didn't hurt very much. It just made me angry.

I pulled the knife out of my pocket, snapped out the blade, thrust it into a random spot in front of me. Black blood sprayed my face and clothing.

The creature let out an infuriated roar, loud enough to leave my ears ringing.

Mounds of squirming maggots appeared on the shelves, then vanished with the shift of the wind.

A swarm of insects temporarily blinded me, only to vanish into thin air when I tried to brush them away.

Noticing a squirming motion out of the corner of my eye, I looked down and saw that, instead of a knife, I held a rattlesnake.

I flexed my hand, preparing to drop the thing, but then I noticed the squarish metallic feel to this `snake', and squeezed the object tighter. The snake disappeared, resuming its form as a blade.

The thing slashed me across the chest before I realized that it was distracting me with tricks. The creature had the ability to create illusions.

It's strange, but as my blood splurted out, I found myself only getting really mad about the ripped clothing, how indecent it would look. I yanked the knife out and stabbed a different spot in the air.

A giant cobra's head appeared in front of my nose, and black widow spiders crawled up my arms. When I didn't react, it turned invisible again.

The hot breath became stronger. Everything darkened around me. I got the sense that it was trying to bite my head off, and I was looking into its gaping maw. I reached for the blade, but a heavy claw knocked my hand away.

I felt what could only be described as teeth digging into my forehead, the lowers under my jaw. I kept reaching for the knife.

What happened next is difficult to describe.

I sort of... _vomited_ , I guess.

I was angry. I tensed up my body, and I kind of screamed from my stomach and throat. At least, that's what it felt like.

Something shot out of my mouth, then the creature let out a pained howl. The invisible weight left my body.

Another deafening roar. The widows and pill bottles rattled. Now that blood coated its body, making it visible, I could see it rearing up to tear into me again.

It leapt, the outlines of its claws shimmering in and out of the visible spectrum. And me without a weapon.

A shrilly high pitched mechanical whine filled the air, then a loud bang as something hit the shelves.

I saw a bright flash, then a huge gray body thudded to the floor.

I wasn't sure what I was looking at exactly. It resembled a panther, but its front legs were like the arms of a man, its head like that of a de-striped tiger, with the ears of a bobcat. A spiky ridge, like that of an iguana, ran from the crown of its head to the scaly reptile tail projecting from its hindquarters.

The thing had no hair or scales, just a lot of smooth, muscular gray flesh. Its glowing red eyes glared at us with pure hatred.

I looked up and saw David holding the paddles of a defibrillator. He could stand without crutches, but it gave him pain.

"Well! _That_ seemed to work!"

The beast rolled and tried to get up, so he shocked it again.

And again.

And again.

David nodded to me. "A little help?"

I yanked the knife out and stabbed the creature several times. It made me think about the burglar I killed, but I tried to put the thought out of my mind so I could survive.

Besides, this wasn't a human, it was a monster. It was like _hunting_.

The beast still made attempts to get up, but David shocked it into collapsing back on the floor.

Once it stopped breathing and lay still, David hobbled over to the supply cabinets, helping me bandage myself up. He wasn't good at sewing, but he did what he could with the stitches.

"Oh my God," he said when he had finished work on my arms. "I can see your rib cage."

I paled. "You think this will... _kill me_?"

"Judging by what I've seen so far, if it does, you won't feel it."

He stuck his finger in the wound, brow furrowing as he did so.

"You're not wearing gloves," I said. "You're going to cause an infection."

"I've never cut a person open before, but I'm fairly certain that the human rib cage is covered in soft tissue, with _gaps_ in between where you can see the lungs and vital organs. At the very least, you should be bleeding like a stuck pig."

"What are you saying?" I asked.

"I don't know. You're Wolverine?"

As he stitched me up, I heard the ringtone again.

David limped over to Lawrence's dead body, pulling out the phone.

When he pushed talk and said hello, it went dead.

Finished with the stitches, I put on an aquamarine uniform that was too small for David to wear, rolling up the pant legs so they didn't trip me.

As we left the building, the shadow of a drone flitted past. The doctor's office exploded in a huge fireball.

"Oh my God!" Kamara cried as I picked myself off the ground, helping David to his feet. "Are you okay?"

Why do you care? I thought. You're running some kind of experiment! "Yeah. Fine."

Jeff stared at the mound of burning debris. "What the hell was that!"

"They called in a freaking drone strike," David groaned. "Must have locked onto Lawrence's cel phone."

"He has a _phone?_ "

" _Had._ Past tense."

Jeff frowned. "Where is that quack doctor, by the way?"

David pointed to the demolished building.

"Fuck. Me."

"No thanks," David said.

"You playing nurse now?" Amy asked.

David tugged on his uniform top. "Had to put on _something_ after your boyfriend cut open my Weghesh."

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Fine. _Ex boyfriend_. _He ruined it."_

"Those are women's scrubs, you know."

David shrugged. _"I hear the metrosexual look is making a comeback."_

He hobbled to the gazebo, sitting on its steps.

Like the other buildings, this structure looked the same as the one in the other place, the only difference being the spraypainted crow replaced by the Islamic symbol. Kamara leaned on the gazebo's railing, idly paced its floor.

"What was in your cubbyhole?" I asked David.

He looked confused.

"You know, _that secret compartment in your room."_

He sighed, handing me a folded letter.

This is what it said:

"Dear David,

I tried to make this marriage work, but I can't take this anymore. On Fiorina 161, you sneaked behind my back and slept with that _girl_ , and made her pregnant.

As a Christian, I tried hard to avoid even uttering the word divorce, but this isn't a thing any woman should accept. If I ever leave this place, I am going to divorce you. Until then, I'm moving on with my life.

There's a man, _another human._

His name is Chuck.

We slept together.

I know, it's a sin, and it doesn't say much about me as a Christian, but _things happened_. I think you, of all people, will understand.

He is very handsome, he loves our children, he's Christian, and has been comforting me during this troubling imprisonment. He works in the company, and he has the connections and resources necessary to give our children the best possible home. A better one than you ever could.

He makes me feel special. I didn't know he was seducing me until we were in bed. It was like something out of _Vuexwek Zehmotar_.

This is all to say it's over. I hope you'll forgive me.

Please don't be angry. I want you to be happy too. You can marry Sarah with my blessing.

Sincerely,

Pillow.

 _P.S. I and the children are together again. If you love them, don't try to find me. It will only make it difficult for them, and their mother._ "

"I don't believe it," David said. "She wrote this in _English_ , which she would never do with a letter like this, unless she wants someone else to see it.

"Secondly, she didn't say anything about marrying this `Chuck' guy, which is out of character for her, morally.

"And _Vuexwek Zehmotar_! That's not a romance story, it's about a mother who sacrifices everything for her children."

"Maybe something changed?" I suggested. "Like she lost her faith or her morals? Things _do_ happen..."

David looked unconvinced. "I _thought_ about that."

"And maybe it's in English because she showed Chuck the letter. Like a show of faith? To Chuck?"

"I... _guess that's a possibility._ " He stuffed the letter back into his scrubs. "You still haven't explained _Vuexwek Zehmotar_. Regardless, I want her to tell me all that _to my face._ "

Hearing a strange noise, I looked up and saw spraying machines popping out of the dirt around the burning building, saturating the area with fire suppressing foam.

"For a couple less dollars," David said. "They could put _water_ in those and _lay down some sod._ "

I would have laughed, but a second later I heard the sound of splintering, cracking wood, then a scream.

I glanced back just in time to see a pair of brown arms disappearing down a hole in the gazebo floor.

"Kamara!" I rushed up the steps, staring into the hole.

The gazebo had been built over a well. I could just barely see my friend treading water in the darkness below. She looked so frantic that I feared she would tire out and drown.

"Help!"

Careful to get a secure position on the least unstable boards, I leaned in closer.

"Ellie!" Kamara shouted. "Go get help!"

I swallowed. _"It's already here."_

I yanked out some of the feeble boards and climbed down, slapping my hands against the grimy walls of the well.

It didn't work as well as I thought. Like a suction cup pressed against a wet bathtub, I had difficulty creating a vacuum or whatever it was that caused my hands to stick. I slid.

"What are you doing!" Kamara cried. "I didn't say come down and join me!"

I dug my fingers into whatever I could, working my way down. "I'm coming to get you."

"Are you crazy!" she screamed. "How the hell are you going to pull me back up!"

"Would you believe I'm Spider Woman?"

 _"Oh my God! I_ really am _going to die down here!"_

I scaled the walls for about a yard or so, then accidentally went sliding several feet.

Noticing it getting dark all of a sudden, I looked up and saw a metal plate sliding out of the wall, like the moon slowly eclipsing the sun. It reminded me of a scene from _The Ring_.

"Leave me!" Kamara said. "Go while you still have a chance!"

I descended lower. "I'm not leaving you!"

"Then you won't leave."

I didn't answer, I just reached for another brick.

All at once, I lost my traction completely, falling into the inky black water with a noisy splash. The water was freezing.

I had landed on Kamara. She clawed and thrashed at me like a wild animal, but I remained calm, even when she dunked my head under water and tried to drown me in her panic to reach the surface. I don't know. I kind of felt like I didn't need air that much.

The enormous plate clanged to a stop inside the opposite wall, throwing us into total darkness.

"Ellie," Kamara gasped as she dog paddled beside me. "The next time I ask you to go get help, get fucking help!"

"There _has_ to be a way out of this," I said. "If this is some kind of experiment, someone must have set this up as a test."

"People build shoddy floors all the time. People fall into basements and other things and get hurt. It's not part of any plan."

"Then what about the automatically closing lid?"

This question silenced her.

I swam to the side, gripping the bricks I found there. "If you're tired, you can hold on to me."

She did, and I was fine with it. Like a fly hanging on a pole, I felt like I could stay like that for awhile. The only problem was the cold.

"What was in your cubbyhole?" I asked as she shivered against me.

"Since we're going to die anyway," she said with chattering teeth. "I guess it won't hurt to tell you...My...dad shot my mom, then went to jail."

I gasped. "Briana's dead?"

I felt her shaking her head. "Briana's not my real mom. Dad cut a deal with the program. They agreed to post his bail if he signed custody over to them. I found the papers in my room. Shows me what kind of father _he_ was!"

To me, it seemed kind of pointless for her to have that hidden in her room. "What's the agenda?"

"Ellie, I love Martin and Briana. They may not be my real parents, but they care about me. They're all I've got. I'll do anything to keep them. That means helping _you._ "

" _You're doing a great job so far_ ," I joked.

"Yeah? And who decided to voluntarily hop off the high dive?"

This was getting us nowhere, so we both fell silent.

"At least I won't be dying alone," Kamara said at last.

"Is Pillow real?"

"What do you think?" she groaned. "We're trying to make him forget her."

"That's pretty low," I said.

"Look. David has no function in this project. If he marries a normal human girl, he can _leave._ "

"Sarah isn't normal," I said.

"Normal _ish_. The point is, to the rest of humankind, she's just a crazy person, and so is he. They might end up in a mental institution at first, but they'll eventually be released and get to join the general population."

"And where would _that_ be? In that empty town I used to live in?"

"Ellie, _America still exists_. This facility is located (REDACTED)

"What about Jeff? What's his story?"

I felt her shrug. "Dunno. I think he pissed someone off."

I could see her fingers.

I thought it was my imagination at first, like how you see red floaty things when you press your fists to your eyeball, but those plump digits were moving too naturally.

"I think I can see you?" I said.

"You know what I think? I think you're a few sandwiches short of a picnic."

But my eyes seemed to be focusing, showing me things: The gradation between the warmth of the surface and the chilly water. My own warm body, blue at the goosepimply extremities. And... _a tangled mass of purple lurking in the depths below._

"Um...Kamara?"

A cluster of glowing lights materialized beneath us, accompanied by a great cloud of bubbles that brought rotten smells to the surface.

"What the hell is that?" Kamara asked.

I had no answer.

A massive tentacle rose from the water. I could see its shape, red-purple against the backdrop of dark blue bricks. It slowly curled over our heads in a luxurious, almost lazy fashion.

Its next move was so quick that it took me completely off guard.

I only had time to catch a mouthful of air before it dragged me into the darkness.

The lights resembled eyes, eight in total, arranged in a cluster like a spider. It hemmed us in on all sides by its tentacles.

An enormous mouth opened as it pulled us in, its fangs looking purple and light blue to my newly acquired infrared.

Kamara thrashed against a second thick muscled limb a few feet away from me, using up a lot of air. Me, I had the switchblade out, looking for weak spots.

As the mouth came closer, I extended the blade.

Its eyes came closer. I guess the octopus thing was too stupid to know what a knife was. It would learn.

The moment it dragged me over its head toward its gaping maw, I grabbed hold of its lip and popped its eye.

A huge cloud of bubbles blasted me as the thing roared and tried to squeeze me to death.

I calmly shoved the blade into the tentacle, again and again, until it at last let go, hiding that limb from my reach.

Kamara had already passed out from lack of oxygen. I had to hurry.

I swam up over the creature's head, bursting another eye. And another.

Feeling a powerful disturbance in the water, I glanced back and saw the tentacle that had once held Kamara coming after me.

My friend was nowhere to be seen.

Alarmed, I grabbed the knife handle, intending to turn and swim after her, but the blade was stuck.

I abandoned it, using my speediest swimming techniques to stay out of reach while conducting my search.

Seeing no human shaped blobs in the creature's mouth, I thought the creature played an elaborate shell game until I noticed the red blotch in the darkness below.

Kamara! I suppressed an oxygen wasting shout, diving after her.

Fearing she would drift to the bottom, or, if there wasn't one, into some watery abyss I'd never be able to penetrate without weights and a scuba tank, I scrambled deeper, wondering how long before I too would run out of air and drown.

I reached for the nearest part of Kamara's body, which happened to be her foot. I managed to grab a shoelace, but the shoe came right off. A tentacle curled around my ankle.

I kicked violently with that leg until I was free, reaching down again.

I caught Kamara's foot, but wasn't satisfied with that because the sock was slipping, so I gripped tighter and pulled her in the rest of the way.

The thing loomed close. I could see the giant red body out of the corners of my eyes. The tentacles came after me, seeming to know exactly where I was, despite its visual impairment.

I don't know what possessed me to do something so goofy, but all of a sudden I just decided to do an impression of a dolphin, I mean, how it swims.

Even with my friend in my arms, I moved surprisingly fast, moving out of range of the thing before I realized I had a head start.

A few yards ahead, I saw a dark square, darker than the blue bricks that surrounded it. Whether this were only a dead end, an intake vent, a water pump, or a channel full of piranha, I didn't care. I _had_ to get away from this monster.

With a firm grip on my friend, I dove through the opening, kicking my legs like crazy, for fear of the thing catching me as it followed me in.

I saw light. It lit up the grimy bricks that surrounded it. I didn't care if it was just a light bulb or a submerged beer sign. I wanted to see it, maybe find a way out.

The illumination came from a square opening in the tunnel ceiling. I craned my neck upwards, but could only see the greenish yellow light.

I swam toward the glow.

The chimney ended in a sort of fleshy pea colored tarpaulin, a thick plastic-like translucent membrane.

I could see a room through it, a big square concrete thing that looked like a warehouse, one presumably containing oxygen. I had to get in. But how?

The tarpaulin was too thick. Unyielding.

Or was it?

Positioning my friend on my shoulder, I dug my fingernails into the surface and kept pushing.

I couldn't get through.

In my anger, I growled, expending oxygen as I pushed harder. I imagined my fingers were knives, extending my nails with all my strength.

To my surprise, the material began to give. My index finger slipped through, then my middle and the rest of my hand.

I shoved my other hand into the gap, forcing it open, wider and wider, until I could fit my head and shoulders through.

I shoved Kamara in ahead of me. If there was anything dangerous in there, she was already going to be dead from drowning, so I didn't feel that bad about her going first.

Of course I hurried in afterward.

Air! I took several deep breaths, replenishing my oxygen starved lungs.

That's when I noticed the stench. Like mildew, old hamburger grease and burnt popcorn. I coughed, thought I would throw up.

The room was filled with _eggs_. Giant green pods, sticky with some sort of mucus. I stood on a sheet of this sticky substance.

A wall obscured a portion of the dimly lit room, so I couldn't see around the corner.

No time for sightseeing. I immediately dragged Kamara onto a clear spot on the concrete and performed CPR.

It took a minute too long. I thought for sure I had failed, that she was already dead.

Sobbing, I gave up and turned away, thinking I'd just have to find a way out on my own.

I heard a cough. And another.

"You cracked my ribs!" my friend complained. _"And one of my shoes is missing!"_

I said, " _You're welcome._ "

She got up and joined me. "Where's my other shoe?"

I told her it was back with the creature. She shuddered.

The cold water soaked us to our skin. Our teeth chattered as we rubbed our arms and tried to get warm.

Kamara pointed to the eggs. "What are all these things?"

"I...don't know."

Slowly, one by one, the flaps on the tops of the eggs opened up.

I leaned over one of these things, trying to peer inside, but the moment my face got near, the flaps closed again.

Kamara's presence, in contrast, had the opposite effect. I stepped around her to get a better look at them, but I only made _those_ eggs close up.

"I wish I could see what's inside," I muttered.

Kamara paled. "I don't! C'mon. Let's get out of here!"

With a nod, I took her hand, leading her to the far end of the chamber.

What we saw around the corner made us stop in our tracks.

Behind the wall stood a massive black insect, like an ant with humanlike skeletal features, but double a man's height. Hard shelled body, broken chitinous `crown' growing out of its head, and an egg sac trailing behind its body.

Upon my approach, the thing distended its jaw and breathed heavily.

I wanted to run but saw no doors. It seemed the thing blocked the only one.

It advanced.

I glanced back at the pool. It seemed to be our only chance of getting out of there alive.

"C'mon," I told my friend. "Let's go back."

Kamara didn't like that idea any better than staying where we were. "Are you sure there isn't some other way?"

The big creature tilted its seemingly eyeless head in a questioning manner as it pointed its face in my direction. "You...look... _familiar_."

I gawked at it. "Who do I look like?"

" _An enemy_ ," it sighed. "One who wouldn't forgive."

I tensed up in fear. "Did you kill him?"

The beast shook its head. " _She_ killed _herself."_

"What's it saying?" Kamara asked.

Instead of replying, I asked the creature, "Are you going to kill us?"

The thing appeared to glance back and forth. "Do you know how to read?"

I stared at the shiny alien head, not believing what I was hearing. "...yeah?"

"Can you teach me?"

I swallowed, fearing what would happen if I said no. "Okay..."

"Ellie!" Kamara hissed.

I waved her to be silent.

Suddenly a book landed at my feet. Black leather cover, silver capital letters in times font.

The creature's large claw carefully flipped open the cover, flipping to the book of Genesis.

The thing pointed to the first sentence, opening its mouth. "In...the...buh...buh..."

" _Beginning_ ," I supplied.

I helped the creature read through Genesis, explaining words like firmament when they appeared (it had footnotes). Kamara goggled at us like she were watching a sideshow exhibit.

I learned the creature's name. Shasharmazorb. I used it to encourage her.

When we started on Genesis 2, I said, "I'm sorry. I have to leave. My friends need me."

I thought Shasharmazorb would get angry and kill me, but she just slumped her shoulder plates, looking depressed.

"Hey, if we ever come back here, I promise I'll help you read some more. Can you please show me a way out of here?"

Shasharmazorb pointed a claw at a pair of doors behind herself, one her size, the other smaller.

"This is a prison. The humans will not let you out."

I examined the doors carefully. Reinforced steel. They had palm scanners, a card reader, and a numeric keypad. Faced with such an insurmountable obstacle, I just sat on the floor and gave up. It seemed I would either be doomed to stay here and help Shasharmazorb read all the way to Revelation, or risk further damaging Kamara's ribs by going for another swim. If someone didn't capture me first, that is.

When I remembered what mom said about quarantine, I paled, trembling in fear.

Kamara showed me the ID badge that I had lost. "I took some things out of your pockets when you were asleep. You know, _when you first arrived."_

I got up. "What about the other things? Any ideas what they're for?"

" _Maybe._ "

Kamara swiped the badge through the scanner, then typed something on the keypad. The machine beeped pleasantly, flashing green. She pressed her palm to the other scanner, and the small door clicked open.

I frowned at her in suspicion. "That worked _too well._ "

Kamara shrugged. " _I was just guessing._ That number is the same as my parents' burglar alarm."

The whole thing set off warning bells in my head. " _What about your palm_?"

"I _told you. I'm part of the program_. You know, _for my family._ "

 _"So you know about all this."_

"Nuh-uh. I've never seen this place in my life. You think they tell _me_ everything?"

"Then why did your palm print work?"

She glanced up at the ceiling. "I'm really not sure, but we should go."

"Can I go with you?" Shasharmazorb asked.

I sighed. "Maybe later."

Honestly, I worried she would kill Kamara. I liked this creature right where she was.

As we stepped through the door, Shasharmazorb called after me. "My granddaughter wishes to speak to you."

I spun around. "Ernie?"

She nodded.

Before I could get more information, Kamara slammed the door shut.

"Hey!" I protested. "I wanted to hear more!"

"If you want to stay back there and keep that thing company, be my guest, but I saw those eggs coming open. "

It's weird, but the thought didn't seem too terrible to me. _I worried more about_ _Kamara_.

We stood in the same kind of hydroelectric dam tunnel I'd seen through the restaurant kitchen. A concrete tunnel that smelled of that creature's room, and pool water. No distinct identifying features or landmarks to differentiate it from the maze of corridors that connected to it. Pipes ran along the walls and floor, wires, plumbing and other stuff, I supposed. The walls and floor reverberated with an industrial hum.

Kamara marched off to the right. "I think this is the way out."

" _If you say so,_ " I muttered, following her.

Kamara handed me the keys and other things she'd taken from me, including the soggy cardboard air freshener with the key jammed inside. "Josh says you're avoiding him."

I cringed. "Maybe he shouldn't have been looking at my underwear."

"Someday, you're going to _want_ a guy to look."

"Maybe. But when it happens, I don't want it to be with that creep."

A few yards down the tunnel, I asked, "Do you know where you're going, or is this just a hunch?"

"A hunch."

With all the lies she told me, I couldn't tell if she were being honest or leading me into a trap.

I stopped where I was. "So you don't know."

"You got a better idea?" she asked indignantly.

I leaned against a wall, staring at its cracks and mildew spots. "No."

Then I smelled something. Sort of a food smell, but it made me think of David...and Shasharmazorb. "Wait."

I followed the scent.

"Hey! Where are you going!" Kamara demanded.

" _I've got my own hunch_. _And it's better than yours._ " I kept going.

Kamara looked worried, but she followed me.

"You've been amazing," she said. "I think the directors are really going to be pleased. I mean, you _escaped from that thing in the well_! You _saved me_! You climb walls...you can even talk to that creature..."

"Are they threatening to take your family away if you fail?"

She swallowed. "I...want to do what's right, and help them out."

It sounded like a yes.

"Why's your hunch better?" she asked me.

"I smell something familiar. It's hard to explain, but I think I should follow it."

We passed a door marked with a radiation symbol.

"I heard we have a nuclear power plant," Kamara said. "I think this might be it."

The tunnel continued straight for a long time, not branching out or anything. I saw nothing for a long time, except more of those numbered radiation doors.

"Let's go back," Kamara stammered. "I don't like this."

I shook my head. "I'm sure it won't be like this forever."

She made a frustrated noise, indicating that she disagreed.

"You can go back the other way if you want, but I'm going this way."

"I'm not going to abandon you."

On we went, down more identical looking tunnels.

"Any reason why David would come down here?" I asked.

She frowned. "No. We moved him straight from Containment to Learning Town. Why?"

"I _smell_ him."

"Now _that's_ creepy."

"You got a better plan?" I snapped. "Tell me now, or don't make fun of me."

"Sorry."

I sniffed the wall. "What's Learning Town?"

 _"We've been living in it_. The buildings and the gazebo. That's it."

"And where was David before... _Containment?_ "

"I don't know. _Space?_ The point is, he couldn't have been down here."

I wrinkled my nose. "I'm not so sure."

The tunnel I followed ended in a fork, marked with vague numbered signs pointing in different directions. "Finally!"

But when we glanced in either direction, we only saw more of the same looking tunnels.

"What's your hunch telling you now?"

I leaned close to the nearest wall, comparing it with its opposite. The strongest scent was to the right, so I followed my nose.

We followed that right corridor for a long time, until it hit another fork.

I wanted to go left from there, but Kamara pointed to a doorway ahead of us. "Wait. Let's go in here."

The place was low security. Simple key locks. We tried the doors along the hall to see what was inside, but we had no useful keys, and we didn't want to draw attention to ourselves.

"We're losing the trail," I said. "Let's go back."

"You're not a bloodhound. This is all a hunch as far as I'm concerned, and I see a _cafeteria_. Let's go look for food."

Sure enough, we had stumbled across a sort of employee break area.

We marched ahead, looking around.

The room contained a jukebox, vending machines, a cigarette machine, and four large tables surrounded by plastic chairs. A Road Kings pinball machine and some racing video game with the high score list filled from top to bottom with the initials FUX bleeped away in the corner. Another point of interest: A TV on the wall displaying a frozen image of X-Men's Nightcrawler folding his hands in prayer.

Kamara jumped the counter of the kitchenette, rooting through cabinets, stuffing her pockets.

"This is just between us." She handed me some beef jerky. "Don't give any to David, okay?"

"And why is that?" said a voice from the entrance.

I would have dismissed what I saw as a hallucination, had I not already seen a number of unbelievable things already.

She had the body of a woman, but her face, although humanoid, resembled that of a guinea pig. Her eyes were yellow, with a minus sign instead of an iris or pupil, like a goat. She wore scrubs and a lab coat, but I could see a tail sticking out behind her. In her arms she clutched a fuzzy baby with a tail.

"Pillow?" I said. "That's your name, isn't it?"

She frowned. "Who are you?"

I told her who I was, how I knew David. She wept, making noises like a dog whimpering. "Your friend is right. You have to...get him to agree to it. It's the only way I can keep the children. He'll understand."

"Why don't you just leave?" I said.

She told me about her egg. Another child on the way. And Sharad, her adopted daughter.

"Do you know Ernie? The...alien?"

"Do you want to see her?"

I stuffed my pockets with crackers, energy bars, trail mix, and other dry items. "Yes please."

Pillow took a sandwich out of the fridge for herself, then handed a second and third one to me and Kamara. We followed her out to the hallway, down the tunnel to the right.

"Are they training you to be a nurse?" she asked me.

I told her what happened to my clothes.

"Oh," she giggled. "Sorry. _You look cute._ "

"You won't get in trouble for this," Kamara said. "Will you, Pillow?"

The alien shook her head. "It wouldn't be fair. I don't know who you are or where you're supposed to be. How am I supposed to know if I'm breaking some kind of rule? The only thing I care about is..." She whimpered again. "...Making sure David does _whatever he's supposed to_ , so our children can at least know _one_ parent...How did you find me?"

"This is going to sound weird," I said. "But I followed... _your scent_. _Actually David's_ , but..."

"I touch his clothes a lot."

"Do you live down here?"

She grimaced. " _Yok._ I only stop here when visiting Ms. Shasharmazorb."

All three of us climbed into the rubber seats of one of those white trams I'd seen mom and dad using, clamping down the safety bars. Kamara and I stuffed our faces as it sped through miles of long featureless tunnel

We rode through a long featureless tunnel, probably at least a mile or two in length.

We stuffed our faces as the stretches of identical looking concrete rushed past.

"My husband told you about Ernie?"

I nodded. "Yeah. But I had dreams about him before then."

"Ernie is a _she_. She's been dreaming about you too." Indicating my bandages, she said, "Would you like me to take a look at that?"

I shook my head. "I'm fine."

It took what felt like forever, but the tram at last came to a stop in a gray corridor that resembled a hospital floor.

We were following Pillow to an elevator when I saw the Bishop man coming down the stairs.

"Where are you taking those children, Pillow?"

"Ellie wanted to visit Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik," she said. "Don't worry, they'll stay in the observation area."

"I'm sorry. I can't allow that. These two are to return to The Experiment."

A pair of men in white uniforms joined him on the staircase, both armed with guns.

Pillow gave me an apologetic look. " _Hua kigo._ I have to do what he says. _For the children._ "

"She's right, Ellie," Kamara said. "We _have_ to obey. _I've got family too._ "

I felt betrayed.

I clenched my fists, glaring at my companions.

All that effort for nothing.

I wouldn't let them win.

I shoved past David's wife, racing down the corridor.


	10. Chapter 10: Grace

Everyone shouted at me. They loaded guns, but nobody fired.

I kept running.

I didn't know where anything was, or what lay ahead. I saw rows of locked numbered doors, their contents ambiguous due to lack of windows or clear labels. I passed a morgue, but didn't go in.

I found a laundry, its pressed linen smells blowing out in large clouds, and nearby, a small elevator blocked by a laundry cart. Behind the cover of the cart, I sent the elevator up to a random floor, dashing into the laundry room. I could only hope this would throw my enemies off my track.

Although the scent was old, I could tell Pillow had been down that hallway. She didn't always use the elevator.

The laundry room contained several industrial machines, chrome washers that looked like beer fermentation tanks, driers with doors big enough to fit a torpedo through, and commercial pressing machines large enough to de-crease a sheet for a queen bed.

The stations had been abandoned. The people appeared to be on break or something.

Sheets, uniforms, towels, blankets and such sat in giant canvas carts, mostly soiled. I climbed into one of these bins, straining my ears for sounds of my pursuers over the hum and tumble of the laundering. I peered through eyelets on the sides of the cart, and over the lip, but saw nobody.

I checked my soggy bandages. They had held pretty well throughout the swim and everything, though they really shouldn't have. I adjusted the butterfly clips, and it was fine.

About ten minutes passed without event.

A soldier poked his head through the doorway, looking back and forth, but then he went away.

I waited a few minutes longer.

My cart tipped over, and a thick muscled bald man shoved a mound of soiled whites into one of those shiny chrome washers.

It wasn't whether or not the man would see me, it was only _when_.

When he came back for another load, I threw some dirty pants at him, diving around his grasping arms. By the time he started shouting, I was already back in the hall, tracking Pillow's scent.

For the moment, it seemed I had eluded Bishop and his companions. Not wanting to push my luck, I didn't stay anywhere for more than half a minute.

The scent stopped at a pair of double doors that refused to budge without the use of a card key.

I've seen a few spy movies, so I knew, intellectually, that swiping my badge might alert people to my location, but I really had no choice. One single chance to find Ernie, and Pillow's scent was all I had to go on . The trail lead through the double doors, so that was where I needed to go.

I swiped the badge. The machine beeped in response, but stayed red.

It seemed I couldn't go that way after all. I would have to find a way back to the elevator.

As I turned to search the connecting corridor, I heard a click.

The door still showed a red light, but I pushed on it anyway. A door at my school did the same thing when it was unlocked.

It actually worked. I slipped inside, searching for a hiding place.

I saw nothing but more locked doors. If I tried my badge on any of them, it would only make it easier for them to find me.

 _"Gonna be your man in motion,"_ I heard someone faintly singing from somewhere. _"All I need is a set of wheels. Take me where my future's lying, Saint Elmo's fire!"_

"Hello?" I said. Nobody answered me.

I pushed on the doors, to see if someone forgot to lock any of them.

Nope. They remembered.

"Psst!"

Fearing I'd been discovered, I spun around and saw a little blonde girl waving to me from behind a half opened air register.

The face and hair looked eerily similar to someone else I knew.

I rushed to the vent. "Who are you?"

The girl just held a finger to her lips, beckoning me inside.

Seeing that I had no pursuers yet, I joined her in the darkened compartment.

She hurriedly pulled the cover closed, using an automatic screwdriver to seal it shut behind us. "I'm Sarah Wakweha."

All of a sudden, it clicked. "I have a friend that looks just like you. Her name is also Sarah."

"There's a lot of me's around here." She broke into a coughing fit.

"I know how you feel," I said. "There's a lot of me's in this place too."

Sarah crawled deeper into the ventilation system. "C'mon. The cameras probably saw you come in."

She coughed some more.

I followed her. "Are you all right?"

"I have lung cancer, so no."

"You smoke?"

"No. I just fell asleep one day, and when I woke up-" Coughing. "What are you doing down here?"

"Me?" I said. "I was in an experiment, but I ran away to look for Ernie. How about you?"

"I spent all my life in a little room. I got tired of it."

Sarah led me up a short shaft into a higher vent, fastening a piece of aluminum over the hole the moment I got in. "They'll follow us this far, but they won't know about the panel."

She crawled down another tunnel.

"Listen," I called after her. "I'm looking for Ernie. I'm sure I can find her if I can get safely back in that hallway, when the coast is clear, of course."

"The elevators have cameras in them," Sarah said.

I crawled closer. "What do you suggest I do? I don't know where anything is in this building. I'm only following a scent."

"What scent?"

"Her name is Pillow. She's an alien."

Sarah looked excited. " _You know Aunt Pillow?_ "

I nodded. "How do _you_ know her?"

"She visits me sometimes," she sighed. "I feel bad about her family."

"I feel bad for _you_ ," I said.

"Don't be. When I die, I'll get to go to Chisda and live with Pillow and other Abreyas forever. I'll even have a _tail._ "

"Can you take me where Pillow lives?" Then, to make sure she understood, "I mean, _here._ I'm trying to find Ernie. I'm sure I can pick up her scent trail from wherever she stays."

She didn't answer the question. "What's that crinkling sound?"

I offered her some of the snacks I had in my pockets.

The girl dug into them like she had been starving for some time.

"This is much better than the stuff in that ship!"

"Ship?" I stammered. "What ship?"

"Follow me. I'll show you."

We crawled through a twisting maze of dark ventilation ducts for a long time, Sarah ahead of me, munching snacks the whole time.

And then I saw it through the ventilation grills. A gray boomerang shaped thing a little larger than a private jet, with a large spheroid at one end.

It looked haphazardly patched, a mishmash of seamless futuristic sections and earth junk, like someone had taken parts off an old space shuttle and wielded them to the frame.

The passage above the vehicle was barrel shaped. When we reached its far end, Sarah opened a panel, unfolding a little emergency ladder.

"It was in a scrapyard," she explained. "It took me awhile to punch the holes far enough apart to match up with the hooks. I almost got caught."

I followed her down the ladder a couple stories, into a large hangar. In order to reach the roof of the ship, we had to hang a few feet off the bottom rung and hop off.

Sarah said she had to jump to get back up there, difficult to do with her breathing problem. I promised to help her when the time came.

The hangar contained only the ship and a bunch of machinery, mostly aircraft repair equipment.

Sarah urged me to climb to a lowered boarding ramp on the side of the craft and look around its interior.

Kitchen, bedrooms, a medical lab, and a small Christian chapel. The walls were a gray lavender, and they had a giant Venus flytrap-like furniture piece attached to the floor, its mate removed by a wielding torch. As I stared at the burn marks, I remembered seeing the plant out on the concrete, near a computerized diagnostic system.

The place was rich with old smells. Pillow, Shasharmazorb, David, Golic and others. Only Sarah's scent seemed new.

Sarah opened a freezer inside the kitchen area, showing me its contents. Not very appetizing. Containers of what looked like Timothy hay, things with eyeballs all over them, stuff that looked moldy and worm infested..."I ate most the good stuff, like the pizza and hamburgers. There's a container of giant shrimp, if you want it, but I have to warn you, it doesn't taste like shrimp. Also, that bread in there only looks like it has worms in it. They don't move. It's actually not bad, but I prefer your stuff."

Hearing a noise, Sarah pulled me behind a table, pressing her back to the oddly textured surface.

We held our breath, listening for security people. I thought I heard footsteps.

Sarah pointed to a tunnel on the left. "Go into the room with the saddle. There's a secret compartment in the floor."

I rushed that way, staring through doorways.

Gray bedrooms with jellyfish-like beds, closets and drawers along the walls...

Decoration varied from room to room. It appeared they once held a great deal more, but items had been removed by someone. What remained was mostly terrestrial, one room displaying posters from scifi movies, earth books and videos, another with Disney princesses, Dora the Explorer, and stuffed animals.

The alien artifacts that remained did not appear to be of great usefulness, a cone shaped device that featured a floating image of a forest of massive mushrooms on some alien planet, a glowing device resembling a surfboard, a metal object that looked like a horn, covered in symbols.

I found the saddle on the floor in a room decorated with posters from classic films, _Gone With The Wind_ , _Wizard of Oz_ , _E.T._ , _As Good As It Gets_. A pile of books lay scattered on the floor around it, romance, western, fantasy.

I don't know what kind of animal that saddle was supposed to go on, but it didn't look like something a horse could wear.

Having no time to figure it out, I immediately set about searching for the secret compartment.

It was a little tricky, but I found a hidden catch, opening a section of the floor.

The compartment was crammed with books, like _The Hardy Boys_ and _Narnia_. I thought I saw some alien devices, some earth toys and maybe a weapon, but I had no time to examine them. Already I heard the sound of boots clomping up to the room.

I made myself small and climbed into the compartment, closing the lid. As the latches clicked in place, and I lay there silently holding my breath, I imagined this was probably how it felt to be buried alive.

I didn't move a muscle, keeping my breath slow and even. Men's voices murmured as boots clomped through the doorway, then back out out again.

I must have laid there for twenty minutes, impersonating a dead man.

At last, the bootsteps and voices faded away.

Slowly, I fumbled around for some way to remove the lid. When I couldn't find one, I panicked, my heart rate jumping to an unsafe level.

That's when I heard Queen's _Flash Gordon_ theme blaring in my ear.

The voices, had faded just moments ago, now resumed their original volume, boots tramping all around my compartment.

Well, I thought. So much for being buried alive.

The music had come from a round device that looked like a makeup compact. The thing had a lot of confusing buttons on it. I couldn't tell what was what. When I opened it, I found myself staring at a bearded brunette with a furry neck, in a round room with walls patterned like a purple rattlesnake. I guessed this to be some kind of video chat system.

The man sat

"David?" the man said a little too loudly.

I pressed my finger to my lips.

"Who are you?" he asked, but I just shushed him, pointing up.

I pantomimed being choked, shaking my head.

The man frowned, and I saw his hands doing something off screen.

A second later, words appeared on the screen next to his face.

 _Are you in danger?_

I nodded.

 _Should I call emergency services?_

I slowly shook my head.

 _Do you know how to use a Pelmobad?_

I shook my head again.

Above me the men kept mumbling, stomping around, banging on the floor.

 _Where is David?_ said the message on the screen.

I'm not that good at pantomime. The only thing I could think of was spreading my fingers and putting them over my face, and the screen, like bars.

 _He's been attacked by an alien face hugger._

I gave him a nonverbal no.

 _He's in jail?_

I nodded. Close enough.

 _What did he do?_

I just sighed.

The noise above the compartment lessened somewhat. I guess they couldn't figure out the compartment.

One good thing about the device. It provided illumination. I could, for example, read the copy of _The Sorcerer's Stone_ beside my head if I wanted.

I searched around in the clutter for something to get me out.

I found a gun. A real life firearm.

The moment my hand closed around the handle, I heard the man hissing, "Shit! Put that back!"

The boots above got agitated. I thought for sure I'd be discovered.

I mouthed no.

 _Where are your parents?_ said the text.

I shook my head.

The gun was empty. I didn't see any bullets.

 _Where are you? How did you get this_ Pelmobad?

I raised a finger to signal `one moment.'

The sounds faded once more.

I held the device to my mouth, whispering answers to his questions.

Then I waited for the boots to come back.

I heard Sarah scream, and the whole ship became silent.

I held back a sob. I couldn't have helped her if I wanted. I didn't even know how to get out of the compartment.

I waited a few more minutes, just to be safe, then spoke freely. "Who are you?"

"I'm Matt Gannon. You?"

I told him.

A gray faced woman appeared on the screen, nuzzling against his neck. Her body looked fuzzy too. "Who is this, wusudamuqegu?"

"David's friend, apparently." He gave me an apologetic smile. "Would you like me to send a ship to your location?"

"I don't know," I said. "They have drones and machine guns."

He scowled. "That... _sounds a little difficult_. I'm not a general or anything. I'm technically not even royalty..."

I sighed. "Does this gun have bullets?"

"I don't know. I wasn't even aware that he _had_ a gun! _You know we're Christian._ We don't kill people over our possessions and stuff. Not when we have treasure in heaven. Zadoori is a real stickler over that."

"Who's Zadoori?"

Matt looked worried. "You haven't seen him?"

I shook my head.

The compartment was getting hot from my breath, and stuffy from the carbon dioxide of my exhalations. Something had to be done, and relatively soon.

"Do you know how I can get out of this compartment?"

Matt frowned, pushing buttons. "I'm going to do a search for the Quidsy 385 operator's manual. This might take awhile."

So I waited while he tapped buttons. "How did David and Pillow meet?"

"It's funny," Matt said. "We were out Grunkiahu riding, and he fractured his leg. Or maybe it was his tailbone. At any rate, he ended up in the hospital, being treated by her. She'd joined the church just a day before David was admitted. I hear, after they released him, he hung around the hospital for a few days, bugging her until she went out with him."

"Can this ship fly?"

The question made him frown. "I...don't know. From what you told me, I kinda don't think so...did you even see a place to fly it out _through?_ "

"No."

"Gleenzag?" the gray one asked him, rubbing up against his body.

"Dista," Matt groaned. "I just woke up!"

"That is also when _it_ wakes up." Her voice never once changed inflection or tone, almost like a robot.

He stared at her for a moment. "You're right, but it's going to have to wait. This kid's in trouble. Why don't you take a cold shower or something?"

She sighed and nodded. "I am proud to have you as husband, Wusu butt."

"Dista," Matt scolded. "What did I tell you about using Quana's thing? You know how that makes me feel."

"I am very sorry. I only wished to make you as happy as you were when geigy Quana was alive."

"She _is_ alive, Dista. She's in heaven. In Chisda, right now."

Dista nodded, rubbing Matt's shoulder. "You should not point the Pelmobad downward. She will know you are unclothed from the waist down."

Matt blushed. " _Go take your shower, Dista._ "

His companion hurried away.

" _Hua kigo_ ," Matt said. "I'm sorry."

"I don't care what you're wearing," I said. "Just help me out of here."

Matt gave me a grim nod, urgently punching buttons.

A diagram of a room appeared on the screen.

"` _The Teegsug, or weapons compartment, is a feature of all Quidsy 385's..._ '" he read. "Like the Jeep or the Humvee, they ported these vehicles over to the private commercial sector, with some of their military features intact. _`It is not advised for children to play on or around the Teegsug._ '

"Here it is! _`Child Safety Release Latch: In case of exterior button failure, child must strike activation panel and pull release ring located on panel three of Teegsug. If child does not own a tail, feet may be used to undo lever.'"_

Behind a book by Oswald Chambers, I found a panel. I kicked it, and a panel slid aside, revealing a ring, set flush into the wall.

The problem was, I needed to do more than just pop it out.

I sandwiched the ring between my shoes and tugged, but it didn't seem to be enough. It kept sliding out.

"Abreyas have thumbs on their feet," Matt said. "And their shoes. I wish there was more I could do to help, but it's all analog, you know, _in case the power goes out._ "

There wasn't room to bend over, but I _could_ fold my legs a little, enough to pull off both shoes.

I wiggled my toes into the ring and pulled really hard. It didn't hurt as much as I thought it would.

It took me a great deal of effort, but I at last heard a pop, and the lid flew off. I sat upright, taking in deep breaths of fresh air.

"Praise God," Matt said. "Bravo, kid! Now if you can only escape from that jail!"

Stuffing the pistol into my scrubs, I dug through the drawers along the walls, searching for the bullets, but only found books, doll making kits, gospel music, oddly shaped lingerie, some rings and toys that looked obscene, and a sort of egg that exploded into something like underarm deodorant when I played with it.

"That doesn't look like a saddle for a horse," I remarked.

"It doesn't look like a saddle for a Grunkiahu, either, _but that's its alleged purpose._ Trust me, _you don't want to know what it's really used for._ "

"What's a Grunkiahu?"

"It's...kind of a _bird_ , but they're the size of horses and you can ride on them. Actually, _fly on them_ , if you want to get technical. They're really beautiful creatures."

I crept around the ship, searching for Sarah.

I found her, all right, but Mr. Bishop and his soldiers were already dragging her away, kicking and screaming, to whatever lab she'd escaped from.

I sucked in my breath, ducking behind the Venus flytrap.

"What's going on?" I heard Matt asking.

"Shh!" I held the device slightly above the couch so I could see what had happened.

"Shit," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

I ducked back down, holding my breath.

The device was still on. When my fuzzy acquaintance noticed the state of his friend's spaceship, he cried, "They tore out the Hiarfamas!"

Bishop's head turned. I stuffed the device in my armpit to maintain the silence.

The android looked straight ahead again.

I waited silently for a few minutes, until they at last left the hangar, and the door clicked shut.

"How do I shut you off?" I said to the device.

"That's pretty rude for someone that just saved your life."

"Sorry," I said. "I'm grateful, but you almost got me caught. Can you please tell me how to use this thing?"

"There's a helpful instructional video," he said. "But it's completely in Wava. I guess I'll have to walk you through it."

I crept back into the saddle room, watching him give a demonstration with a second device. After the basics, he showed me some technical things, to the point where I lost patience. "I don't have forever," I snapped. "My friends need me."

"All right. Let me at least show you how to contact me."

I took a pen and paper out of a drawer, writing down the complicated symbols. "Thank you. It's been nice." I shut it off.

Sarah's ladder had been left undisturbed. This made me uneasy. Still, I had no other good way to get out otherwise, so I jumped up and climbed back into the vent.

I pulled the ladder back up, just to protect myself, not that it would do any good to conceal our little avenue into the place.

After crawling back to the junction we originally came from, I stopped, glancing back and forth in frustration.

I had no idea where to go. Sarah's scent took me all over.

An enclosed scrap yard with a ceiling.

An indoor pool.

A bathroom.

A room containing an epileptic Sarah clone, currently in the throes of convulsions.

A room full of boxes upon boxes of girl's toys, stuffed animals, and clothing.

A den with leather chairs, a fancy desk, and giant bookshelves.

My path ended in a hospital wing. The vent was loose, so I climbed out, nervously checking to see if I'd been spotted.

I had. A Sarah stared back at me from an open curtain in one of the wards. A second clone gawked from the window adjacent, looking just as curious. Their behavior reminded me of videos I'd seen of meerkats.

I hid behind the front desk, then backed around the opposite side when a gray haired woman in one of those white old timey nurse's outfits marched by. She appeared to be busy with paperwork, singing _Poker Face_ to herself, paying me no mind as she filed.

This proved to be an act, for a moment later I heard her singing, " _Sneaking by, sneaking by, the nurse's station..._ " to that same tune.

She carefully laid a red plastic card on the floor.

"Uh-oh!" she said in a mock dramatic voice. "Jen-Jen's badge fell on the floor! _I hope it doesn't get lost!_ " And she slid it to me with her foot.

I snatched it up right away.

" _Second floor, second floor, Ernie's on the annex side..._ " she sang, shuffling more papers.

Hoping it wasn't a trap, I ran through the double doors at the end of the wing, to an elevator.

I could smell Pillow's scent all around the place. I knew I had to go what way, even if there were cameras.

The buttons gave me an option to go up to a fifth floor, maybe higher if I had a key, as well as to basement levels and additional depths, if a different type of key was inserted.

I picked 2F, then waited for the car to slowly rise to the appropriate floor.

"I'd strongly advise against this, Ellie," Mr. Bishop said through a speaker on the wall. "You're putting the lives of you and your friends in great danger."

He found me. Because of the cameras.

"I have to do this," I said. "You wouldn't understand."

Bishop fell silent.

The doors opened on the second floor, and I rushed out in search of Pillow's trail.

I caught her scent going both directions. She walked this floor a lot, apparently. There were few places she _hadn't_ been.

I peered through a few windows, an empty cell that smelled of that lion thing we killed, a winged thing, a wolf boy.

Catching Shasharmazorb's scent around a door, I rushed to the scanner, swiping my badge.

Close.

Instead of finding Ernie, I found a small version of Shasharmazorb's species, roughly the size of a German Shepherd or other medium sized dog breed. A black, ant-like alien bug.

Toys, games and children's books filled her room. Machines monitored readings from rounded probes stuck in her head.

"Hi," the thing said to me as it scampered up to the glass. "You want to play?"

"Sorry. Maybe some other time."

She sighed in disappointment.

"What's your name?"

"Newt."

I told her mine.

The creature appeared to stare at me. "You...look like somebody I used to know."

"Friend or enemy?" I asked.

" _Both._ "

I frowned, uncertain of what to say.

"She tried to kill me. I once told Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik I wished the woman would be put in a body like mine, so she'd know how it felt."

"You're speaking _English_ ," I said. " _And these toys..._ Did you connect to a human's brain with worms?"

"It's more like _it_ connected to my human body. I used to be human once."

Would _I_ turn into one of those someday? The thought made me shudder. "Hey, I'm looking for _Ernie_. Do you know where I can find... _her?_ "

The creature's head drooped, making me feel bad, you know, because I wasn't being a friend, just kind of using her to get what I wanted. "She's in 224."

"I'm really sorry," I said. "I'd like to play, but I don't want to get caught."

She nodded. "Go. And give Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik my thanks. I love what she did with Big Blue." She pointed a claw at a stuffed dog. "I can't fit in there anymore, but it was really cool while it lasted."

"I'll be sure to tell her. If I have time."

I swiped my badge at the door.

"Good luck, Ellie."

I had a room number now, so I sprinted down the hallway, eyes searching each and every number plate for the correct sequence of digits.

Some of the prisoners shouted at me, but I ignored it. That, and the hands performing card tricks.

I swiped my badge at door 224.

It beeped, I heard a click, but the door handle wouldn't turn.

I tried it two more times. Nothing.

I kept trying, like some kind of retarded kid attempting to shove a square block through a round hole. And that's how I felt. Stupid. It made me mad.

"That's as far as you get, Ellie," Bishop's voice scolded through the door intercom. "It's time for you to return to the town."

"No," I whimpered. "I have to see Ernie!"

"I'm sorry. I can't let you see him. It will have negative effects on what we're trying to accomplish."

"Fuck you," I said. "I'm going to see him whether you like it or not!"

"No, Ellie. You aren't."

I dropped to the floor and wept.

"Listen. My men will be upstairs in a minute. I want you to be a good little girl and cooperate with them, okay?"

"Go to hell," I sobbed.

I heard him sighing. "We can do this one of two ways: the easy way or the hard way. The choice is up to you, but you'll find life much more pleasant if you don't fight us."

"What part of go to hell don't you understand!" I shouted.

"Fine. Have it your way." And he fell silent.

I cried some more.

Desperate in need of someone with a sympathetic ear, I dialed Matt.

I heard moaning. On the screen I saw a cheetah spotted body rising up and down on a brown and cream colored one.

At first, I thought I had misdialed, but then I noticed the `cheetah' had a gray face, and it kept saying things like, "Guep," "Wusu," "Loex," and "Oh yes, please."

The view of the room shifted, and Matt's face appeared, making all sorts of contortions in response to the female's distracting activities.

When his eyes focused on me, they widened, and he barked at Dista to stop.

She didn't until he yelled and pointed at me.

Dista responded by lying on his chest, giving me a smile.

"What's the matter?" he said to me. "You look _sad!_ "

With tears in my eyes, I told him what happened.

With a frown, he pushed Dista off him, and punched a bunch of buttons. "This is going to be tricky. In order for this to work, you'll need to press your Pelmobad against the scanner when I say when."

I heard elevator doors opening down the hall. "Hurry!"

The elevator door opened a crack, revealing a white suited figure.

"Now!"

Without hesitation, I jumped to my feet, slapping the device to the panel.

The light turned from red to green. The door mechanism clicked.

Two men stepped out of the elevator. In a second they would find me.

I heard shouts and bootsteps, saw glimpses of white uniforms in motion. I turned the handle and at last dove inside the room.

An observation chamber, just like the one Newt had, with computers monitoring Ernie's brain activity. As the door clicked shut, saw the corresponding lobes of the alien's brain lighting up. Audio processing centers.

I found the cameras and a transmitter, the method they had used to `Facetime' Ernie to me on that little box in the hotel.

The room held benches, modern chairs, and a coffee machine. The seats faced a reinforced glass wall, beyond which I could see a black insectoid creature, similar to Shasharmazorb, but smaller, with probes stuck in its head.

Someone had provided it with cabinets full of craft supplies and a work table, a tablet computer and a small library of books.

Hearing footsteps outside the door, I glanced anxiously at the device. "I'm in. Is there some way you can lock these guys out?"

The face on the device frowned. "I can try. Hold the Pelmobad to the security panel."

I did, and the light above it suddenly changed from red to a flickering yellow-red.

"I bought you a few minutes," Matt said. "Once they swipe their badge a few times, it'll go back to normal. It's the best I can do."

"Thank you."

So once they tried to get in, I'd be screwed.

I would have mere seconds to get the help I so desperately needed.

I pulled my chair up to the glass, giving the bug creature a nervous smile.

"You kept your promise," said the monster.

I nodded. "I'm ready to share my burden."

[00000]

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000810020257204: "Diary of Pillow Barnes" (Cont'd)

* * *

[00000]

After I finished committing all those hurtful lies about my imaginary affair to paper, setting it in the designated tray before the camera, a single sentence appeared on the television monitor:

 _Thank you for your cooperation._

The door to the egg room clicked open.

My egg is dark purple, splotched with pink. The surface is slick and bumpy, only a few inches larger than a human baby. Still, it's big. It's hard to believe something that size came out of my own body.

The scientists built an incubator for it, nothing more than an enlarged version of the one they use to hatch chickens. I preferred the one from my ship, a beautiful designer model that set me and David back a lot of money. It has a more sophisticated temperature regulator, sound stimulators, massagers...Transparent windows run along the sides, as well as places where a mother can place her hand, for that much needed `human' contact. The people in charge let me have it, along with my egg warming cushion, one of the few family related concessions they were actually okay with.

After removing a few monitors from the surface of the shell, I disrobed, placed my egg on the cushion, enveloping it in my warm fur as I listened to the baby's heartbeat. My tears rolled down its mottled surface as I thought about how I betrayed my husband.

Parents traditionally `sing' to their eggs. To a human, it sounds like whale song.

"Careful," David said when I first started doing it. "Keep making sounds like that, and you'll end up looking like one."

I got offended, we had an argument about my weight. He ended up saying he'd still find me attractive at whale size.

Shortly after, _he_ was singing during egg warming. Of course, he just sang normally, hymns and rock songs, that kind of thing.

I thought about this as I gently rocked my egg, croaking out _How Firm A Foundation_.

And then my hour was up.

I dressed, dried my eyes, returned to 2F.

The unseen person had requested a replacement meal, so I brought it up with me in a little styrofoam container. She annoyed me, though, so I took my time.

As I passed room 206, a voice called, "It's not going to be in a library. The book."

I glanced at the backwards legs through the security window. "Then what makes you think I can find it?"

"You're right," this individual groaned. "Forget it."

"What's so important about the book anyway?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"I'm an alien," I said. "Try me."

"It's got magic spells in it."

I laughed. "Have a nice day."

"Asshole."

I stopped at 205 next, digging the note out my pocket.

I couldn't read Korean, but it seemed harmless enough. I wasn't handing out hacksaws or anything, just honoring a request.

I stepped into the room, facing the dirty glass window. "Uh...I'm...a friend of Song."

Scales moved past the dirty film. I heard a low growl.

"If you're a friend," a low rumbling voice replied. "You'd help us get out of here."

"I can't do that," I said. "My children are being held prisoner."

"Let me out, and I'll free them."

I squinted at the caked on slime, trying to gauge the creature's honesty. "I'm sorry. I can't."

"You don't trust me, or you don't believe I can?"

"Both." I shoved the paper through the food slot. "Perhaps tomorrow we can talk about something reasonable."

I hurried away from there.

"Hey! _Arimadex graduate!_ " Ippi called as I passed her cell. "Find a way out of here yet?"

"No," I answered. "Sorry."

Arimadex is the Harvard of my world. The comment was meant to be insulting.

I arrived at the cell of the finicky unseen person.

"About time!" the voice complained. "Another hour, and I'd probably be a _real ghost_!"

I pushed the tray through the slot. I couldn't see what happened to it after that.

"Your name is Pillow, right?" the voice said. "Any relation to Michael Jackson?"

I groaned. _"What do you think?"_

The voice laughed. "Hey, he had a _Blanket_. Can't say I didn't ask."

Silence.

"What the fuck is this? I asked for yogurt with granola and an apple cinnamon bagel!"

"Sorry," I said. "They only had the cheese kind, and fruit cups."

A bunch of red grapes pelted the window. I never saw who or what threw them.

I sighed and walked away.

I pulled Mr. Magic's playing card out of my pocket, frowning at the number.

Same floor, I thought as I approached the room. Wouldn't hurt just to pass by and see what's there.

Empty prison cell.

I swiped my badge, entered, checking around to make sure.

Nothing.

When I turned to leave, I found a yellow tophat lying upside down in the center of the room. Somehow it had escaped my attention.

Inside the hat I found a thumb drive.

When I took it back to my room and put it in my computer, I saw something that made me feel even worse than I did before.

Those sick children I visited every day? They had been _made_ sick.

Someone injected cancer and AIDS into perfectly healthy children.

And there I was holding their hands, convincing them to accept their fate.

I clenched my fists in anger, but what could I really do? One false move, and I could lose everything.

[00000]

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611602

(Elle's Journal - Cont'd)

* * *

[00000]

I confessed everything. The whole incident with the dead burglar. There might have been cameras, but I desperately needed help.

Ernie made sympathetic noises, like a parent looking at a child's skinned knee.

After saying everything that needed to be said, I waited for the creature's response.

The silence felt like forever.

The door beeped as the men tried to get in.

" _Please_ say something," I pleaded. "I brought you my burden, now help me!"

"Child," Ernie said. "Are you _sincerely sorry_ you killed that man?"

I didn't hesitate. Not a day had gone by in which I hadn't felt remorse for what I did. "Yes. It's something I wish I had never done." A sob crept into my voice. "And I can never take it back!"

"The Lord Jesus forgives you, Ellie. He has taken the burden of your sins to the cross on Calvary. Although he died thousands of years ago, he's the son of God. He knew of the evil you would one day commit, and he suffered on your behalf."

My eyes became bleary with tears. "He didn't care that I'm a clone?"

"I'm a _space alien_ ," Ernie said. "Jesus is Lord over the entire universe. If he can forgive a murdering Ss'sik'chtokiwij such as myself, he can forgive anyone. Jesus is still alive, Ellie, would you like to know him better?"

I nodded eagerly. "Yes, please."

I had just accepted Jesus into my life when the door clicked open, and uniformed men came stomping in.

I pulled out the gun, aiming at a well muscled brunette with a crew cut. The gun was empty, but _they_ didn't know that.

Ernie didn't either, apparently. "Don't do this, child. You must _forgive_ your enemy. _Love_ your enemy, as Jesus loved you."

The soldier's companion was fat faced, and had glasses. When he moved, I pulled back the hammer on the gun. "Stay where you are."

"Is that David's pistol?" Ernie asked.

I shrugged. "Yeah? Why."

I saw the ghost of a smirk appear on her face. "It is a very dangerous weapon. The bullets can completely destroy a human head, even when mis-aimed at the chest or the lower extremity. Even a _child_ could do catastrophic damage without meaning to."

The two backed away in alarm.

Ernie's head turned my way. "Be wary of what your body is telling you. You do not fully understand your own strength, or your weaknesses."

"What do you mean?" I said, a little indignant.

"Your flesh is at war with your spirit. Judging by your scent, I believe the flesh may someday blind you, and burden your conscience once more."

"Another death?" I stammered.

The alien nodded. "Whatever has been done to you, I believe there will be a temptation. You must resist it, seek the Lord in prayer, so you do not repeat my mistakes."

"What mistakes?" I asked, but the men took advantage of my distraction, spraying me in the face with something that made me sleepy.

"There is a time and place for reproduction," Ernie said as my vision blurred. "Without the cost of human life. You must wait for it."

Why would I need to kill to reproduce? I thought. But by then my mind filled with the gray fog of somnolence.

I awoke in a bed in a musty smelling room with green walls. Dusty, cluttered with junk, like someone's attic.

Old sloppily varnished furniture, uninspired rummage sale paintings of cowboys and mountainscapes, the gaudy lamps, bicycle parts and ceramics of questionable value. I stared at my surroundings, wondering if TV's Fred Sanford lived there.

I checked the pockets of my scrubs. The men had confiscated everything.

I sat up, breaking a cheap vase in the process.

Hearing scampering and rustling noises, I glanced at the corner of the room just in time to see a scaly tail disappearing behind a mimeograph machine.

A pair of beady eyes peered furtively at me from behind a pair of creepy ceramic dolls. A hairy black body jostled a pipe rack, knocking an ash filled corncob style to the floor with a noisy clatter. The pipe next to it, a faux calabash with a curving stem, wobbled uncertainly in its little slot.

The wild unfriendly looking creatures bared yellow fangs dripping with white saliva.

Rabies, I assumed.

Not wanting to fall over and foam at the mouth, I picked up an iron fireplace poker, creeping toward the door.

The floorboards creaked unpleasantly beneath my feet. The window panes rattled.

I heard a sound like footsteps in the hall. The floor groaned.

A rat came near, but I batted it away, causing it to retreat to a safer distance, at least, for a moment.

I saw nobody in the hallway, just a lot of clutter.

The wallpaper was faded and peeling, a greenish yellow print that looked like staring eyes, accented by a badly framed reproduction of Gainsborough's _Blue Boy_ and a windmill in a similarly garish frame.

Across from me stood a closed white door with a decorative boat wheel propped up against it. A rotary dial telephone stood on a small lopsided white table with peeling legs, and, leaning on the wall, a framed print of deer grazing by a river.

I swung at a pair of rats coming at me from behind. They didn't retreat as much as I would have liked.

The phone rang.

I hesitated to answer. It was the style of phone nobody used anymore, and I didn't have anyone I wanted to talk to, at least, not on _that_. It could be a ghost, or some creepy government guy.

Still, I considered, what if David or someone else found a phone? Or Ernie?

The moment I picked up the receiver, the white door burst open, and a rat the size of a Newfoundland dog appeared, hissing and baring its teeth.

I raised the poker, but as it did, the rat's cheeks and throat swelled, projectile vomiting sticky white foam all over me.

I rammed the poker down its gullet, but its teeth hammered down on my arm as it died, and I had to pry its mouth apart to escape its clutches.

I staggered backwards, collapsing on the floor.

I convulsed, foaming at the mouth as the beast's smaller cousins encircled me.

[00000]

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000810020257204: "Diary of Pillow Barnes" (Cont'd)

* * *

[00000]

Hearing a soft scraping noise, I glanced back at the table I'd placed the hat upon.

A white rabbit's head popped out from inside the yellow brim, wiggling its nose.

How was this possible? The prisoner in yellow was still in his cell!

...Or was he?

[00000]

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611602

(Elle's Journal - Cont'd)

* * *

[00000]

My eyelids cracked open, revealing a brilliant light.

My pupils focused. I had been stretched out in a comfortable padded chair, facing a huge telescope.

A wonderful kind of little observatory surrounded me, one with a hammock bed and an art studio.

Father always discouraged me from doing art. He said it was a waste of time, that nobody in the real world needed artists - there were too many of them. It was no place to start a career.

I'd make him Father's Day cards, then pretend not to notice when he tossed them into the trash a day later, but I still loved art.

Who lived in this place? It was everything I'd ever wanted in a house.

When I got up, I discovered an actual waterslide had been built into the wall, and, in the wall opposite, a _roller coaster car_!

I rubbed my eyes, wondering when this wonderful dream would end.

I looked down. To my delight, I found myself garbed in a silky white kimono, with beautiful images of cranes embroidered into it.

A Cairn Terrier nuzzled my leg. I always wanted a dog. Well, as long as it didn't look like that thing that bit me.

Hearing a commotion below me, I followed a spiral staircase into a big library filled with all manner of interesting books. I would have thumbed through a couple, but I wanted to investigate the noise first.

I found a den in the midst of these bookshelves, full of fine leather furniture, elegant tables, it even had a fireplace.

The crowd, not the decor fascinated me the most about this place. The moment I came close, they welcomed me, introducing me to all kinds of people, _and creatures_.

Shauqauzjarruba, Ernie's daughter, neck wrapped in a Christmas scarf. Maria, a white bug thing of Ernie's species, and a good friend of hers, apparently. There was Pain, Aquila, and a big scary looking monster that looked like queen Shasharmazorb. Her name was S'Caizlixadac Moyssuwoha, Ernie's mother.

Then there were the Sarahs, and me's. Children with identical faces and hair color, differentiated only by birthmarks and funny haircuts.

These things unsettled me, but I didn't get scared until I saw Morse and Shelly.

"You're dead," I told the man. "I saw you die."

"Through Christ, I have been made alive," he answered.

"Welcome to heaven," Shelly added.

I staggered away from her. "I'm...dead? That's what this is? I'm dead and this is heaven?"

"You have gone into _cardiac arrest_ ," said a voice behind me.

I spun around and saw a short haired man with Middle Eastern features, clad in jeans and a t-shirt.

I furrowed my brow, trying to identify him. "Who are you?"

"The one you just welcomed into your heart," he said.

That's when I noticed the nail holes in his wrists.

I kinda wanted to hug him, but didn't know if I should. "Thank you. I'm...glad to meet you."

I stared at the funny moose head on the wall behind him, one with antlers bent like the one on _the Addams Family_. "Whose house is this?"

"Yours," Jesus said.

"Mine?" I stammered. "This is _mine?_ "

He smiled. "In my word, I have promised to prepare a home for my children. This one is yours."

"Child of God," I muttered. "So when do I reincarnate into my next life?"

I know, dumb question, but in my defense, my parents really didn't explain those things to me. They didn't tell me much about _him_ , either.

"You don't. This is the only _next life_ you will ever have. With me."

"If we don't have past lives, what are those people doing back at the program? They keep asking me for repressed memories."

"They are searching for something that doesn't exist."

"Some people say _you_ don't exist."

"Are _you_ one of those people?" he asked.

I reddened, suddenly feeling ashamed at my disrespect. "No."

The look on his face seemed to say, " _Well then._ "

"So I'm never going to have the memories they want me to have."

"Not in the way they wish."

The dog had followed me downstairs. I picked it up and petted it, mostly to calm my nerves.

"So that's it, then. I _died_ , and I'm going to spend the rest of... _forever_ here, in this place."

"Would this displease you?"

I took a look at the strange but friendly faces surrounding me. I imagined they could be good friends. And if the rest of heaven is as fantastic as my house...

"No..."

"Then here you will stay," he said. "But not yet. Your cardiac arrest is only temporary."

"It sounds like I'll be back here in a couple minutes," I said. "Once they find out I can't remember, they'll kill me."

Jesus put his hand on my shoulder. " _I will be with you._ "

Suddenly everything became light and foggy. I felt like I were drifting away.

"Can you at least help me escape _that place_? That prison?"

"My grace is sufficient for you."

Things got foggier. "Wait. Where's Lacey?"

The fog cleared before I could get an answer.

When the fog cleared, I found myself sprawled face down on the floor of that old house.

I coughed, then threw up right next to the giant dead thing.

The acid tore a hole in the mildewy carpeting, eating through the crooked weather bent boards beneath.

 _My stomach acid._

 _Did that._

When I sat up, I found myself surrounded by rats.

They stood motionless in attention, tiny eyes fixed on me, like little druids around a stone god.


	11. Chapter 11: Papa John

The house had cameras on ceiling, but their lens barrels faced the walls and their lights were off. I seemed to be the sole witness of this supernatural oddity.

I staggered to my feet, expecting to be unwell, dying, unable to walk, but I felt fine.

Instead of attacking, the rats only turned their heads to follow my movements, twitching their whiskers.

On a program I watched about Daniel in the Lion's Den, scientist guys said the lions may had something wrong with their teeth, or stomach problems.

I'm not sure what made the sick rodents freeze up around me. You might say it had something to do with me being infected, or some genetic thing resulting from scientists playing Frankenstein.

Say what you want, but I think God did it, and, whether or not you believe I really went to heaven, this was a miracle.

Knowing I'd have to go through the rats to get back to my friends, I took a step toward the edge of their ring, one facing a shoddy looking staircase railing at the end of the hallway.

All the rodents scampered off into the woodwork, like completely normal wild animals fleeing from a human.

I wasted no time getting away, rushing down a narrow stairwell to a cramped foyer with a clogged umbrella stand and a hideous badly painted wardrobe, one door danging open to display an old green army uniform.

I unlocked the deadbolt on the front door, taking a good look at the world outside.

Beyond the rotting porch and flaking paint, everything was dead, a brown rumpled landscape of arid soil, like someone had attempted to farm, but had forgotten the water.

Off to my left, I could see a copse of trees and a wall with razor wire at the top. The muezzin call told me I'd returned to Learning Town.

Directly ahead, across the field, stood a pair of raised concrete stages, and a pond surrounded by weeds. A path led up from there, to a place that looked like gun alley. To my right, a wasteland extending into the far distance, the tiny square shapes of office buildings barely visible on the horizon.

I _had_ cross that wasteland. If I could find civilization, a _real city_ , maybe find someone _normal_ who could help me and my friends...

The moment I stepped out on those creaking boards, a rat scurried past my leg, zooming down the weathered steps.

Worried that something were after me, I glanced back, but saw nothing.

About three yards away from the house, the rat let out a frightened squeak, then exploded, a disproportionately large detonation, the creature's blood and guts a mere squirt of red in a huge shower of rocks and brown dirt.

Land mines. That was the game.

I imagined the people in charge wanted me to use my special abilities to dodge the explosives, or maybe walk over them, so they can see if I'll survive.

Forget that, I thought. I'm going to clean house.

I hurled a Bing Crosby record over the right end of the porch, then several VHS tapes, a Buddy Lee doll, and a heavy stuffed pillow made to look like a duck.

The mine blew the items to bits, scattering pieces in every direction. For an encore, I threw sofa cushions, which are a lot heavier than they look.

More items followed. I pretended it was that cup game from the Bozo show, tossing objects in a straight line from the defused explosive, trying to get the proper distance to set off another without being injured by debris.

It became sort of a strange relay race, me running back and forth from the house to the last exploded mine, to blow something else up. A genie bottle shaped lamp, a cheap landscape painting, and other generic framed prints, a snow globe, a ceramic Elvis, beer steins.

A bag of cat litter exploded in a big gray cloud.

Cat litter, but no cats. I guess the rats ate them.

The rusty tractor seat was the best one of all. I hit the mine dead center.

When I threw an end table, it somehow it landed on its feet. That in itself, while amazing, was not as amazing as the fact that it still hit a mine and exploded.

I allowed myself a wide berth. The thoroughness took extra time, but I couldn't help it. I simply had no other way around.

A mound of boots, a tin coffee pot, several encyclopedias and a bag of potting soil later, I reached the end of the minefield.

To be absolutely sure, I threw a Pith helmet, gardening tools and a VCR in that direction, but saw no tell-tale `gopher mounds', nothing to indicate I'd found an inactive mine (I found a few of those already).

I was there! The actual wasteland! All I had to do now was walk.

I must have marched across that cracked unchanging landscape for hours. I was tired, thirsty, and I had bile clinging to the lining of my mouth.

Why was I even alive? Was there something in my immune system that helped me recover from...rabies or whatever it was?

Don't get me wrong, I still held it to be miraculous, but I existed in a world of physics and chemistry, and people always want more of an explanation than `Duh, God did it.'

Hearing a whirring noise, I turned to see a ball rolling toward me.

At first, it seemed like nothing but a gray marble. I couldn't tell what I was looking at.

But then it zoomed closer.

It reminded me of one of those vibrating back massagers, all covered in bumps. It thrummed louder and louder as it rolled along the ground.

The bumps were metal, explaining in part why the green purple gelatin stuff inside it didn't pick up all the dirt and rocks it rolled over.

When it grew to the size of a boulder, it was too late for me to run away. I ran, faked right and left, but the thing moved as fast as a car. It followed me, almost as if it had some sort of rudimentary intelligence.

I could only scream as it barreled over me like a semi.

Something like a mouth opened on the thing, and I got sucked up into a gelatinous _womb_ of sorts.

The air inside smelled like the chemicals the use in computer component packaging, and it got stuffy awfully fast.

The thing sucked me into its core and rolled through the wasteland.

In no time at all, I was entering Learning Town. For some reason the automatic guns ignored the ball and let me pass unharmed.

The ball came to a stop between the post office and the library, inside a circle of men with masks and El Buraq uniforms.

Their leader casually reached into the ball, yanking me out by my arm.

As I lay on the ground, gasping for air, the man pulled off his mask.

The color drained from my face.

It was the burglar.

The one I murdered.

"But you're dead!" I cried. "I killed you! You're buried in my parents' basement!"

With a wry smirk, the man raised his forearm, showing me a bar code.

He was a clone!

 _"They told me to be extra careful around you,"_ he said. _"Perhaps this warning wasn't unjustified."_

One of his companions handed me a shovel.

"We've got some... _bodies_ for you to take care of. It should be a piece of cake for a _professional_ such as yourself."

I whimpered, afraid to even ask who I'd be burying...or why.

The burglar put his mask back on, and I was led by gunpoint to the gazebo, where a row of bodies lay next to a single hole, dug by a lone figure in fuchsia.

David's wounded legs still gave him trouble, as I could tell by the pained expressions on his face, but he still somehow managed to stand and dig.

Kamara, Jeff, Amy and Sarah, still alive, knelt on prayer mats, facing east. Lacethanny snored on the ground next to Sarah, and Golic was nowhere to be found.

Unsurprisingly, the men wanted us to bury Lacy, Anthony, Morse and Shelly. It was a relief, perhaps even a pleasure, to finally give them a decent burial. The men pointed to a spot, and I commenced digging.

The moment my shovel penetrated the dry dirt, I thought about the man I killed.

The soil was the same exact texture. Hard, dusty, unsuitable for plants. My shovel chipped at the ground.

I had seen the burglar die.

Cloned or not, no one, even an injured man, could lay still for that long, and let me pile dirt on top of him like that.

It went up his nostrils. Into his mouth. I watched a fly crawl right under his eyelid.

I deserved to go to hell for what I did.

I killed a human being.

Even if he was a clone, it didn't matter. _I'm_ a clone.

Jesus forgives me. Ernie told me this. When I died, Jesus didn't say anything about the man I murdered.

While this made my heart less heavy, and made me more peaceful than I have for some time, it still doesn't erase regret. The emotion. The memories.

As Morse said, you still saw their faces when you closed your eyes.

So far I made it only about two feet down. I was working a square, trying to make room for the largest body.

The man was right. I knew what I was doing.

The burglar took out a radio, talking into it. "Agent Eight to base." And then, in Arabic, " _Walkhutat jaria. Thmaynt'iilaa quaediat thueban."_

The radio crackled something, and he put it away.

I guessed the man's codename was Eight.

I uncovered a rock, tossed it on the dirt pile.

"A young kid like you shouldn't have to do something like this," David called from the other grave.

I no longer feared people knowing my secret. God knew, Jesus knew, and I was forgiven.

"It's okay," I grunted, making my way to three feet. _"I've done this before."_

This made him fall silent for a moment.

I glanced back at the others. They only feigned prayer, but it seemed to be enough to appease our enemy, even with Jeff snoring in the dust. I scooped another mound of dirt.

"David, you need to marry Sarah," I said.

He groaned. "They got to you, didn't they?"

"No," I said. "I spoke to _Pillow_. This marriage is the only way she can keep her children."

David stopped shoveling. "And that's the honest truth?"

I nodded. "I wouldn't lie to you."

"No talking!" Eight yelled, waving his gun.

"Shut up and dig!" shouted one of his masked companions.

After a few more minutes (as David had been digging for some time before I arrived) one hole had become sufficiently deep, and Anthony got tossed in without so much as a prayer. The men told _me_ to cover him up while David started a new one. David asked to finish mine instead, but they refused to acknowledge the request.

I filled Anthony's grave, then resumed digging where I left off.

"Do you have any idea why they care if you marry?" I asked David.

He shrugged, shoveling another mound. "Call me old fashioned, but I take marriage very seriously. To me it's a permanent commitment, romantically, economically, and _sexually_. It's obvious somebody knows that, or else they wouldn't be playing this game with me."

The men yelled at us to be quiet. We obeyed until their attention lapsed, focusing on barking orders to our friends on the prayer mats.

"David," I said. "You already slept with her."

"That doesn't make it right."

After a few minutes of silent digging, I said, " _No one says you have to sleep with her again."_

David just frowned and shoveled.

I heard a loud animal gurgling noise, weirdly distorted, as if the sound had been conveyed through a tin can phone. It seemed the octopus thing I stabbed wasn't quite dead.

"You shouldn't have to do this, Ellie," David repeated. "I mean, Morse...Shelly...they were good people..."

"It's okay," I said. "I saw them in heaven."

David smirked a little and sighed like I were just being cute.

"I'm not joking. I _died_. I went to heaven and actually _saw_ them."

David sadly shook his head. _"Nice try."_

The hours passed, Eight's men alternating between coaching my friends on Muslim prayer and ordering us around.

I uncovered a skeletal human hand, and the attached radius and ulna. I tried to dig around it, but one of the men just grabbed the shovel away from me and drove right through it like it were just another worthless pile of dirt. It seemed people had been doing this same kind of thing for quite some time.

The crumbs I had given David only kept him going so long. He tired out about five feet down, and the men shouted for him to keep digging.

When he didn't move, they pointed their guns, shot a bullet in the dirt behind him.

"What now?" David cried. "You want to tell me that we have a failure to communicate?"

"You are very stubborn, Mr. Barnes," said Eight.

"Thank you."

The man responded by clubbing him with the butt of his gun.

When David didn't get up, they beat him some more, but he didn't move, so they dragged him out of the hole, commanding me to finish up the grave.

They tossed Shelly in like a piece of garbage. As I filled the hole, I focused my thoughts on how happy she looked when she was in my heaven house, with Jesus.

David sighed as the bullet riddled corpse disappeared under the soil.

"When I told her I'd been to alien planets and married a space alien, she told me that UFO stories and science fiction were lies made up by the devil to explain away the rapture."

"What about Lacethanny?" I asked. "What did she say after all that?"

" _`During the endtimes, you'll be amazed at what kinds of things come crawling out of hell.'_ "

He muttered a prayer and tossed a handful of dirt over her.

I filled the gap between her leg mound and the surrounding dirt. "She must have been surprised to see Ernie's family."

David didn't comment. He just lay on the ground, looking miserable.

The men ordered Sarah, Amy and Jeff to dig. Jeff kicked David in the ribs as he went for the shovel.

" _You didn't have to be so nice..._ " David half sang, half croaked. " _I would have liked you anyway..._ "

"Up your ass, Barnes."

David groaned and sat up. Eight took this as his cue to ram a shovel into the dirt between David's legs.

"I surrender," David cried. "Isn't that the meaning of Islam?"

"It's _submission_!" Eight snapped.

"Fine. Submission. You guys are the ones who want me to marry Sarah, aren't you? _You win. I'll do it."_

Teary with happiness, Sarah knelt down and kissed David on the mouth, but he pushed her away. "All right. Quit it. I'm... _not in the mood._ "

In response to this turn of events, Eight only said, "Bury the rest of these bodies." But his tone of voice seemed gentler somehow.

David tried to help the others dig a little, but he was exhausted and couldn't move more than a couple mounds of dirt without taking a long rest. The men, having run out of shovels, threw Jeff down into the hole to help. I listened to them as I worked nearby.

"Barnes," Jeff snarled, shoveling at a rapid pace to get done quicker. "If you're still in here when I'm finished, I swear to God I'll bury you with that bony assed convict."

David leaned against the dirt wall, catching his breath. "Take it easy. How do you know you're not digging your own grave?"

This made Jeff slow somewhat. "What's so damn important about you marrying?"

David sighed. "My only guess is that these people want to use my alien children for some military project, and they want their pacifist father out of the way."

"No talking!" the men yelled.

Instead of complying, Jeff talked and shoveled at the same time. "Shit, if your kids can put these masked fuckers into the dirt, you should be _happy_ to have them in basic training."

"You know what I think?" David said. "I think this is all a setup. To convince me of that very thing."

Jeff moved more dirt. "You're saying it's staged?"

David nodded. "Have you taken a look at that minaret? There's nothing in it but a mannequin and a speaker system."

Finished with the hole, the two climbed out, piling dirt on top of another carelessly thrown body.

"Did I hear correctly? Are you going to finally marry that bitch?"

"What," David said. "I do what you want, and _now_ you start calling her names?"

"Jesus, Barnes. If you really tie the knot and get us the hell out of here, I'll call her whatever the fuck you want!"

"Hey!" a man called. "That grave can easily fit two. Or _three_ , if necessary."

But a couple minutes later, David was talking again.

"If someone told me about the children, I would have agreed to this thing a lot sooner."

Jeff patted him on the back. "I got two of my own. A boy and a girl."

"So you believe I have children?"

"David, I just saw a _thing_ explode out of a guy's chest, and fucking talk to me. If that doesn't prove the existence of life on other planets, I don't know what does. Still, you _have_ to marry the retard. It's the only way."

David just sighed.

We filled all the graves. Eight, apparently satisfied with our work, called someone on the radio.

"Eight to base. _Medina._ Repeat, _Medina. Tama altanfidh._ "

The radio chirped, a voice muttering something unintelligible, and the man circled his fingers in the air, a signal his friends interpreted as `Prepare your guns.'

His army chambered rounds, every one of them aiming at me and my companions.

"Wait!" David protested. "You don't even have _graves_ for any of us! They've been _filled in_ already!"

"That is an easy problem to solve."

The men opened fire.

I expected to be shot to pieces, but instead something they hit us with something like paintballs. The moment one struck my neck, I lost control of my muscles, and I fell into a kind of paralysis.

My companions collapsed all around me, alive but unable to move.

Eight and his men walked around us. I couldn't see what they were doing, but I heard talking and the sound of truck engines rumbling. The silence that followed indicated that we'd been abandoned.

After an hour of worrying that I'd never be able to move again, sensation returned to my limbs, and I could at last wiggle my toes.

By the time I was back up and standing once more, it was dusk. The men and their vehicles had indeed disappeared. I had been indoors the last couple times it got dark, so I didn't notice that all the buildings had flood lights, including the gazebo. We had sufficient illumination, as long as we stayed within the town perimeter.

No one wanted to talk.

No one wanted to argue.

None of us wanted anything but to return to the hotel, back to our beds, back to the showers.

Josh gave me a pained look, and a little smile.

I rolled my eyes.

"Where's Golic and Lacethanny?" I asked.

"I'm not sure," David answered. "They ran off when these guys showed up. It was like they knew who would be coming ahead of time."

We staggered wearily up to the building's front steps, pulling open the glass doors.

Despite the Arabic sign, the lobby was identical to the one we left, down to the way the furniture had been arranged on the hardwood.

"They must have drove us around in a circle," Jeff said. "Slapped up some new signs and an Allah akbar guy."

"What about the well under the gazebo?" I asked. "How could that possibly have been there before?"

"Easy. They just switched the floor so you could fall through it."

I frowned. His theory actually seemed plausible.

"But why would they do that?" David asked.

"Dunno, maybe disorientation leads to suggestibility?"

"Wow," David said. "Since when did you develop a vocabulary?"

"Probably around the same time you started wearing pants!"

The moment Kamara placed her foot on the lobby staircase, I heard a low growl.

Three gray beasts padded down from the second floor landing, ears folded on the sides of their heads, teeth bared.

Along the wall, a secret panel slid open and another canine head emerged.

A gray body popped out of a trapdoor in the flooring.

Another wolf leapt up on the bar counter, licking its lips.

"Oh Jesus," Jeff cried. "Looks like we're sleeping on the _ground_ tonight!"

The wolves growled as they closed in. They didn't appear to be rabid. Just hungry.

Hungry was enough.

"C'mon!" David shouted. "Let's go!"

The moment we got near the front door, a gray form appeared atop a leather armchair, growling and smacking its chops.

Predators tend to isolate and attack the weak and vulnerable. It seemed Josh fit into this category, for the next thing I knew, he was on the floor with a drooling muzzle snapping at his face.

"Josh!" I yelled.

This didn't distract the wolf any.

As creepy as Josh was, he was still a human being, and I had a conscience. With a scream, I charged at the wolf like a football player, ramming my head into its side.

I knocked the beast to the floor, but it was only down for a second.

Infuriated, it rolled into a half standing position, snarling and barking.

I had no weapons, nothing I could use to kill or maim this creature with. I would have smashed open a beer bottle, but there was another wolf looming over the bar.

I did the only thing I could think of. I jumped on the thing and wrestled it.

It was like wrestling a huge dog, a huge dog that wanted to rip my face off.

It snapped at me, its claws digging into my body. It took a considerable amount of effort just to keep the canine at arm's length.

I wanted Josh to use this distraction to make his escape, but he only gawked at me with his mouth hanging open.

"Josh!" I shouted. "Go!"

He didn't. As I and the snarling animal rolled around on the floor, he just stared, slack jawed. "I love you," he blurted.

"Get out of here!" I yelled.

At last he snapped to attention. "You'll be okay?"

I had no time for this. Other wolves were closing in. "Go, damn you!"

I rolled and shoved the animal against the hardwood.

The wolf snapped at me, pinning me down a second later.

I heard a door slam.

To my relief, Josh's shape had disappeared from my peripheral vision.

It was just me and the wolf.

It's weird, but I actually found this situation funny. Maybe it was all those comical home movies of people standing too close to bear cages and getting swatted by a big furry arm.

It was absurd, wrestling this big hairy undomesticated dog right after being attacked by a rat of approximately the same size. It would only get more ridiculous once it killed me. I giggled.

When the wolf bit me, I bit back as hard as I could. I guess I shouldn't have read so many Tarzan books.

The wolf yelped, tried to bite my mouth. The experience was so weird I was laughed again.

And then, I had that puking sensation.

I opened my mouth, and instead of my stomach contents, this _thing_ popped out, kind of like a finger with fangs at the end.

I stared in fascination, and so did the wolf.

The beast panicked, wiggling free from my grip. I was left alone on the floor.

I got to my feet, sizing up my foes.

The animals still encircled me, but stood at a safe distance, some even retreating. I could imagine the nonverbal conversations:

`She is not like the others,' the bitten one must have been saying. `She is dangerous.'

The others also stepped back, probably because they thought I had a disease or something. Maybe I did.

I did a backwards sidestep to the double doors, never taking my eyes off my foes.

`She is trying to escape,' one seemed to growl as he crept into my space, herding me away from the door handle.

The bitten one let out a snarling bark. It must have meant `Kill that thing before it kills us!' for a moment later, the wolves stopped acting scared.

I shoved Herd Wolf's head away with my foot, grabbing a door handle. The beast bit my hand, but I refused to let go.

I leaned close to the animal's skull, making that finger thing shoot out my mouth again.

Its teeth snapped shut a centimeter away from the wolf's eyes. The creature jerked back in fright.

Now, the `handle' of these doors consisted of nothing but a set of brass bars. The doors had a basic inner latch to keep the doors shut when you closed them, but that was just to hold them in place. A simple shove could throw them wide open. We would need Mr. Bishop's key to actually lock them closed.

Several times during the course of my fight with The Bitten One, I had heard wolves pounding against the glass. My friends held the doors closed with the weight of their bodies.

I knocked and gestured for them to let me through. They did, but they pinched my clothes in the crack in their haste to keep the wolves back.

The animals rammed against the barrier, making my companions unstable on their feet. In moments, they would be out, picking off my friends one by one.

Seven of us held the banging doors shut, David, Sarah and Josh pushing on one side, Jeff, Amy and Kamara on the other, me in the middle.

The wolves sniffed around the cracks. I heard the sounds of air being passed forcefully through their nostrils, saw the shapes of their black claws and wet noses, felt their hot breath on my back, but they seemed to be paying more attention to Josh and David, the weaker end of the double doors.

Kamara whimpered in fear as she held her position. Sarah, on the other hand, appeared to be so fascinated by the animals that she seemed ready to let them out.

Josh and I stood shoulder to shoulder, leaning our full weight against the tough glass, Josh's face right up next to my ear.

"That thing you did to that wolf back there," he told me. "That was awesome!"

"Thanks," I stammered, not sure if he meant wrestling the wolf or making that little thing come out of my throat.

"I really meant what I said. I love you. Before I die, I want you to know that."

To make him back off the subject, I said, "I murdered a man and buried him in my parents' basement."

It worked. Josh shut up.

Of course, it only worked on Josh.

"Yeah?" Jeff complained. "If you're such a badass killer, why don't you go back in there and chop up all those killer attack dogs?"

" _Wolves_ ," Amy corrected.

"Dogs, wolves, _whatever_. Be a good little Manson-ette and make us some fur coats."

"I don't have any weapons," I said.

"Then use a rock."

"That's not going to work."

Jeff groaned. "Stop watching those scary movies, kid. It'll rot your brain."

Josh was smiling at me now. Gee, thanks, Jeff.

As the door bowed outwards, and we fought to shove it back into position, a figure in a brown burqa ran past the gazebo.

"Hey!" David yelled, waving to her.

We all screamed and did the same, but she only gave us a passing glance and disappeared behind a building.

"Bitch," Jeff muttered, turning to press his shoulder to the door. "Christ! All that work trying to get the damn thing open, and now it won't fucking shut!"

David positioned his back against the glass, digging in his pocket. "Give me an extra push for a minute. I got an idea."

He pulled out a long piece of clear oxygen tubing.

"You're going to put them on a drip?" Jeff asked. "Don't you need needles and a bag or something?"

"This is for _air_ , airhead."

"So how are we going to _gas them_ , smartass? With your bad breath?"

David ran the tubing through the door handles, pulling it taut. "One of the few things I remember from Boy Scouts is how to tie a square knot."

" _I_ could have done that!" Jeff groaned.

"Well you didn't."

" _Boy Scout_." Jeff stuck out his tongue. _"No wonder you wear dresses."_

Ignoring him, David knotted the tubing several times. When it held, we slid to the ground with our backs to the doors.

"Great," David sighed. "Now how are we going to get to those beds and showers?"

"We're not," said Jeff.

"Oh c'mon. There has to be a way. This place is full of puzzles. We just have to figure out how to solve them."

"Yeah? This one ain't getting solved. Not unless you want to serve yourself as the main course while the rest of us sneak upstairs!"

"Look. Let me put this in terms you can understand. We're the higher, more advanced organism. You'd probably say the `more evolved species.' Are you telling me that you're going to let these lesser organisms, these drooling hairy quadrupeds deprive us of our showers and beds?"

"Yes," Jeff said. "Unless you can find me an Uzi, a blowtorch, teargas or some grenades, that's exactly what I'm fucking saying."

"How did you end up here anyway? I know about aliens, Shelly got the wrong laptop, and Golic and Morse are from a prison colony that got attacked."

Jeff shrugged. "So I may have smoked a little pot while doing a temp corporate security job and let a few classified items walk away."

"Not to poke any holes in your story, but I wouldn't trust you to guard my _lunch_. How did you get such a high profile gig?"

"I'm not the pathetic loser you think I am, Barnes. I've worked for several security companies."

"It's not that hard to walk around a building," Amy said. "And the place he used to work for is kinda sketchy. If you ask me, hiring him was just another example of the many questionable decisions they've made over the years."

"If I want your opinion, bitch, I'll beat it out of you."

"Is that what you tell your wife?"

"Why don't you shut the hell up, Amy? You see me making fun of you slinging boxes at UPS?"

And then the Papa John's delivery car arrived.

Jeff rose to his feet. "The fuck?"

Amy grinned. "Okay...who ordered the extra large supreme?"

David shook his head in disgust. "It's a trap. It's _gotta be._ "

He staggered to his feet. "I know we got this thing tied shut, but it might not stay. Hold the door. I'll go check out this so-called `delivery.''

"No way, Barnes," Jeff growled. "I'm not letting you hoard all the pizza like you hoarded all that other food!" He marched off the porch.

David got up, but I raised a warning hand. "You need rest. Stay here. I'll watch him."

"Arguably, I'd rest more away from _here_ , but..." He waved to go.

"Holee shit!" Jeff said, rubbing his hands. "Food, _and_ a getaway vehicle! And just when I thought this day was going to turn tits up!"

He opened the passenger side, then swore when he looked in.

The car had no steering wheel, pedals, gear shifter, or even air conditioner controls.

"It's like one of those fucking amusement park rides," Jeff grumbled under his breath. "Except nobody's amused _here!_ "

The delivery guy, tied to the driver's seat, yelled at us through his gag.

He sort of reminded me of Santa Claus, except for the weird face and poorly fitting delivery uniform. A wide heavy set gray bearded man with nearsightedness glasses that gave his oddly aligned eyes an owl-like appearance.

A pair of red pizza warmer bags lay in the back seat, next to a stack of plastic cake containers.

When Jeff opened a pizza box, the delivery man yelled something, shaking his head no.

"Wait," I said. "Something's not right. He seems awfully upset about something. We should listen to what he has to say."

Delivery Man nodded vigorously, as if to say, `You bet your ass you should listen!'

"You do that," Jeff said. "I'm _eating._ "

I ripped the gag off Delivery Man's face. The first thing he did was turn to face Jeff, now poised with a slice of pizza dangling before his waiting lips. "I wouldn't if I were you."

Jeff lowered the slice. " _And why's that. What's wrong with it._ "

The stranger's voice was low and husky. "I don't know. _They put something in it."_

Jeff rolled his eyes, looking skeptical.

Delivery Guy shrugged defensively. "Hey, you can eat it if you want, but _I_ personally wouldn't. That's all I'm saying."

Jeff slapped the slice back in the box. "God! That's not even fair!"

"Whatever you want out of this car," Delivery guy said. "You'd better make it fast. This thing is set to blow in fifteen minutes. Of course now it's probably less."

"Shit," Jeff said. "Looks like the fun never stops at Papa John's!"

"Never worked at the place, but if this is any indication of how they treat their staff, I want nothing to do with them."

Jeff quickly moved the pizzas and cake out of the car.

"Now _there_ is a man who has his priorities straight," Delivery Guy mocked. " _Looks like I'll be the only thing in here that's been baked at four hundred degrees."_

"Sorry," I said. "He's like that."

"Young lady, would it trouble you to untie me?" Delivery Man asked.

"I can try."

I tried to pull his knots apart, but it was no use. "Maybe I can find a knife or something around here."

"Good luck," he laughed. "There isn't even a glove compartment!"

Jeff fidgeted absently with the door handle. "Maybe we can get the Boy Scout to untie you. Come to think of it, we _need_ someone of your size to block that door."

Delivery Man looked alarmed. "What door?"

"Maybe there's something in the trunk."

Jeff and I popped the trunk and found a little oven inside, I guess for reheating things. When Jeff opened it up, a bunch of pigeons flew out.

Inside, among all the feathers, we found a rose and a Rook playing card.

"Cute, very cute," Jeff said. "But I'd rather have that giant saw they cut ladies in half with."

I found a pizza cutter on top of the oven. The knife, being circular and sharp, cut my hand when I tried to force it through Delivery Guy's ropes, but it didn't bother me that much.

"You're a nice kid," the stranger said. "`Name's Ron Scarborough. What's yours?"

I told him.

He nodded at a tablet computer in his lap. "See that? That thing has been flashing a message saying `signature required' every couple minutes."

"I'll look at it later."

The pizza knife was not ideal. It took what felt like forever just to sever one cord of the thick rope. "What else do you know?"

"Not hell of a lot! I was drinking with a man, I passed out, and I woke up in these clothes, bound to this seat. I saw people spray something on the pizza, then they stuck that tablet in my lap, telling me to give it to some guy named `David.' That's all I know."

"Who did you drink with?" I asked.

" _Xavier Fitch_. Egghead scientist type. My wife got sick, sent me to drop off her reports, and this guy invites me in for a drink. He must have slipped me the Mickey."

I finished cutting his bonds, rushing him out of the car.

We had only gone a few feet away when the car turned into a bright orange fireball, and parts went flying every which way. When I got up from the ground, Ron was picking things out of my back. "I'm amazed you can't feel all that," he muttered.

Animals hate loud noises. In the subdued lamplight of the hotel, I could see the wolves crouching, sniffing, making cautious steps back to the double doors.

David reinforced the oxygen tubing with the rope from the exploded car, pulling it tight as possible.

Ron followed Jeff's directions, pressing his weight against the glass. "You sure this is shatterproof?"

Jeff nodded. "I threw a damn _chair_ at it, and nothing happened."

Ron pointed at the roof of the hotel. "You see that camera up there?"

David nodded. "There's cameras everywhere. Don't expect any help from _them._ "

Jeff gave our watchers the finger.

He opened a pizza box. "So you don't know what's in this. Besides pepperoni."

"They _sprayed_ it," Ron said. "They weren't the kind of people that answer questions."

"All right..." Jeff pulled out a slice. "The way I see it, we've got an entire hotel full of test animals, so if this shit is toxic, we'll know in a second."

He shoved the slice through the mail slot.

After a moment's wait, I heard a curious sniff, then the quiet chewing sounds.

Through the glass, I could see the other wolves coming closer. The eating wolf growled with its mouth full. I chuckled at the bad manners.

The other wolves surrounded him, growling low in jealous hunger for the pizza slice.

Jeff dropped another slice through the slot. "This shit looks _too_ _good_. If it's not poisoned, I'm seriously going to be kicking some asses!"

The moment that second slice hit the floor, The Bitten One dove for it, ordering the other wolves back with snarling barks. One of them, a wolf with a lopsided ear, covetously refused, and the two wrestled each other on the floor, growling, barking, biting each other's necks.

Bitten won this little contest of strength, asserting dominance by pinning Flop Ear to the floor, but his foe only feigned surrender.

The moment Bitten relaxed, Flop Ear snapped its teeth into his jugular. Blood sprayed onto the hardwood.

The victor casually gulped down the pizza as the other wolves watched at a wary distance.

"All right," Jeff said. "New plan. We get this guy to turn his back, let another wolf sneak up on him, _then we slip one of his_ _buddies_ _a slice_ , so that guy gets all fucked up."

"That's great," David said. "Then we'd be left with one very pissed off alpha wolf."

"Plus," Ron said. "I've watched Discovery Channel enough to know that once the pack leader teaches one of his friends a lesson, the other guys learn not to mess with him anymore. You're probably just going to end up with a very fat wolf. That is, if-"

Flop Ear yelped as a bloody white shaft, like a poisonous mushroom, exploded from his skull, darkening the window glass with the spray of red-white. He collapsed dead on the floor.

Disgusted, Jeff emptied the remainder of the box into the mail slot.

We watched the other wolves for a few minutes, but they were suspicious of the pizza now.

"Lovely," David muttered. "Now what do we do?"

Jeff opened one of the plastic containers. _"Who wants cake?"_

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Josh asked. "I mean, if the pizza makes those animals' heads explode..."

Jeff frowned as he took out a plastic cake knife. "You didn't see them doctor the cake, did you, _Papa John_?"

"It's _Ron_ ," the man said. "And no, I didn't. But after that pizza, can you trust _anything_ these guys give you?"

"I disagree," David said. "This all has a kind of twisted logic to it. Here I am, basically saying I'd rather die than marry Sarah. Making the cake normal would be an irony they couldn't pass up."

"The _chicken_ was all right," I agreed.

Jeff handed him a cake container. "If you want to eat a slice, Barnes, be my guest. At least we'll know if it's tainted or not."

We had no silverware other than the knife, so David ate with his hands.

We all watched him, waiting for his head to explode.

"Never did like angel food," he muttered. "I had _strawberry_ at my last wedding."

Ron showed him the digital tablet. "You're supposed to sign this."

David wiped his hands on his scrubs, swiped to unlock. The screen displayed a digital marriage certificate.

I gave him the stylus. "For Pillow."

He nodded. "For Pillow."

He signed the document, passed it to Sarah for _her_ signature.

The moment it got her John Hancock, the certificate disappeared, and the thing played a video about luxury apartments.

"I've heard that story before," David complained. "In fact, _I_ was supposed to go there _last time._ " He tapped the screen and the sales pitch was replaced by an apartment application. "Zero dollars a month for ten years," he muttered. " _Gee, I don't know if I can swing it._ " He smirked at his own joke.

"There's no such thing as a free lunch," Ron warned.

 _"Don't I know it."_ David signed the form anyway. "Guess I'll see what happens. Who knows? Maybe I really _will_ end up in... _Sunny Oaks,_ with its.. _.two bedroom, jacuzzi and pool._ "

"That's fucking great for you, Barnes," Jeff said. "But what about _us_? See anything else in there? Maybe a map to some _ammunition_ , or a secret lever that fills the lobby with cyanide?"

"That would be too easy."

David showed him the device. "Solitaire, minesweeper, and O Magazine's Book of the Month App."

"You should probably shut off the power," Ron said. _"You never know when you'll need a flashlight."_

"What if we smear ourselves with the poisoned pizza?" David suggested. "That way, if they bit us, kaboom!"

Jeff stared at him like he were an idiot. "Yeah, and what if the shit's only on the pepperoni, and they fall off?"

"Still, we'd have a repelling odor!"

"Never before in my life have I heard pizza being described as a repellant," Ron said.

David gave him a slight smile. "This place exposes you to a _lot_ of novel experiences."

"We can make _swords_ out of scrap from that exploded car," Josh said. "Or maybe a _mace_. We could still smear ourselves with the pizza, like _armor_."

"Nerd," Jeff mocked. "I don't know about you, but I'm too damn tired to play swords with a bunch of giant rabid dogs...or peel shit off a wreck with my bare hands. Good night."

He stepped away from the porch.

"Wait," David said. "Where do you think _you're_ going?"

"There are booths in the restaurant. _They're shit beds, but at least they're padded."_

It seemed as good an idea as any, so we all hurried over there with our cakes and other easy to carry supplies, bracing the doors shut with a broom through the handles once we were inside.

"Is the glass shatterproof?" Ron asked.

Jeff tapped on a window. "I don't know, Papa John. Let's hope we never have to find out."

As usual, the table had been set for a meal. Only butter knives lay on the table cloth, but Jeff pocketed them, along with the forks.

"Planning on pawning something off?" David asked.

"No, I'm going to make _shivs_. With the right rock, and a lot of patience, we'll have _weapons._ "

Since the plates were porcelain, he smashed one, frowning at the jagged shards. " _Guess these will work too._ "

The restaurant was carpeted, the bathrooms had tile floors, and we couldn't get into the kitchen. When Jeff discovered this, he gave up, but David took the plate shards and a fork, sawing away at the carpet. I'm pretty sure a normal plate would have never made such a deep cut.

When he had exposed a good square, I could see actual concrete beneath.

"It's funny," Jeff muttered. "But I was actually hoping for a wood floor... _and maybe a wine cellar._ " He set about vigorously scraping the end of the butterknife against the concrete.

"Isn't that going to dull it?" Josh asked.

"Kid, I'm going for _pointy_ , not Ginsu sharp."

We found only one covered dish on the table. When David opened it, he found the usual ring box.

"Oh what the hell." He opened it, grabbing the gold band.

The second he removed it from the box, a big cloud of tear gas sprayed him in the face, sending him coughing and staggering from the table.

Jeff stood up and clapped his hands. "Great job, Barnes! Way to screw the pooch!" He broke into a coughing fit.

We slept on the floor in the back hallway, on account of the tear gas. Since more than an hour had passed without David's head exploding, we had cake for dinner.

I tied my hand up in a towel, in hopes of healing it a little. The bleeding had already slowed a few minutes after we'd secured the hotel doors, but I still dripped blood on things.

It was a very awkward, uncomfortable night for all of us, not only on account of the teargas making our eyes swollen and watery, but also the company.

As I curled up in the corner of a dead end passage beneath a framed print of Leonetto Cappiello's _Paraluie Revel_ , propping my head up on my arm to get comfortable, Josh slipped in beside me, invading my personal space.

"Hey," he said.

It was kind of tight in there, so I couldn't exactly tell him to go away.

"Uh...hi," I answered, dreading the words that would be coming out of his mouth.

"Do you love me?"

I swallowed. I may have even blushed a little, out of embarrassment. "Um...I _care_ about you..."

"That's not what I asked."

"I'm sorry," I said. _"I'm too tired for this."_

 _"Too tired to say yes or no?"_

I opened my mouth and made that claw thing come out.

"Jesus!" he cried, backing away from me, eyes bulging in fear.

He slept along the opposite wall for the rest of the night.

I kinda felt bad for him, but not bad enough to change my mind.

Things proved to be awkward for David as well. Now that he agreed to marry Sarah, she wouldn't keep her hands off him. David resisted, telling her a bible story about a king who had ten brides that he kept and cared for, but never slept with, treating them as widows all their life.

Sarah was disappointed, but seemed to accept it, for a time. Of course, the following morning, they lay with their bodies pressed up against each other, a tangle of arms. You do weird things when you sleep sometimes. It made for some very embarrassing conversations.

Amy and Jeff slept with their backs to each other. I'm not sure what their deal was, but I guess they tolerated each other in a pinch.

For a moment, Jeff sat up, just kinda looking at me. "Wait. I stabbed you in the stomach, and you're walking around like nothing's wrong with you. You could have done something about those Arabs, before they forced us to do all kinds of shit. Why didn't you?"

"I don't know if I'm bulletproof," I said. "In fact, I probably could have died if you stuck that knife in any deeper."

 _"You stabbed a little girl?_ " Amy said, balling her fists.

She beat him in the head several times. "What the hell's wrong with you! She's barely thirteen!"

"It's okay," I stammered. _"I killed someone."_

"Bullshit," Jeff said. "You may he a zombie, but you don't have it in you. Like I said, the _Arabs_. You didn't even kill the damn _wolves_. You some kind of bleeding heart animal rights pansy or something?"

"She's still awesome," Josh said.

With a comment like that, I expected him to creep over next to me again, but he didn't.

Kamara was stuck with Ron, who I guess told her stories about his dog and stuff until she got bored and passed out.

We were awakened early by the sounds of the recorded muezzin. Each of us did a pit and perry in the bathroom sinks. The place still smelled like tear gas.

When I returned to the dining area, I heard a low growl.

There, outside those glass doors, stood the pack of wolves, looking even hungrier than before.

"Guys?"


	12. Chapter 12: Zack Hattam

More than a dozen of those wolves hovered outside those windows. And just when we thought we had them all imprisoned.

"Christ Almighty," Jeff gasped as he came out and saw them. "How the fuck did they get out!"

 _"All I did was tie some_ ropes _,"_ David said. "If the door pushes outward just right, and they're _skinny_ enough..."

 _"Awesome job, Barnes,"_ Jeff said facetiously. " _I_ knew _I could depend on you!"_

"It worked well enough to get us here. At least the tear gas is cleared up."

"It'd be nice if we had more of it. _For those things._ "

Jeff pulled out his butterknife shiv, now sufficiently pointy. It seemed he had been busy during our rest, for he had two others to pass to my friends. "Well, we've got _this, and forks..._ "

We grabbed what we could to defend ourselves, me with the pizza cutter and a fork, Amy with a smashed drinking glass. We had broken plates...

"Well," Ron said. "On the positive side, it looks like we're close to a kitchen, _if someone will open it for us..._ "

"We don't know if or when that will actually happen," David said. "If ever."

"They gave us a _meal schedule_ ," Kamara said. "What time is it?"

David checked the tablet. "If this thing is correct, seven A.M."

" _Marvy_ ," Jeff groaned.

"We should wait," Kamara said. "A couple hours won't kill us."

Jeff clenched his fists. "It'll probably be just another set of bullshit greeting cards. And I'm willing to bet money those damned foreigners won't lift a finger to help us with the wolves. The way I see it, we're either going to starve to death in here, or die fighting out there."

He reached for the broom handle, but David grabbed his arm. "Wait. Can't we try something else? Maybe try to stand on each other's shoulders, get up on that table, and open a ceiling panel or something?"

Jeff let go of the broom. _"Barnes, you are a pain in the ass."_

With the others' help, he scooted the table over to the wall, then climbed up, gesturing for David to join him.

"Don't get the wrong idea, Barnes. I just need someone light and tall for my human ladder. _Thank God you're not wearing that damn dress, I'd have to claw my eyes out._ "

David climbed up on his shoulders, volunteering Kamara for the next `rung,' also due to lightness.

Kamara fought with the tiles for a few minutes, banging her fists against them.

At last she said, "It's fake."

"What?" Jeff cried.

"They're just big pieces of painted wood, with molding on them to make it look like aluminum and... _polystyrene._ I can't get through there without a crowbar."

"Then how the fuck do they fix the lights?"

The room got dark a minute later.

"Nice to know you guys have a sense of humor!" he yelled at a camera.

The three hopped down, grabbing weapons. Since I stood nearest to the door, Jeff gave me a nod. "All right, kid. Time to rumble."

The instant I pulled the broom free from the handles, something white flashed by, and one of the wolves jerked like something had ripped a plug out of its body, blood spraying from its sides.

As the wounded wolf collapsed dead against the door, its furry companion yelped, shook violently, gushed blood, the white thing emerging from its gouged out stomach.

Then, behind it, came Golic, bashing a third one to a bloody pulp with a piece of jagged steel.

When the white thing emerged from another dead wolf, I recognized the bald eyeless head and nasty sharp teeth.

"Lacethanny!"

Jeff grabbed the door handle. "That thing's pretty cool when it's not ripping through human beings!"

With the exception of Lacethanny, we were more or less evenly matched. Even Golic, with his spiky piece of metal, had to contend with two wolves at once, and the weapon was blunting. Armed only with cutlery and broken dishes, we could all potentially die any second.

Ron and Josh kept to the rear, bringing forward broken dishes and such, whatever they could grab for use as weapons. We used the lion tamer's gag, fighting the animals back with chairs, but the wolves got around us, and bit at us, so we stabbed them. Kamara and Josh fought with more ferocity than I thought they'd have. I guess it was all those karate lessons or something.

When the dust settled, we were bleeding, our clothes were ripped, and we stood in a pile of bloody carcasses.

"Good work, zombie," Jeff said to me.

"A helicopter just dropped in a crate," Golic said. "I believe it's breakfast."

"Did it come with a crowbar?" Jeff asked.

"No."

"Fuck it. I'm taking a shower."

Golic smiled and placed a hand on Mr. Scarborough's shoulder. "Are you the one that delivered the pizza?"

"Uh... _technically_ ," the man said. "Why."

"The supreme was very delicious."

[0000]

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #0005113196134

* * *

Damballah Project

Weyland-Yutani Ind.

Rosedale Manors Facility

Subject 94202227: "Shargmazorb"

Our subject resides in a large concrete bunker that reminds me of those old monkey cages that contained only a stick and a tire for playthings. There's a pool, but she never uses it.

A section of the wall slides open, allowing people in the observation booth to safely communicate with the creature. While no fatalities have been reported, she is sometimes known to be violent.

She stands at the height of two men put together, and just about the same in girth. She consumes roughly an entire cow's worth of meat every week.

Black bodied and hard shelled, she reminds me of the queens of certain types of insect colonies. Attempts have been made to repair her cracked limbs and damaged crown (apparently battle damage) but she resists our assistance. Like a lion or tiger, we would have to sedate her to get any work done, and the creature appears to be just fine the way she is.

Our resident expert, Pillow Barnes, has decorated the observation area in attempts to appeal to the creature's tastes. There have been talks about letting the other alien into the main cell, but so far that has not been permitted.

On the wall behind me, we have a painting of the crucifixion, a large video frame showing different idyllic scenes from places on earth, Monarch butterflies, volcanoes, waterfalls, that kind of thing. A National Geographic wallpaper library feeds images into it.

One of the practical jokers on staff also put in a life sized plastic `Hipster Jesus' statue, thumbs sticking up like he's saying `Heyyy.'

Nearly ten minutes ago, I knocked on the glass, and introduced myself through the intercom system, but 94202227 didn't respond.

When I see the enormous head appear at the glass, I fall backwards in my chair, causing her to purr in amusement.

"You humans and your ridiculous seating objects," she said.

I got back up, staring through the shatterproof glass.

We introduced ourselves formally. Her official name: Shargmazorb.

(Note: It's really Shasharmazorb, but he didn't know how to say or spell it - Ernie)

RDS: You look pretty beaten up. What happened to you?

94202227: (Sigh) It's a long story.

I attempted further questioning, but could not get any more details.

94202227: I am sick of this ugly room. May I leave?

RDS: I'm sorry. That's too dangerous. It wouldn't be permitted.

94202227: I'll be good. I love human beings now. I would never harm them. There are good humans, like David and Sarah. They are nice to me. You'll be nice to me, too, won't you?

RDS: Sure. By the way, Ms. Shargmazborg...

94202227: It's (I'm not sure how this is supposed to be spelled, Shasmazorb?)

(Not my comment - Ernie)

RDS: Right. I'll be nice. Now, how did you suddenly learn to speak English?

94202227: David and Sarah taught me many things. Sarah speaks my tongue. She helped me learn. We briefly shared minds. I wish she could have taught me how to read.

She leaned close to the glass, staring at Hipster Jesus.

94202227: Is that really what Jesus looks like?

RDS: I...don't know. That's generally how he's been depicted, though not as brightly colored and cartoony.

94202227: He looks...strange.

RDS: It's for humorous effect.

94202227: Can I watch movies? I hear Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik gets to watch them.

(He knows how to write my name, because I can write and spell. He didn't ask me about Grandmother's. If you see it spelled right on a document, I probably corrected it. He also asked me about eggs and other terminology. - Ernie)

RDS: I can ask.

94202227: My room is too small. Can you get me a larger one?

RDS: I'll see what I can do...do you at least like your pool?

94202227: No. I hate water.

RDS: Oh? Why's that?

94202227: I can't swim.

RDS: I...see. You can still...drink from it...maybe cool your toes?

94202227: I drink ammonia.

RDS: Have you laid any eggs lately? (I asked this as a courtesy. We knew from the cameras that she hadn't laid any).

94202227: Oh. That again. Why are you so fascinated by socmavaj?

RDS: They're... _very beautiful._

I almost thought I saw her smile.

94202227: I agree. They are very beautiful. You say `cute' when you see a baby, correct? I'd say they are _cute_. Would you like one on your face?

RDS: Well, _not yet_.

94202227: Then I'll wait. I don't lay socmavaj unless I have a very good reason.

RDS: (Nodding) _It's a lot of responsibility_.

94202227: (Raising her voice) It's a lot of _death_! (Sighs) On that other world, I destroyed a lot of lives. I thought humans were just prey, things to lay eggs in, but humans are much more than just little animals to cocoon to walls.

They have beings like _Jesus_ , and they make beautiful sounds with _hoosical minstrelments_ , and make pretty things like that: (Points her claw at the digital picture frame) Do you have a family?

I told her about my wife.

94202227: Aww, you should show me a picture some time. (Frowns) See? If I gave you a socmavaj, you'd lose all that.

RDS: Not necessarily. We'd be extra careful. You see, I would like to have one of your eggs... _as a pet_. We wish to study one, see how it lives and behaves, so we can learn from it.

94202227: Are you planning to cut it open?

RDS: Um, probably not. They _melt things_...Look, if you lay an egg for us, we can use it to _save_ human lives. You'd like _that_ , wouldn't you?

94202227: You can save lives with a socmavaj?

RDS: Definitely. Once we figure one out.

94202227: I'll think about it.

RDS: Is that a yes?

94202227: Not right now... _I'm not in the mood_.

RDS: Would music help?

94202227 doesn't answer, stomping away from the booth.

[0000]

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611602 (Ellie's Journal - Cont'd)

* * *

[0000]

We all stared at Golic, wondering why he wasn't killed by the tainted pizza.

"Did you at least pick off the mushrooms?" I couldn't tell if Jeff were joking or being serious.

Golic gave him a look like he hadn't.

"How long ago did you eat...that pizza?" David asked.

"Oh, shortly after dawn, before the wolves started nosing the door open and wiggling out."

"Well. I...assume they only sprayed the top pizza, then."

"Eat that shit if you want," Amy said. "I'm still waiting for this guy's head to blow up."

Nobody disagreed.

We hurried up to the hotel, eager to wash up, maybe rest some more, though we were all wary of our surroundings now, fearing another threat would come jumping out of the shadows at any moment.

We kept hold of our weapons. David brought along a chair.

Golic was right. A large wooden crate had been deposited a few feet from the demolished car. None of us, however, wanted to mess with prying the lid open.

I got a good look at the exploded wolf carcass as we passed it in the lobby. The white fungi had cracked its skull, swelling out the jagged fissures like caulking paste.

"This reminds me of a TV show I saw about zombie ants," David said. "I sure hope that stuff doesn't carry through the air."

"The way I figure," said Amy. "We're dead anyway. There's not going to be too much difference between dying that way and any other. Dead is dead."

"Speak for yourself. That's a pretty horrific way to die."

"You know," Ron said. "I was just thinking. Why couldn't we have blocked off _these_ doors with that broom last night?"

Hindsight is always 20-20.

" _Because we were trying to hold the doors shut,_ genius," Josh snapped.

Ron raised his hands defensively. " _Just asking._ "

All our room keys hung on the board behind the check-in desk, so we picked them up, Ron taking Shelly's room.

Jeff grabbed a bottle of Scotch, but when he poured it into a glass, he discovered it was only sweetened tea.

He swore a _lot_ when he found out about _that_!

At my request, Lacethanny made a patrol of the building, searching every nook and cranny for danger. She found nothing, but it still made us feel safer.

Our rooms looked no different than before.

"You think they really did just drive us in a circle?" I asked Kamara as she entered hers.

"I... _dunno._ Why waste gas like that? _And that minaret..._ "

My room (presumably) was tidy too. No sign of the skeleton hand, or the patches, or any of that other stuff.

Up to this point, Josh had been following me, but when I got to my door, I shooed him away. Him in my room? Not happening.

"Show me _that thing_ and I'll go," he said.

Of course he was referring to that claw thing in my mouth.

"No," I said.

"I won't leave until you show me."

So I sighed and did so.

"Can I touch it?"

Groaning, I let him, then snapped it back. "Now will you go?"

He nodded, but I think this made him twice in love with me than he was before.

I took a shower. By then I thought it was pretty much the best shower I ever had, despite how the soap and water got into all my wounds and cuts and kinda stung. I re-wrapped the wounds the best I could, but I was so tired that I mostly gave it up.

I dressed and flopped rag doll limp onto the bed, staring at the ceiling as I tried to forget our lousy night at the restaurant.

As I lay in the much more comfortable hotel bed, a fly kept making its noisy circuit around the room, never pausing so I could smash it. I'd lay still, to fool it into stopping somewhere, but when I got up, it would take off again. It landed on my mouth as I was trying to sleep, then crawled partway up my nose when I tried to swat it with my eyes shut.

I must have slept for maybe an hour before the fly crawled into my ear, buzzing loudly. Then I heard a knock at the door.

I found Golic standing in the door frame, dressed in a tux, with a melon and a bunch of grapes in one hand.

"You might want to come out while the fruit is still cool. I'm already seeing _flies._ "

"Thanks," I groaned, annoyed at the irony.

"I think we're having a proper _wedding_. They have chairs and an arch out."

It was so bizarre to see him in a tux, like I was looking at a different person. I gawked at him like you do when you see a three headed dog. "You look... _nice._ "

"Thank you."

He ruined it by messily stripping the last bits off the melon slice. "Look in the closet," he said with a slobbery mouthful. "They might have something for _you._ "

A fly landed on the melon, but he just crushed it between his fingers and ate it.

The man was right, though. In addition to a fresh clean pair of overalls and a t-shirt, I found a blue bridesmaid's dress. It came with stockings and stuff, but I didn't bother with it. I wasn't about to wear uncomfortable dress shoes or pantyhose when wolves and other deadly things were lurking around the corner. I wouldn't have even worn the dress, had it not been to help David.

As hot and uncomfortable as it was, I pulled the dress over my overalls, just in case things got bad again.

I found a hijab in there too, but I refused to wear it.

During our rest someone had cleaned up all the animal carcasses, towed the wreck away and set up a buffet, folding chairs, and a wedding arch.

David had on a generic black tux. Sarah, on the other hand, wore something of a more Middle Eastern design. Not a centimeter of her hair was exposed. It had all been stuffed into the torpedo-like back end of her veil/headdress, making her look like some kind of alien. You couldn't see much of anything below her chin, either.

The rest of the dress seemed like a contradiction, for although the head was completely covered, and there wasn't much exposed skin, you could pretty much see what you wanted to through the tight silk, except maybe in places where the dress turned into airy ruffles.

David had found his ring somehow, and Sarah, of course, had never taken hers off.

Kind of ridiculous, us all dressed up, standing around on a patch of dusty dirt, picking stuff up with our hands because we had no plates. We were lucky to have _cups_ , and even those kept blowing away.

Still, the best food we had in days. Egg rolls, donuts, those little cereal boxes that you pour milk into, pancakes, muffins, scrambled eggs (we'd roll them up in pancakes like a burrito), sushi (no bacon or sausage, of course - it wouldn't fit the stereotype), and fruit, of course. Lots of it. The stuff had been out an hour or more, so we had to put up with the flies, the warm milk, the room temperature eggs and fruit

"Our stuff isn't in our rooms," Kamara told me as she grabbed some pancake sticks. "Shelly's box of ashes and abortion paperwork, the stuff about those girls Morse molested, the doctor's black bag..."

"Wait," I said. "What?"

She clapped a hand over her mouth.

"It's a little late for hiding secrets," I said. "How'd you find out about all that shit?"

She shrugged. "I sneaked around when they weren't in their rooms, or not looking. Lawrence nearly choked me."

"Kamara, where does the lobby elevator go?"

She shoved quiche in her mouth, refusing to answer. I guess there's always room for secrets. I let the subject drop.

I thought about Morse's comments about my hair and shivered.

If what Kamara said was true, I thought, what was he doing in heaven?

I supposed, if a murderer like me could repent and be forgiven, anything was possible...It didn't feel like I had any sex organs while I was up in heaven anyway. Still, I didn't relish the idea of meeting the guy again.

Morse's friend Golic was enjoying himself, eating a little of everything, humming Bach's _Cantata 147_.

Josh gawked at me in my fine attire. "You look good...Are you wearing _overalls_ under that?"

"There's nothing normal about this wedding," I said. "If there are more wolves, or something worse, I'll be ready."

"Still, you look nice."

"Thanks," I muttered, reddening a little.

Amy and Jeff were yelling at each other. I thought the food would help, but I guess not. It reminded me of those wolves fighting over pizza.

Amy balled her fists, pounding at the guy's chest, then suddenly started crying, and they held each other, muttering something about their kid. I guess they discovered, custody or not, they wanted to make sure their child was all right, and couldn't.

"Why is she here?" I asked Kamara. "Did she find something confidential too?"

"No," she said. "But when Jeff got caught, _he called her for help._ "

Ron really enjoyed the food. He kept hovering around the table. "My dog's probably going to starve," he said between mouthfuls of blueberry muffin. "But I really didn't plan on being here to begin with. Still, the food's nice."

"Are you sure this is safe?" Josh asked as we stuffed ourselves.

Ron cocked a thumb at Golic. "He's been up and eating since this thing arrived. _No ill effect._ "

Sarah was the happiest person there. She straightened David's tux, admired the wedding setup, tidied her gown, her hijab-like veil.

She carried Lacethanny around like a baby, feeding her food from the table. The creature liked eggs just fine, and the sushi, but a muffin caused her to upchuck. After that, Lacethanny decided to scamper elsewhere.

Jeff swallowed a grape, edging closer to the groom. "Barnes, remind me again. What the fuck is wrong with Sarah's mouth?"

"She, um, wanted to be more alien, so she sliced her tongue with a laser."

"Oh. That's right. _She's nuts about you._ You should feel lucky that you have someone that loves you back." He gave Amy a disapproving nod.

"I never said I didn't love you," she muttered.

"Actually, _you kinda did._ "

"Jeff, we both know there was a _reason_ why we had Kevin, and it wasn't entirely the alcohol. There _was_ something there. I'm not saying I want anything to do with you, at least not like _that_ , but I can't say I absolutely hate you."

"Is this supposed to be a `let's just be friends' speech?"

"Pretty much."

"Fine," he said with a smirk. "I'll take it."

The two shook hands.

As David was getting orange juice, Lacethanny left Sarah's arms and crawled up David's pant leg. "I wish to share minds."

David laughed and shook his head. " _Oh God no!_ The last time I did that, I ended up getting overwhelmed with pity and sleeping with Sarah."

"Hell," Jeff said, stuffing grapes into his mouth. "I think you should do it. _It'd solve so many problems._ "

 _"And create a dozen new ones."_

We ate in the chairs facing the bridal arch.

It wasn't the same arch that had been set up a couple days before. On either side it had ... _cabinet things_ , decorated all over with arabesque designs, and while we went to get seconds, a big bearded man with a round cap and a gray robe came trundling out from behind one of these cabinets with a podium, apparently a Muslim cleric.

The fat stranger had a hook for a left hand. With the amount of puffing and grunting he did, I thought he'd keel over from a heart attack at any moment.

The cleric barked something in Arabic, waving David and Sarah to the arch. Afraid of what would happen if they didn't, the two set down their food and rushed to the podium.

I moved to the front row so I could hear everything.

The man's skin was dark brown, but it seemed like a spray tan.

The woman in the burqa stepped out from behind one of the cabinets. The cleric pointed his hook at Sarah, waving her over to her.

Sarah obeyed, and the two disappeared inside the cabinet. A few minutes later, she came back out in a veil that completely covered her face.

The cleric took out a Koran, read something we couldn't understand, then handed David and Sarah a pair of cue cards.

The man patted the sweat off his forehead with a red handkerchief, and when it came away, I saw white skin underneath.

David frowned at his card. "No offense, but I cant... _read Arabic._ "

The cleric grunted something dismissively.

"...and even if I could read the symbols out loud, I'm not sure I'd understand or agree with what I'm saying."

I thought I saw a long opossum-like tail dart out of Sarah's dress, then disappear under the ruffles, but you see a lot of weird things when you're tired. I was certain I imagined it.

All of a sudden, the cleric got really mad, throwing his cap on the ground.

Then, to my absolute surprise, he shoved his hook through the cover of the Koran, shredding the book to confetti.

This appeared to be a lot of exertion for him, for then he leaned on the podium, dabbing at his face, removing more and more of the brown coloration.

"Boy it's hot," he said in English, removing his false beard.

The handkerchief that he dabbed his face with, by the way, was now a long multicolored silk scarf.

"What the fuck?" Jeff said with a French toast stick poised at his mouth.

The `cleric' pulled off his robe (which turned out to be a fat suit), revealing a black collared shirt and slacks.

David stared open mouthed as the man slid a white plastic piece into his collar, then `vomited' out a white stoll with crosses on it, which he draped around his neck as he peeled off his fake jowls and prosthetic nose.

A drop of a handkerchief over the shredded paper, and a tap of the hook (which he removed to reveal a perfectly normal hand) and the Koran became a Christian bible. "Is this more your style?"

[0000]

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611501

Personal Diary of Subject 78453760 ("Ernie")

* * *

[0000]

It had been approximately a day before they removed the body of that Moslem boy from my cell. I'm no stranger to fasting, so I just let him sit there and slowly rot. There wasn't much of anything else I could do.

I read Jennifer's book in its entirety, but I still failed to see the appeal. Still, it killed a few idle hours.

Not desiring to read it ever again, I set it aside and spent some time in prayer.

I drifted unconscious, experiencing a very puzzling and disturbing dream, about a young girl carrying a stuffed toy around in hell. This I would continue to dream about, off and on, for several days.

A synthetic put an electrified collar around my neck as they removed the dead Moslem boy. If they were a little more familiar with my history, they'd know that I've been able to overcome such restraints with a little effort, but I wasn't about to tell _them_ that.

An hour or so later, I received biscuits and gravy and bacon. Delicious.

"The book any better with a fresh perspective?" Jennifer asked as I finished my plate.

"No, but thank you." I passed the novel through the food slot.

She dropped in a bible. _"I believe you requested that."_

"Thanks."

"I think they're talking about giving you a bookcase, and maybe knitting supplies. It sounds really cute."

"It sounds _home-like,_ " I said. "I think I'd enjoy it. Especially if there's books to go in said bookcase."

Some researchers came in, and they attempted to test my nonexistent telepathic abilities with Zener cards. I got lucky and guessed a couple correctly, making them think they had something, but it didn't take long to figure out they didn't.

The researchers tried a few different experiments of this kind, but I think I disappointed them. They even talked about making me have an out of body experience, but they couldn't agree on how to induce it.

They soon gave up on the endeavor, subjecting me to more practical types of tests, mostly a rehash of things people did to me on LV 426, minus the fun. I guessed the two parties hadn't been sharing their research data.

It turned out my new probes could receive electrical signals as well as send, for one day they used them to stimulate the different regions of my brain, to see what my reaction would be. The result: Hallucinations, involuntary muscle spasms, strange vocalizations, and my heart temporarily stopping, which caused them to back off testing for awhile.

Nothing new or surprising about any of this. They were only trying to reinvent the wheel that the other scientists hadn't shown them.

As cruel as all of this was, they actually gave me books and craft supplies. I could order any book I wanted from a catalog, and did so. The lives of saints, books on theology, needlepoint how to...the worlds opened to me made life in prison bearable.

"How would you like to become a pastor?" Mr. Weyland asked me one day.

I thought it would be delightful, so I asked him how.

The next day, he had me studying materials and filling out forms on a website.

The nightmares continued whenever I lay down. The same girl in hell.

When I asked for the Sesame Street toy, they thought nothing of it. I sewed my message into a little waterproof pouch, instructing Jennifer to place it in a little garden beneath the statue I kept seeing in my dream. I thought this all was madness until she informed me that there was, in fact, a statue matching that same description.

I heard people talking about cameras and guards, but it couldn't be helped. I wanted the nightmares to end, to help that little girl.

They placed the doll, and life went on. I sewed a nice compartment in Newt's toy for her to sleep in, endured more tests. Experimental drugs that made me feel ill. These were nothing in comparison to the sufferings of my Lord, so I didn't resist.

Jen-Jen (That's what her friends called her) once hearing that I had never played a full game of _Dungeons and Dragons_ , decided to bring in her own one day, and we had a little gaming session.

It was a strange concept, something like acting, or playing house, where we both pretended to be fictional characters in a land of knights and magical spells. At first, the scientists let us play a few campaigns, but then they lost interest and told Jen-Jen to stop, claiming she contaminated the research.

A few days after that, they set up the cameras, and I met Ellie for the first time via `video conference.'

It pained me to think of the doll and the card being bait to trap her, but many lost souls fail to see the saving hand of God until they have no option but to reach out from the depths of helpless despair.

Our conversation on the conference was brief, as we had an audience. When the connection was broken, I devoted myself to prayers on her behalf, that she would see the light of God's truth.

Days later, after I had just successfully completed my seminary degree (In record time, I hear, but I had nothing better to do than to study and work on it) when Ellie paid me a visit.

The poor girl was torn by the guilt of murder. Having killed both humans and Ss'sik'chtokiwij, my heart went out to her. It pleased me to share the grace of Christ and help this lost child join the family of God.

Sadly, the security people took her away immediately afterwards. She had David's gun, sans bullets, of course. Although I lied about the weapon being loaded, they didn't buy it, and she was gone.

I would have enjoyed the company, but, alas, it was not meant to be.

I was left alone by myself until suppertime, when Jen-Jen brought in a tray of chicken fried steak. She offered me a sequel to _Adventuress_ , but I politely declined, so she let me play with something called a Nintendo DS, one of those antique devices people in a previous era used to play all the time.

The game was about farming. I spent the rest of the evening playing it. I think Jen-Jen was pleased to see me so addicted.

The researchers normally came in the morning, during the early hours when I'm waking up, to study something called the `Sleep Log.'

It was only halfway to that hour, whilst I neared the REM stages of somnolence when I heard the door to my cell click open.

I got up and looked out, wondering if this were some kind of trap, test, or brain study.

Cautiously, I stepped through, expecting an alarm.

Hearing none, I entered the observation area, staring in fascination at all the equipment, seen, for once, from the opposite side, the computer monitors, diagrams, and video of my pulsating multicolored brain in infrared.

They had beverage machines, but Coke and coffee didn't appeal to me. I took of a bottle of cleaning ammonia from the floor and guzzled it.

The door to my cell slid shut, and another opened, this one leading to a gray corridor outside my cell.

I saw no one beyond the door.

I would have attributed this entire incident to miracle, had I not seen a pair of unusual items placed in a conspicuously artful arrangement on the floor: A rose, and a Rook playing card.

Who is this who released me from my prison? Why would they do such a thing?

I crept down the corridor, hoping to find the answer.

[0000]

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611602 (Ellie's Journal)

* * *

[0000]

The disguise had been so realistic that we'd all been convinced it was real. It made the transformation into a cleric in a completely different religion that much more startling.

It was a great show. We got up from our chairs, applauding the performance.

He took a bow. "Reverend Zachary Hattam, at your service." A card materialized in his hand. "Dearly beloved," he read. "We are gathered here to unite these two souls together in holy matrimony, David James Barnes and Sarah Pulsa Jones, respectively."

"Pulsa?" Matt blurted, but `The Reverend' waved the question away.

"Marriage is a very serious affair..." He grimaced at the card. " _Matter_. Serious _matter_. From the beginning, God created man and wife to _cleave_ to one another..."

As Mr. Hattam quoted Genesis, then moved into a passage of love from Corinthians, Sarah gestured to David suggestively, and the tail again emerged from the back of her dress.

"Pillow?" David gasped.

A bunch of pigeons exploded from the podium. The groom turned to look at Zack again.

"Good. _Now that I have your attention..._ " He took out a deck of oversized playing cards, instructed David to draw one, then Sarah. "Read the card."

David swallowed. "I...David Barnes, do take Sarah Jones as my lawfully wedded wife, to have, to hold, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, til death do us part."

"Now you," Zack said to the bride.

Holding her hand to her throat, the bride spoke. It sounded like Pillow. "I Pulsa Pillow, do take this cheating weasel of a man as my husband, to have and to hold, etcetera, whatever, bla bla bla."

Zack smiled, waving his hands. The cue cards vanished in a puff of smoke.

The rings were presented.

"Having renewed your vows... _sort of_ , I hereby pronounce you man and wife. Again. You may kiss the bride."

"Pillow," David said as he came close to her. "I'm sorry. The girl just told me you..."

"Forget it, my handsome Jedi," she said, pulling him into her arms.

"Jedi?" he stammered.

She threw back her veil, and I saw it wasn't Pillow at all, _or Sarah_.

"Quana?" David cried. "But... _you're dead!"_

 _"I get that a lot."_

He pushed her away, staring at her in horror. "Ippi Snarken! _The impostor!_ "

She gave him a mock bow.

She pulled off her hijab, shaking loose a head of long luxurious brown hair. Her ears and teeth reminded me of a mouse. " _Pillow sends her love...And this!_ "

She pulled a pair of black panties out of her sleeve. "Oops! Those are _mine_! _No wonder I felt a draft!_ "

She stuffed them into her collar, then whipped out a key and a communicator device like I found on that spaceship.

David pocketed the items, gawking at her. "I was wondering what happened to you."

" _Glad to know you still care_ ," she said with a frown.

"Wait. _Your voice..._ "

She pressed a little device to her throat, and, as she moved her lips, the voice of Pillow came out. "Two cartons of eggs and a quart of milk, please."

David's face reddened. He clearly didn't like being made a fool.

"My God," Jeff said. "All those stories are true! _There is a Pillow!"_

"Actually," I'm _Ippi_ ," the female said. "Pillow is in another building."

 _"It's not bullshit,"_ he muttered to himself.

"If you're going to ask me if I'm single, the answer is no. You're not my type."

A figure in a burqa waddled out, tugging on Zack's sleeve. "Canth I dake dis oph now? I wantha gid mawwid."

"I'm afraid you'll have to take that up with your _husband_ , sweetie."

"All right," said David. "I can't say I'm not grateful, but who the hell are you? Are you...with Al Buraq? DAMBALLAH? What's going on?"

Zack pulled out a hand of Rook playing cards.

"Are you the guy that's been putting up all that graffiti?" I asked. "And sending those cards?"

Zack waved his hand and the cards vanished. " _A magician never reveals his secrets._ "

He handed me a bouquet of fake flowers.

"We are _prisoners_ , like yourself," he said, flashing a pair of unlocked handcuffs, which he transformed into a garter snake that he dropped into his pocket. "I, like Houdini before me, appreciate a good challenge."

He flicked out a playing card. When he turned it over, it magically became a card key for a security door. "You'd be surprised what you can do with a few rubber bands, a hairpin, and Pillow Pulsa's security clearance."

Zack put a hand on David's shoulder. "The next time you see your wife, tell her thank you for all the online orders." He let out a stage gasp. "Oh! That's right! _You cant! The children!_ "

He brought out a hard copy of the marriage certificate David had signed. "This is all they care about. As long as you stay with Sarah, and follow directions, it doesn't matter that I screwed up the wedding." He patted Sarah on the stomach. " _Congratulations_ , by the way."

 _"Okay..._ " David said. _"You scammed your way here._ But how did you manage this whole show? I seriously doubt they _assigned_ you to preside over this sham of a ceremony."

Zack put a finger to his chin, looking thoughtful.

"You're not really a pastor, are you?"

Zack flipped the plastic thing out of his collar. "Nope, but I look _snazzy_ , don't I?"

David seemed to be perplexed as I about the whole thing.

"It wasn't easy, hanging onto the bottom of that delivery car all that time," said the magician. "Especially since I had to climb out halfway to get my things from the trunk. That car doesn't have brakes, you know. _At least I had a nice handy_ hook _for holding on._ "

Jeff marched up to the magician, clapping his hands. "Bravo! Look, uh, _Grape Bluedini_...think you can wave your magic wand and get us the fuck out of here?"

"Absolutely!" Zack said. "All I need is a gun, a ladder, ammonium nitrate fertilizer, and some silly putty."

"In other words, we're fucked. And yet you can pull all that shit with the disguises and the snake and smoke bombs..."

"You didn't see me blowing anything up, now, did you?"

"You blew up that delivery car. I think that qualifies."

"That wasn't me," Zack protested.

"Right. So why were there fucking _pigeons_ coming out of the back?"

"Like I said, I _rode beneath the car_. I didn't _build_ the damn thing. That disguise was just to get me out of the other building."

Jeff groaned. _"You should've stayed there."_

Zack reached behind Josh's ear, pulling out a quarter. "Don't spend it all in one place," he said as he placed it in the boy's palm.

Josh gave him a look like you'd give a crummy clown at a birthday party. " _Gee, thanks._ " But as he rubbed the coin between his fingers, he yelped and stared at his bleeding thumb. "You trying to kill me?"

Zack made a tsk sound, taking it away from him. "I should have told you to be careful."

It was a trick coin. The man demonstrated how a pair of removable needles could pop out with just a squeeze. "It comes in handy for certain kinds of tricks."

"You seem...kinda familiar," Josh said, sucking on his bleeding thumb. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

Zack shook his head. "Next you'll be asking me if I ever hung out with your mother."

"Did you?"

The man patted him on the shoulder. "Kid, _if I did, you'd definitely know._ "

"Zack," I said. "You said you were a prisoner. What did you do to get stuck in this place?"

He pulled a yellow bowler hat out of his shirt, popping it into shape. "I'm a little too good at stealing things."

He pulled a clear cylindrical jar out of the bowler's crown.

The container held a big weird looking bug that reminded me of the scavenger shrimp I'd seen in dad's aquarium. When the creature saw me, it got excited, its little legs scraping against the side of the container. I shuddered.

"Munch Junior!" David said with a laugh. "How'd you find him?"

 _"I have my ways._ "

David opened the jar. "I bet he's hungry." He sat down on the folding chair, allowing the creature to crawl up on his face.

"Barnes," Jeff said. "What the hell are you doing?"

`Munch Junior' pried David's lips open, digging around in his mouth with its claws.

"Barnes, what the fuck?"

David gave him a confident thumbs up.

"He _needs_ it," Ippi muttered. "His mouth is _disgusting._ "

"Does he know that you've been borrowing it?" Zack asked.

All of a sudden, David was yelping through his nose, desperately pinching the creature's tail.

Ippi snorted. " _He does now._ "

"Can someone please explain what the hell that is?" Jeff asked.

"It's a Wumpus. Not every planet believes in sticking broom bristles in a bone and using them to apply soap to your molars."

"So you stole from...these people, and they caught you?" I said.

Zack nodded. " _Stole and sold._ "

I stared at Ippi's button nose. "How about you? Why are you here?"

She rolled her eyes. _"Apparently it's a crime to be an extraterrestrial."_

The two helped themselves to the buffet.

The creature pulled away from David's face, eagerly stuffing... _something_ into its mouth.

"Probably hasn't been fed in awhile," David said.

Ippi, returning with a handful of food, smirked at David's comment. "Oh, it's had a _few_ bites to eat."

"I'll pretend you didn't say that."

The creature, now finished with David, scrambled after Lacethanny. The absurdity of seeing a killer Ss'sik'chtokiwij fleeing in terror of a mouth cleaning alien shrimp made us all laugh.

Zack stepped into one of the cabinets, reappearing in a yellow two piece suit.

"Wait." Jeff pointed to a cabinet. "If you can smuggle _these_ in, why not explosives?"

"Again, not my idea. I'm not even sure why they're here. Perhaps our bound up Moslem friend has an idea..."

He put on his bowler, walking to the back of the hotel. We followed him.

The first thing I heard Zack say was, "He's gone!"

It seemed the cleric, the real one, had been tied to a rather narrow tree. I saw Zack picking up the rope and frowning at it.

"He had help."

The moment he said this, his hat flew off. When he picked it up, he found a bullet hole in the crown.

He ducked behind a tree, pointing warningly at a small figure crouched in the branches of a nearby oak.

A girl in green camo, with a long scaly tail, drew a bead on us with a sniper rifle. Her eyes were on stalks, which I found unnerving since I saw nothing on her actual face above her humanoid but dog-like nose.

Pillow had told me about her daughter during our little tram ride. This creature seemed to match her description perfectly. "Sharad?"

The stranger didn't answer.

I glanced at Mr. Hattam's hiding spot. He and Ippi had performed a vanishing trick, leaving a cloud of purple smoke in their wake.

The rifle muzzle flashed before I could move out of the way. I staggered backwards as blood poured out of my chest.

"Sharad!" I yelled, clutching the bleeding bullet wound. "Don't shoot! I'm Pillow's friend!"

"Stop your lying!" she hollered back. "You're an enemy of the faith! An assassin sent by Al Buraq to destroy freedom in this country! Pillow would never be friends with you!"

David approached her tree from the other side, yelling in a foreign language. "Hisook marun! Folakja schnarf jorugo kai juz irvab eiko!" His tone sounded like an angry dad telling his kids not to play ball in the house.

"David?"

"Honey," David said. "I don't know what those people have told you, but we're not the enemy. You just shot my friend. Please, come down."

She aimed the gun at him. "You're brainwashed, aren't you? They forced you to convert to Islam!"

"No, honey. I almost died _refusing_ to convert." He pulled up his pant legs to show her the wounds.

"They _told me_ you'd say that."

"Did they also say that not a day goes by that I don't think about your mother and I taking you onboard the Iberet and flying you out of here, so we can be a family?"

Sharad loosened her grip on the weapon. "No..."

"Honey, we're _unarmed_. Would a good Christian shoot people who are unarmed?"

Sharad lowered the gun.

"You're bleeding," Josh whispered to me, ripping a piece off his suit coat. "Maybe you should hold this over the wound. They always do that on TV."

I was actually _touched_. "Thank you."

" _Etwema_ ," David said to the figure in the tree. "Please come down. We're not going to hurt you. We only want to love you."

"Speak for yourself," Jeff said. "I want to punch the little bitch in the face."

 _"Now, now,"_ David scolded. "Let's have none of that."

"Is he really going to punch me?"

"No. Come down, honey," he urged. "This isn't how Jesus solves problems."

"I'm not doing this out of hate, David."

"Please, Sharad. Call me dad."

I could hear a sob edging into her voice. " _Dad._ I'm not killing out of hate. It's to _save lives_. _It's not murder if you're trying to protect people._ "

"Who told you that?"

 _"Mr. Rook. He's a nice man."_

David frowned and looked around for Zack, but he of course wasn't there.

"Well he's very smart. That's what the bible teaches. But you've got to be _careful_. Killing should only be a last resort."

"That's what he says this is."

"Sharad!" he cried in exasperation. "You can't in good conscience kill a person until you have all the facts straight! What have we done that's so threatening?"

She pointed at me. "Rook says that girl kills people. He says she can't help it, and you and your friends are going to die if I don't stop her. She has to be _put down._ "

I bowed my head, afraid of how true that statement might be.

"See? She knows I'm right."

"Honey," David said. "You can't believe everything this Rook guy tells you. Ellie's a good girl. She hasn't harmed me at all these last three or four days."

"That's how she kills. They let their guard down and she snaps."

"It's not true!" I screamed at her. "I killed that man because he was breaking into my house!"

Everyone was looking at me like some kind of serial killer, backing away. Even Jeff and Kamara, though I could tell the latter only did it as part of her act.

"I told you before," I said to them.

Jeff shook his head in disbelief. "We didn't have a witness before."

"Why did you shoot at Zack?" I asked. "He didn't even know me!"

Sharad pointed to a bearded figure creeping out from behind a tree. "He tried to kill Hassan."

Mr. Hattam wasn't there for a rebuttal, so things looked bad for both of us.

"Wait," I said. _"He's a Moslem._ What's all this you were saying about Islam?"

"He's a different kind of Moslem. He wants to restore the Thirteen Pillars to the Americans."

"Sharad," David said. "We're all _sinners_. Remember how we took the ship to that _prison colony on Fury 161_? To meet with all the murderers who had converted and found the Lord?"

"You didn't take me along," she whimpered.

"We were trying to protect you. The point is, they didn't hurt us. Even if Ellie did kill someone, I don't believe she would actually snap and randomly kill one of us. She's not like that. Last night, when we were sleeping in the restaurant hallway, she could have killed us all in our sleep, but she didn't. She's not the enemy here."

"Then who is?"

David sighed. "It doesn't matter. We just need to stay alive, and not hurt people and maybe find a way out of here somehow."

He spread his arms wide, so wide that I thought he'd make a perfect target for Sharad's rifle. " _Obes_. Please. Come down here, baby. I miss your hugs."

"I do too," she said in a half whisper. She climbed down the tree, gun slung over her shoulder.

I felt a little envious as I saw them embracing each other.

David took her gun away, kissing her on the head.

"Put the weapon down!" a voice yelled.

I glanced at the corner of a building and saw a group of Al Buraq marching out with assault rifles.

Seeing this, Jeff and Amy tried to flee the opposite direction, but then a second group of men stomped out from behind the sheriff's office, a pair of them forcing them, Ippi and Zack ahead by gunpoint.

" _Mierde_ ," Jeff cried, raising his hands.

David slowly lowered the rifle to the ground.

"See, Sharad? We're not the enemy. They are."

"Those are our double agents!" Sharad protested. "We're sending them to the Thirteen Pillars to reclaim the coast!"

"She's delusional," Jeff said. "You should have stayed in your tree and used these towel head motherfuckers as target practice. Believe it or not, these scumbags shot people in cold blood, put us in this shitty ghost town full of booby traps, killed a guy with a chest bursting alien, and starved us until your bonehead father married _El Bimbo._ " He pointed to Sarah.

"That's not true!" Sharad cried. "That isn't right!"

"Honey!" David said. "I'm sorry, but that's actually what happened. "Double agents or not, these guys shot my friends just for not bowing to Mecca. Remember Morse? That man from Fury? They killed him."

He pulled up his pant legs. "These guys did this to me. They _shot_ me, just because I didn't bow."

"That's not fair!" Sharad sobbed. "They lied to me!" She wept into his scrubs.

The men pinned everyone's hands behind their backs, putting them in chrome bracelets.

"Handcuffs?" Zack said as a thug snapped a pair on his wrists. " _Seriously?_ "

In response, the man hit him with the stock of his gun, knocking him out cold.

Amy tried to run away, but someone fired a warning shot, knocking a branch off a nearby tree. She surrendered.

They had Lacethanny on some kind of electrified leash, like the kind they used on me in that kitchen. She struggled, but they quickly had her shoved into a glass tank.

"What's this about?" David called to the men. "We did everything you wanted. I married Sarah. You got ninety percent of us onboard for Islam. We _fought wolves. Dug graves_. What else could you possibly want?"

"Your cooperation was _adequate_ , Mr. Barnes..." A pointy nosed woman with black hair and a gray pant suit stepped out of the crowd of masked soldiers, accompanied by Tom Bishop. _"But now we require a little participation from your friends."_

"The rules of the game are simple," said the android. "Ellie and Sharad will fight to the death. The winner will be _promoted_ to more pleasant surroundings."

"And if I don't?" I said. "What happens then? You'll kill _me_? Or _my friends?_ "

Agnes looked rather smug. Self assured. " _I believe we can up the stakes a little higher than that._ "

She waved to the soldiers.

Two muscular tattooed men came forward with my parents, forcing them to kneel. One pressed the barrel of his gun to mom's head. The other pushed against dad's.

"Mom?" I fought down tears.

 _"Do what she says, sweetie,"_ dad said. _"It's the only way."_

I clenched my fists, glaring at the woman. The cheerful smile I got in return made me want to kill her.

You should never kill out of anger. That's what David told me.

If that's what Jesus does, I thought. If that's what a Christian does, I have to re-think this.

I looked away from her.

"Pillow!" Sharad wailed.

There, at the opposite end of this little arena, I saw David's wife, also with a gun to her head.

"You bastards!" David shouted with his fists clenched. _"That's my wife!"_

The men forced him to his knees.

"Mr. Barnes," Agnes said in an all-too-calm voice. "May I remind you that your wife is now officially Sarah Jones? Whatever you think you had with Subject 9585239 is now annulled. It is best that you remember that, _for the sake of the children."_

"This you say while you pit one of mine against my friend to the death."

The woman's facial expression looked flippant, as if to say, "Pretty much."

"Be glad that vengeance belongs to the Lord!" David growled.

Agnes laughed. "Oh, _but I am_! It's nice to know that an unarmed pacifist with guns aimed at him delegates his wishes for revenge he is too impotent to carry out himself, to an even more impotent imaginary being!"

"Hitler thought he was unstoppable too."

She had no reply to this.

"Who's Hitler?" I heard Josh whisper, but now was not a time for a history lesson.

Sharad and I exchanged uncomfortable glances.

"I don't want to kill you," I said.

She answered, "You don't have any choice."

She glanced back at the goat eyed female, silently asking for direction.

Pillow just shook her head, crossing herself and pointing heavenward.

I and David's daughter just stood there, staring at each other, neither one of us making a move toward one another.

"Well?" Eight called, propping a boot up on Dad's shoulder, gun ready. "Is someone going to take the first shot, or should I?"

Sharad came forward and swung her fist at me.

"Do you know how to spar?" I asked.

In response, she hit me in the face.

I hit her in the chest a couple times, dodging around a second swing to the head.

"Good," I said. "How about playing possum?"

I was on the ground before I realized she'd used her tail to sweep my legs out from under me.

"Get up!" Jeff shouted. "Ellie! Ellie!"

I hurried into a standing position, then struck Sharad in that blank space where her eyes should have been.

"Go! Kill that little bitch!"

"I'm still not getting the idea that you know how to spar," I hissed to her.

Sharad hopped back and forth on her feet, boxing the air a couple times.

"Good. Just don't ham it up."

She hit me in the nose.

In sparring, we try to avoid direct head shots, but we would have to be authentic looking or someone would really die.

"You've had training," I said.

"Yeah. Ever since they let me out of my cell."

I felt both afraid and sorry for her, which weakened my attacks and made our fight a little unconvincing.

"C'mon, Ellie!" Amy shouted. "Kick her ass!"

"Ellie! Ellie!"

I dodged a sweeping tail, but Sharad took advantage of this distraction, knocking out one of my teeth.

"You can do it!" Josh called. "I believe in you!"

Embarrassed, I gave Sharad a sissy punch that didn't even hurt.

David didn't cheer because he loved us both. And Ron, he didn't know either one of us.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ippi swiping a soldier's gun with her tail. The man's comrades took the weapon away, beat her, put a shock collar on her.

I shouldn't have been looking. Sharad knocked me on my ass.

Pillow looked sad, averting her eyes.

I hit Sharad right in the eyestalk. When she retaliated, I ducked, and she hit air.

Kamara wasn't cheering. She looked almost like she expected the outcome, and had no doubt who would win.

"You should win," Sharad said as we circled each other, throwing punches and kicks. "Pillow knows Jesus. She'll go to heaven when she dies."

"I don't want your mother to die," I croaked.

"You think I want you to lose yours?"

I punched her. She made my nose bleed.

"Kill that little bitch!" Jeff yelled. "It's you or her!"

"You're not sparring in the dojo, Ms. Siebers!" Agnes said. "Kill her!"

I didn't want to kill Sharad. I wanted to kill _her_. Badly.

"Do you believe God will punish Agnes for all this?" I asked.

"Sometimes love is a kind of revenge." She shoved me against a tree, knocking the back of my head against the bark.

"It's okay," she whispered. "You can kill me now."

"No!" I growled. "Just _act_ like you're dead!"

"They'll never believe it."

She was right. They could check her pulse. Her vitals.

I picked up a rock and struck her across the temple.

She collapsed on the ground.

"Sorry," I muttered in a low tone.

"It's okay," Sharad groaned. "Just make it quick."

"No."

She swung her tail, knocking me into the dirt.

I got up just a second before she did, shoving her back down.

I hit her again and again.

"I...forgive...you..." she gasped.

I stood over her body, shoes pressed against her sides.

"Kill her," Agnes said.

I swallowed. I had to make a hard choice, and quickly.

No matter what I did, someone would die because of me.

"You know the rules, Ms. Siebers. _Kill Sharad now!"_

"No," I said, feeling a sinking in the pit of my stomach.

"What's that, Ms. Siebers?"

I said nothing, clenching my fists.

"I believe my ears have deceived me. I could have sworn that you refused to kill your assassin."

I stepped away from my opponent, looked Agnes right in the eyes and screamed, "I said no! I'm not going to murder for you!"

One little nod from the woman took away the only family I've ever had.

I saw expressions of hurt on my parents' faces. A sense of betrayal. I had failed them.

A thick hairy knuckle made a slight squeeze, and dad's brains were converted to aerosol.

A second sharp crack, and my mother slumped facefirst into the dirt.

I dropped to my knees, sobbing at the thought of everything I'd lost, all for the sake of some dumb little alien girl.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see Sharad staggering to her feet. My emotions were conflicted, a sense of resentment against her, but yet a certain sense of rightness.

"Now, Sharad!" Agnes barked. "It's not too late to save your mother! _Kill her!_ "

"No," she said. "This is not a just killing."

Pillow screamed as a soldier chopped off her tail with a machete, leaving a ragged bloody stump.

[00000]

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000810020257204: "Diary of Pillow Barnes" (Cont'd)

* * *

[00000]

A live bunny rabbit in a hat. It defied logic.

Where did it come from? Why did it look so healthy? Who put it there? How did it slip past me undetected?

I don't believe in magic. There _had_ to be an explanation.

Obviously, the man with the yellow sleeves had something to do with it, but he was in his cell...Wasn't he?

As I picked the rabbit up, I accidentally bumped the hat. Instead of falling over, it stayed on the table. When I looked inside, I found it had a false bottom.

A trick table! This begged similar questions. How did the table get there? Who placed it there, and how did they know I'd put the hat down in that exact spot? Granted, it was a convenient, wide open spot, but still...

I decided to pay our magician a little visit.

"Hey! Wait up a minute," Diam called as I passed him. "I want to ask you a question."

I sighed and stopped there. "Yes?"

"Do you know what they're serving me tonight?"

I shrugged. "Fries and chicken fingers, I think."

He frowned. "Are you sure? Because I get a special menu. Why, last night was delicious. I had some fall-off-the-bone barbecue pork ribs in honey sauce, not too tender, just the right amount of spice to it, some barbecue baked beans with crispy bacon, and a slice of key lime pie. The whipped topping was a little soggy, but other than that, it was top notch."

I rolled my eyes. "I think Ms. Germanotta knows more about that than I do."

"Would you think it weird if I said that, even at her age, I still think she looks _fine_?"

"I don't think you can not not be weird," I said, and I walked away.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

I held the rabbit up to the magician's window.

"I found your pet. Mind explaining how it got into my room?"

The hand wagged its fingers no.

"Obviously, you found a way out of your cell. Give me one reason why I shouldn't report you to someone."

The hand produced a ring, transformed it into an egg, then made it disappear into a puff of smoke.

"You'll take my family away."

I got a thumb's up in response.

I thought a moment, then realized some lapse of judgment on my part had caused the man to escape his cell. If I reported him, he could easily report me.

He pulled my photo ID badge out of his sleeve.

When I lifted the plastic sheath hanging on the lanyard around my neck, I discovered it held the faded sun yellowed image of some bald guy, hidden behind a sticker designed to look exactly like my badge.

"Hey!" I shouted. "How did you get that!"

The finger shook no again.

That's when I noticed the gap in the door. It was just a sliver, propped open by a playing card.

I cautiously pushed the door open, getting my first good look at the interior.

It was your basic prison cell, nothing special. For security reasons, I think, they had not allowed the man to have quality magic supplies. A fake iron maiden or a coffin with a trick bottom and they'd have a prison break.

Still, he had Houdini posters, scarves, hats, Chinese finger traps, cards, gimmicky parlor trick type stuff. Obscure stage magic books lay all over the place, one by Houdini, one about Criss Angel, and David Copperfield. I didn't see the golden `spell book' that the other prisoner wanted, but I wouldn't have been surprised if it lay in there somewhere, cleverly hidden.

The hand with all its magic tricks was, in itself, an illusion, a two dimensional photo frame glued to the window.

The moment I flicked the off switch to see how it would change the view from outside, the door suddenly slammed shut, and a card fell out of the device.

 _This room was never my cell,_ it read. _Thanks for letting me out_.


	13. Chapter 13: Species

They kept the girl in a little hexagonal prison cell in the middle of a laboratory. She wore a hospital smock and had electrodes attached to her scalp.

Blonde hair. It seemed all the experiments in the facility were blonde.

I watched her from an observation booth with a strange little bald man named Xavier Fitch. His ears were wide, his eyes baggy, raccoon shadowed.

Computers displayed the girl's brain activity, her vitals. Closed circuit cameras gave us views of her cage from all angles.

The cage stood in a big gray concrete room lined with oxygen purifiers and electrical generators and medical equipment.

She had nothing to do in there. Nothing to read, or watch, and no company but a teddy bear. The poor girl.

The observation room was plain and gray, undecorated, with soundproofing. No frills. They only had a coffee machine. I don't think I've ever seen Mr. Fitch eat.

"I can't thank you enough for helping sequence those chromosomes," the man told me. "Without your communication device, and your scientific expertise, I doubt we would have been able to produce this."

A few months ago, long before I arrived on earth, the laboratory had received a signal from a region of space I wasn't familiar with. The message contained a complicated formula for DNA. DNA for what, they had no idea, but that apparently didn't stop them from trying to assemble it.

I stuffed a granola bar in my mouth as I watched the girl. "Wait. Those chromosomes were incomplete. There were _gaps_. What did you do?"

Xavier smiled. "We've experimented on a wide variety of assorted embryos, with varying degrees of success. Insects, octupi, birds, a species of panther, apes..."

" _...Human beings,_ " I finished.

He nodded. "The board threatened to pull our funding if we didn't get immediate results."

I ate a handful of fruit and nut trail mix. I'd gained a larger appetite as of late. I really wasn't sure why.

Actually, as a biological mother of two, I had an idea, but I hoped it wasn't what I thought.

I opened David's He-Man lunch box, munching on an apple. This wasn't indifference, I was just really hungry. "It just doesn't seem to be the best idea. That signal didn't originate from anywhere near my planet. We don't know the first thing about who it is, or what their intentions are."

Xavier clasped his hands behind his back, pacing before the window. " _As you have told me before._ You have to realize, Mrs. Barnes, just because someone sends you the blueprint for a gun, doesn't necessarily mean-"

"-You have to build it," I interrupted.

The man stopped pacing, flushing red. "I was going to say `Doesn't necessarily mean the weapon will kill its maker."

"So you agree that it could be a dangerous weapon. What if it's more like a _bomb,_ and it blows up in your face because you don't understand it?

"I assure you, Pillow, that we have all the necessary security safeguards in place. In the event of some sort of unforeseen problem with the project, we have _containment procedures._ How is your tail, by the way?"

I wagged the bandaged stump. "Could be better. If they had put the other piece on ice immediately, they maybe could have surgically reattached it. On my planet, we can grow replacements and revitalize half dead tissue, but I understand your people are living in a scientific dark age, so there's nothing anyone can do for me now."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Contrary to what you might think, there's _a lot_ I don't approve of in this organization, especially the cruelty of some of the operations. At times, I thought it was a necessary evil, but..."

He sighed. "I owned a German shepherd once. As nice as a dog could be. One day, _a car ran over its leg._ I felt so sorry for the animal. We took it to the vet, but all we could afford to do was amputate.

"But the dog learned to _run_ with only three legs. He never let his disability cripple him. He just... _kept being a dog_ , acting like he'd been _born_ with three legs, and didn't know any difference. Tripod, we called him. He used to be called Jake."

Feeling a bit put off, I asked, "Am I your dog?"

"Mrs. Barnes, if you have seen how I treat my pets, you would not take offense."

I pointed at the girl. "Including her?"

His face became expressionless. "Especially her."

"Any particular reason why I'm down here? Or are you just missing your favorite pet?"

The man looked disappointed. I could tell he wanted to be friends (he was one of the few who actually addressed me by my married name), and my brush-off frustrated him. But, dammit, his people had chopped off my tail and killed my friend's parents. Maybe had nothing to do with it directly, but he voluntarily worked with those who did.

"Sil is despondent, and very agitated," the man said. "She tends to have _mood swings._ I was hoping you could help. _You're_ the alien."

I frowned at the cell. "Who does she have for company down there?"

"With? No one. It's not safe. The _contamination risk_ , you see..."

"Has she...ever been _held_?"

Xavier gave me this look that said, `You have got to be joking.' "The last man who tried, died before he could reach the infirmary."

"Who's normally with her the most? Observing her, I mean."

"I am."

"Then why don't _you_ go visit her?"

Now he looked pained. "That's just not _safe._ "

"Neither is love. Love involves _risk_. Making yourself vulnerable. As a biologist, you should know that even the reproductive act requires the immune system to take a back seat to allow for foreign cells, or fertilization is impossible. As a mother, I can tell you what this child is lacking, and how to give it to her. If you won't go to go in that cell and hold her, you can at least spend time with her, up close, be a friend, give her time to know you."

My stomach did a sudden flip-flop. I grabbed hold of a padded leather swivel chair.

"Feeling all right, Mrs. Barnes?"

I nodded. "I hope I'm not coming down with something."

A figure in a gray long sleeved shirt let himself into the room. I'd seen Mr. Weyland off and on after our meeting on Fury 161, but now our meetings were infrequent. Frankly, I _preferred_ it that way.

"Good morning, Michael," Xavier said.

The man nodded, turning his attention to me. " _Ms. Pulsa._ How are you today?"

"Could be better," I said. "You see, _I used to have a tail..._ "

The man looked unsympathetic. Bored, even. "Did I ever show you _my_ injury?"

Noticing my skeptical expression, _he removed his right hand_ , showing me the wires and sockets inside his wrist.

"I've never had a prehensile tail, but I spent more than a year learning to write with my left hand."

He placed his hand back on his wrist. It reattached seamlessly like it were part of him. "I can make one for your tail if you like."

"That's...okay," I stammered.

My stomach heaved. I leaned on the counter next to the recording machines, knocking a fiber-optic mouse off the edge. I hurried toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Weyland asked.

"I'm feeling sick. I need to give myself a medical scan."

"Don't bother. I know what it is. _You're pregnant._ "

My whole body flushed green with anger. "What!"

"Producing pure Abreya stock was one of the primary reasons for separating you from your husband."

"Gee... _All this time, I thought you were keeping me on for my scientific and medical knowledge."_

"Don't get me wrong," he said in a dismissive tone. " _That's important too._ "

All those questions about Nathan. `When will he be able to produce reproductive chromosomes,' he'd asked. I stared at him in horror. "You used my son's _denpula_?"

The look on Weyland's face told me I was right. _"I admit the solution is a little_ incestuous _, but we didn't have any other live males to work with."_

"There's a whole _planet_ full of _males_ I could have brought here and slept with! All you needed to do was let me fly my ship!"

The man's facial expression said, `Do be serious.' "You really think I'd fall for that one?"

"Babogatten woxna!" I cursed. "You son of a bitch!"

I clenched my fists and growled. I wanted to kill him, but being a Christian woman, I couldn't. I dropped to my knees and wept.

"To be fair, I asked for the reverse, but you said no."

Sure. Take him to Pathilon and let his men lead my people away by gunpoint.

Like it or not, I would have to suffer to protect my people.

"I know this isn't a social visit, Michael," Xavier said. "Why are you here? Was it just to harass my assistant, or did you have something important to discuss?"

"Fitch..." Weyland said. " _We know where you acquired that fertilized egg_."

"I don't see why this is an issue. My wife was a _willing volunteer_. She's human..."

Weyland sighed. "Xavier, there's a _process_. An experiment is worthless with inferior fertilized cells. Look, you picked prime specimens for the chimps, the insects, the aquatic subjects. Why not the humans?"

"That's my wife you're talking about!"

"Xavier, she wasn't God's gift to humankind, and she died over five years ago! Imperfect ingredients lead to imperfect results. _This looks very bad for you, Fitch. I expected better."_

Fitch glanced through the window, then gasped in horror. "What are those men doing with that cyanide!"

I rushed to the window. Down in the lab, men in white biohazard suits busily hooked shiny chrome tanks to the sides of the compartment, screwing down tubing, turning valves. The girl's chamber filled with green gas.

"Don't think of this as an execution. _Think of it as a chance to start over._ To _redeem yourself._ What I'm asking for isn't that complicated. Just do a modified version of _those surveys like they do at fertility clinics_ , run a few background checks... _and try to distance yourself from your_ problems at home."

Xavier silently balled his fists, glaring at his superior.

"That's a _girl_ in there!" I shouted. "An intelligent human being!"

"No," Weyland said. "She's not. This thing isn't human at all."

I snapped my tail stump in anger. _"Neither am I. Are you going to kill me next?"_

He ignored the context of my argument. "Why would I do that? You're one of the few representative samples we have that is both physically capable of pregnancy and cooperative enough not to make omelets out of the eggs."

"Ippi killed her babies?"

 _"Let's just say we had trouble with our other females."_

My face was poker table green from all the anger and hatred I felt. The bastard had used my pro-life beliefs to manipulate me into a corner. There was nothing I could do now but carry the infant to term.

In-bred or not, I didn't dare disobey God by destroying the child now.

I could tell the girl in the chamber knew what was happening. She looked fearful as she moved away from the fog, making animal cries, pounding her fists against the glass.

I could see tears streaking down Mr. Finch's face.

"Please, Xavier," I begged. _"You've got to do something!_ "

"There's nothing to be done," he whispered. "Mike has all the resources, and soldiers. You might as well be fighting God."

As I watched the girl struggle to escape, I began to wonder if he were accurate in that assessment. Feeling I could bear no more, I looked away, ashamed at my own powerlessness.

I heard the sound of shattering glass.

"Sir," said a voice on Weyland's radio. "We've got a problem."

Xavier and I watched in astonishment as the little girl shattered her bulletproof glass prison, diving into the lab.

The men surrounding her cell, having overconfidently either taken off their masks a moment before, or never putting them on, now choked on the toxic fumes.

"She's escaped!" Xavier's tone was ecstatic, gleeful even.

I was kind of happy myself.

Weyland pushed a button on his radio. "All units to Bay 85A! Dangerous test subject escaping containment! Neutralize and kill! Do not take alive!"

He glared at my companion. _"You'd better pray that thing never escapes the compound."_

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611602 (Ellie's Journal - Cont'd)

* * *

[0000]

My grace is sufficient for you, I thought as I stared at my parents' lifeless bodies. That's what Jesus told me.

Would I see them again in heaven? I wasn't sure. Mom and dad didn't seem to be very religious people. I know they never told _me_ much of anything of religious importance. I only learned the basics about Jesus from them, and they weren't the right kind of basics.

"You are a disappointment," Agnes said to me and the alien. "I expected much better from the both of you."

I disappointed _you_? I thought. That's a laugh!

Agnes clenched her fists, her facial expression contorting in anger. "You're nothing but a pair of weak minded flower children!"

'What!" I yelled. "Because I chose to do what is right instead of what people threaten me into doing?"

 _"It seems you've inherited Ripley's rebellious spirit."_ She marched closer, staring at me like a hawk eying a mouse. " _What do you remember?_ "

"I was a famous abstract painter. I threw paint at canvases while drinking a lot of alcohol. I got drunk one day and drove into a tree."

Agnes looked annoyed. "I had hoped we could curb these unproductive interests by keeping you out of art classes. _We're looking for something very specific_ , Ms. Siebers. I'm afraid we won't have any use for you if you're not able to give it to us."

"What you want doesn't exist," I said. "Jesus told me."

She smirked a little at this. _"And Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny say that you're wrong."_

"You think I'd tell you if I had any of these so-called memories? You've taken away everything I have."

She looked skeptical. _"I'm sure we can figure out_ something _that you can't bear to part with..."_

I swallowed, hoping she didn't know me as well as I thought. "If you're the one running all this, why did you at like you were keeping me a secret and everything?"

"It's all part of the history we're trying to recover from you."

I had nothing to say to that that hadn't already been said. I tried to look neutral as I watched the men lead David and Sarah away.

"David!" Pillow called to them.

David pretended to stumble, forcing the men to stop for a second.

"Make her happy," the alien said. All three were taken away.

"What are you doing with them?" I said.

 _"That really depends on you."_

I sighed. This was the clearest answer I was going to get.

The men were uncuffed everyone, releasing them like they were being set up for a firing squad.

As one of them bent to uncuff Josh, the boy somehow beat him to it, shackling the man's tattooed wrists together.

The man had a teargas canister at his waist. Josh pulled the pin, blinding him. He disappeared into a cloud of colored smoke.

Shortly after, I found myself in the smoke cloud, Josh leading me down an alleyway between buildings. A stolen set of keys jangled in his other hand.

I stared back at a curtain we'd stepped behind, somehow designed to look like or reflect the surrounding wall. "Wait. What about the others?"

"We'll come back for them."

I had thrown off my dress before the fight, so I had no difficulty running.

Josh stopped in front of a hummer.

"How do you know all those tricks?" I asked as he tried keys in the door.

"Mr. Magic is my uncle. His real name is Ralph Bottomiller, which is only slightly less embarrassing than his stage name."

"Why did you act like you didn't know him?"

He gave me that `Seriously?' look. "We're being watched. There's cameras everywhere. Someone has to be the `plant.'"

The keys didn't work. Bullets ricocheted off the doors as he tried them in a truck next to it.

When we reached the fourth Hummer in the caravan, the door swung open, and my friend pulled me inside, locking the door behind us.

"I'm pretty sure these things are bulletproof," he said as slugs beat against the shell.

"Why didn't you show me all that magic stuff in school? It probably would have made me like you better."

He turned a little pink. "It's against the rules of the program. No encouraging the arts."

"So _you knew_ ," I said.

"This place isn't what you think. I'm not exactly a willing volunteer." He grabbed my hand, pulling me close. "Before I die, there's something I've been wanting to do for a long time."

He kissed me on the mouth.

Honestly, I didn't know what to do. I mean, I was shocked, outraged, I almost wanted to slap him, but also...maybe I was enjoying it a little.

I almost choked as a piece of metal slid to the back of my tongue.

At the same time, I saw his eyes widening in alarm, heard him kinda scream through his nose.

We pulled apart quickly, me coughing up that trick coin with the needles in it, he waving his hand over his mouth like something had scalded him.

"Wow," he said. "I...wasn't expecting _that!_ "

I slid the coin into my pocket. "You could have just handed it to me."

"Shh!" he said, pointing to a suspicious looking clip on air freshener.

"We should go," I said.

Josh didn't disagree. He started up the engine, pulling the shifter into reverse.

Like a scene from a horror movie, the doors locked, it shifted back into park, and the stereo came on by itself.

 _Crawling Back to You_ by the Arctic Monkeys.

Black metal plates slid up from somewhere inside the door frames, slowly covering the windows.

Josh tugged on the door handle, but nothing happened. "We can't get out! They've locked it from the outside somehow!"

That's when I smelled smoke.

I saw wisps curling out of the cracks between the upholstered paneling in the trunk.

Josh pointed to a light brown wooden crate. "What do you think that is?"

"I don't know," I said. "Probably nothing safe."

I heard yelling outside, and the rumbling of vehicles. It seemed the men didn't want to be anywhere near us.

Josh frowned. "All right. If that's the game they want to play..." He unclipped his belt buckle, pushing a button that made a little knife come out.

I recalled then how Zack had knelt down to `adjust' that belt a little after David's wedding had concluded. Sleight of hand.

Josh hacked away at the carpeted floor, tugging the fabric back.

"What are you doing?"

He undid a bolt with an Allen wrench, also part of the belt buckle. "I saw this in a movie once. The floor panels are removable."

I flipped a lever and a section of the floor came loose. I pulled a panel aside and I was staring down at dirt and gravel. I dragged Josh's to the hole. "C'mon."

"How did you...?" He shook his head. "Never mind."

We jumped down to the dirt, running clear of the vehicle.

I heard an explosion the moment we reached the gazebo. The ground trembled.

I looked back and saw a huge cloud of dark smoke blowing out of the roof of the Hummer.

The other vehicles had driven away. Only the exploded Humvee remained on the premises.

"Good Lord, that was close!" Josh gasped.

The chairs had been knocked over like dominoes from the blast. I slumped into one that remained upright. "No kidding. We were lucky to get away when we did!"

Josh pointed to one of those cabinets that magicians use to saw people in half. "You don't know how lucky. Look!"

The cabinet was pitted with blackened shrapnel, making it look like a gilded square porcupine, or a piece of gift wrapped space debris. A huge chunk of steel projected from the piece they normally put the saw through, the halves of the cabinet turned in a loose letter V. I saw a stream of red.

Josh opened the front half of the cabinet. Inside, David lay curled in a little ball next to a punctured bag of red corn syrup. He looked nervous as he stared up at me. "Are they gone?"

Shortly after, the other half of the cabinet popped open, and Sarah jumped out, clad in the garb of a magician's stage assistant, a little suit top with bow tie, bikini and leggings. "Thadaaah!"

She spread her arms and took a bow.

"Wait," Josh said. "How did you have time to change into that?"

Sarah held up the burqa. "Ith wath unnaneat dis. Issa pahda maggig twid."

On the inside of the lid of the other box, I saw David's communication device with a jagged shard of steel stuck through it, a triangular wedge jutting out from the broken screen.

David looked badly shaken, legs wobbling as he staggered out. "I...was trying to use that Soetra to call my friends. I had it out...right in front of my face..." He pantomimed doing just that. " _I held it back a bit_...another inch, and I would have lost an eye!"

He straightened. _"Looks like that condo isn't in the cards."_

"Where's your uncle?" I asked Josh.

"I don't know. I lost track of him and that lady after we ran away." He leaned close to me, whispering in my ear. "Sorry about the coin. I guess it works better in the movies."

I reddened, giving him a little nod.

Noticing a moving shadow, I looked up and saw Sharad padding across the roof of the barber shop, gazing down at us with worriment.

"It's safe!" I called to her. "Why don't you come down?"

She pointed to the general store, where Jeff was marching out.

The man stared at Sarah, gave a wolf whistle. _"Nice outfit."_

She smiled. "Fang ew."

"What," David said. "You like that, but not Slave Leia?"

"Not...particularly. You see where they've taken Amy?"

"She's gone," Sharad said. "With the men in the trucks."

"Did they...take anyone along with her?" David asked.

"I...don't think so."

"Why don't you come down?" Jeff yelled. "I'll make sure those eyeballs stay put!"

Sharad disappeared behind a facade.

"Where's Golic?" I asked.

Nobody seemed to know.

"More importantly," Jeff said. "Where's the _Arab guy?_ I have a feeling that fat prick has our only ticket out of this place!"

We didn't have the answer to that either. Our `cleric' was gone. When we went back behind the hotel, we didn't even see my parents' bodies.

"Is it safe?" Ron said as he crept out from behind the gazebo.

David glanced at the chairs. "I think so. Where's the other kid?"

Jeff cupped his hands around his mouth. "Camera! Kodak! Whatever the hell your name is! Get your ass over here right now!"

"It's _Kamara!_ Get it right!"

On the porch in front of the restaurant, a half cylinder metal thing stuck all over with glass and metal shards fell aside, revealing my friend.

"Is that a riot shield?" David asked.

"I found it in the barber shop."

"What else did you find?"

She waved us in.

As we marched up on the porch, Jeff slapped Sarah on the butt. She blushed, seeming to be a little offended, but she giggled a little.

"Hey!" David snarled.

Jeff was indignant. "What! It's not like _you_ want her!"

David reddened, looking ashamed. "Look. She's technically my _wife, okay?_ To be honest, I wouldn't care, but you're being a _dick._ _Show the lady a little respect!"_

The two exchanged cold angry looks, like they'd start punching each other, but then Jeff backed down. "So you'll stay out of my business if I play nice."

David nodded. "Scout's honor."

"Fine." Jeff marched away.

The place looked like a modern hair salon, except the scissors and razors were missing, and all but one of the chairs faced the middle aisle, the turned chair facing a square hole in the wall instead of a mirror.

Kamara pointed to it. "That's where I got the shield."

David picked up a brochure from one of the seats and laughed. "I heard people used to scuba dive _around_ Hawaii to find coral reefs. Now people scuba dive around the _Pacific_ , to find _Hawaii!_ "

No one else seemed to be amused.

Jeff turned around a chair behind it, and the mirror lit up, displaying a diagram. We stared at it.

"What the hell's that?"

David squinted at the squares and circles. "Looks like a blueprint."

"It's a mosque," said Kamara.

When Josh played with a comb in Barbasol, the diagram moved.

"I'm not positive," Ron said. "But this _could_ be the Dome of the Rock."

Kamara squinted at the corners of the blueprint. "There's been talks about destroying it somehow."

"That's just great," David groaned. "Blow up the mosque, send in some Israelis to rebuild Solomon's temple, and the Antichrist begins his unholy reign on earth."

"Careful," Jeff said. "You're starting to sound like that dead chick."

"We're cut from the same cloth. _Deal._ "

Kamara shook her head. "I don't think that's it. These people aren't religious. There has to be some other reason why they're trying to hit this place."

Ron crossed his arms. " _Here's what I think_. You blow up the mosque, you get a nice little war brewing between the Jews and the Arabs, and then, when their resources are redirected on that little patch of dirt, you hit the Thirteen Pillars with everything you've got."

Kamara frowned. "That actually explains what I heard about _disguises, and this_."

She turned around another chair, and we got the blueprints to the Pentagon. "I think this is a map from before The Migration."

Noticing my blank look, David muttered, "The government moved their center of operations to Colorado."

Jeff scowled at Kamara, clenching his fists. "Even the kids are spies," he muttered. " _What else have you heard?_ "

She shook her head. "I only get partial information."

"All right, _mini mole_. Let's hear your `partial.'"

Kamara glanced around nervously. "There's _cameras_. I'll get in trouble."

"I'd hate to break it to you, runt, but you're already in trouble, or you wouldn't be in this hell hole."

"You don't know these people like I do. _It could always get worse._ "

"Kamara," I said. "Is there any reason why there'd be a house full of antiques outside this place?"

"Dunno," she said. "Maybe it was part of whatever old property they bought."

"What about the elevator? _What_ is in there?"

"It doesn't matter. Someone in the control room has to unlock it, or it won't go anywhere."

David turned another chair, and the mirror displayed the image of a snake head surrounded by flower petals. " _DAMBALLAH_ ," he muttered. "I'm not exactly surprised to see _that_ here."

Lacethanny tapped at the door. I let her in.

She immediately scampered to David, tugging on his pant leg.

"Hey, Lacethanny," he said. "Have you seen Munch Junior?"

The eyeless little head shook back and forth. "I am sorry. They have destroyed the creature. It tried to attack them."

"That's impossible. Munch Junior only attacks plaque and gingivitis."

"Unfortunately, _they_ do not know that." She sighed. "There's something else I must tell you."

Sarah mumbled in protest, but David waved her to be silent. "What, Lacethanny? What do you want to tell me?"

"Your baby isn't what it seems. And neither is your new wife."

David frowned. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

Before Lacethanny could respond, I heard Jeff screaming.

Here's what happened. While David and Lacethanny were talking, Jeff had seated himself in a random chair, and unthinkingly spun it around.

All of a sudden, a pair of restraints clamped down on his wrists, and needles shot fluids into his arms.

His scream was brief, for in the next moment, he and the barber chair disappeared through a trapdoor that closed up after him without a visible seam or handle. We searched all around, but couldn't find any secret levers or catches to get Jeff back out.

"I...think I'll have a rain check on that perm," David said.

Sarah turned a chair around, then screamed as a skeleton appeared behind a nearby mirror.

It was just one of those funhouse gags with the light bulb and little speaker that plays recorded laughter. Still, Sarah jumped behind David for safety, clutching his hand for reassurance.

" _Now_ you want to hold my hand?" he said. "After all that stuff you've seen?"

The skeleton laughed.

David kept trying to help Jeff, but had no luck at it. I asked Josh for advice, but he didn't know any tricks.

"Maybe we should find Mr. Bottemiller," I suggested.

He stared in puzzlement.

"I mean, _Zack_. We should go try to find him. I'm sure he knows a secret way to open this thing, and we're just not thinking about it right."

" _That's definitely an idea..._ "

We didn't find anyone around the main plaza.

"Well, what now?" I asked. "Where did you think he'd go?"

Josh shrugged. "Got me."

He glanced at the facades for a minute. "Wait."

Josh pointed to a library. "How about _there_? If that place has a magic section, I'm _sure_ he'll be all over it."

So that was where we went.

The entrance to the building was flanked by a pair of stone sphinxes with a long sort of turban things coming out the sides of their heads like wings, obscuring their human-like faces.

One statue had a black camera above its eyes. The other had a mouth opened wide enough to hold a second camera.

Sharad popped up behind me. I didn't even hear her approach. "Where's the tough guy? The guy who wanted to tie up my eyes?"

I shook my head. "He disappeared. We're trying to figure out how to help him."

The alien sighed in relief. "I'm sorry I hit you. And about your parents."

"It's not your fault."

She hugged me.

I must have shown my discomfort, for then she said, "I'm sorry. I... _do that_ when I make up with my friends."

I awkwardly patted her on the back. "Thanks."

I sighed, fumbling for words.

"I lost my parents too," she said. "Back on Fiorina 161. I know how hard it is. Even after you're adopted, you can't stop thinking about them."

"I...I'm sorry about Pillow. She seems nice. Your parents were probably nice too. I wish things didn't have to be this way."

"Me too."

We entered the building.

The shelves were full of books, but they all appeared to be nothing but blank paper with varying covers, arranged by assumed topic like a real library. It had only one floor, no children's section, one single study area.

We passed a display of scifi books, which, strangely enough, had content. David picked up a green and black novel with a thing that looked like Lacethanny on the cover, flipping through the pages.

 _Alien 3_ , it was titled, written by Alan Dean Foster.

"This is about the Fiorina prison colony!" He read a little, then scowled. "This is all wrong. I'm not in it at all! Neither is Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, her mother, or anything else but the prisoners! There's only one alien, and they _kill it_! That isn't what happened!"

He tossed the book back on the table. _"I guess that's all the world gets to see."_

"Why was there a bird nest on your plate?" Josh asked him. "I mean, when we first showed up? You have some fixation with the Nestle company?"

"It's because of Pillow's egg," he said. "I have a son on the way. He's half human, half Abreya."

Josh eyed him with skepticism. _"And he's going to hatch from an egg."_

"Yes. Hopefully."

David picked up some other books, but he discovered they were nothing but more bound blank paper.

I found Golic in the the study area, dressed in a baggy policeman's uniform, reading something called _Adventuress: Swordmistress of Death_. It seemed that a handful of books _actually did_ have text inside. Well, unless he was just _imagining_ the words. "Wow," he muttered, turning the pages.

The main desk had no computer, only a file cabinet. Apparently the place relied upon the old fashioned method of Dewey Decimal index cards. They even had microfiche.

A large black book lay on the counter, children's book format. Its cover featured a single embossed symbol, a slender female hand reaching through flames to grab a sword. Its title: _The Story of You_.

I wish I had never read it.

There, in garish cartoon illustrations, were people that looked like mom and dad, holding a baby in a hospital nursery.

The book showed pictures of someone that looked like me going to school, karate, and camp, then a picture of me in a prison cell, in a chair with a virtual reality device over my face.

The caption below the latter read, ` _The family vacation to Honolulu would always have a special place in Ellie's heart.'_

"No!" I cried. "That isn't what happened!"

But as I stared at the illustration, trying to remember those idyllic happy times in Hawaii, the only thing I could remember in full vivid detail were the beige armrests of that chair. My tears made water spots on the paper.

"It's not true!" I sobbed. "It's not! I was _there_! I _went_ to Hawaii!"

I told everyone at the school about that holiday trip. I was _proud_ of it. If it wasn't real, what kind of loser was I?

On the next page, in the same bright cheery style, it showed me killing the burglar and burying him.

I didn't want to read the rest. I screamed and threw the book at a wall.

Okay, so I'm a cry baby. I couldn't help it. I had to go through so much in the space of a few days. It was hard to bear.

David hugged me. "There, there. _You're safe with us_. What's wrong?"

I just shook my head.

He picked up the book, thumbing through it. "God. Sick bastards."

Ron, in the meantime, had been taking a look at the study room. "Guys, I think you'll want to take a look at this."

The area contained a large scale model of Learning Town. It looked like a model train set without the train. You could see the silhouette of wolves in the hotel windows, lights through the slats in the gazebo floor.

Little model figures stood around a wedding arch to one side. They were generic people, sloppily painted to look like each one of us, what we had been wearing when we arrived. The white bunny with its ears removed and painted shark mouth, I guess, was a haphazard attempt to represent Lacethanny.

The model didn't show much of what was outside besides trees, fences, and dirt. It only showed the junky house, the mine field, the pond, and the stone things. The table ended beyond that point.

I could see a gate leading to a dirt road, presumably the way out, and the symbols on the concrete platforms, interlocking rings on the left one, a hand reaching through flame on the right.

Josh pointed to them. "What do you think those things are for?"

I ran my finger over one of them. "Not sure. But I have a pretty good idea who's supposed to be there."

"Cute," David said. "But I forgot my engineer's hat."

Ron reached under the table. "Just watch."

A light came on in the model hotel.

"I'm not sure you're going to find the train switch."

"Look out the window," Ron sighed. "Watch the hotel."

I and David did. During the day, it didn't look that impressive, but I could definitely see the lamps in the hotel dimming and brightening.

"That's cool. Which one opens the gate?"

"I'm working on it."

I looked underneath the table, but all I could find was a hard metal box, obscuring both wires and any models of tunnels we could have used to make our escape.

David knelt in front of our chitinous alien friend. "Lacethanny, what did you mean by Sarah and her baby not being what they seem? Is Sarah a _copy_? Of the Sarah I knew?"

"No," she said. "But she's not completely human, either."

"If she's not human, what is she?"

Lacethanny shrugged. " _Even she doesn't know._ "

Ron flipped a switch, and a pair of miniature guns popped out of the corridor of buildings leading to the pond.

"The trouble is," I said. "I don't know if that means on or off."

The guns had little lights on top of them. A switch made the lights change from red to green.

"That's not very helpful. I wish we had a radio."

"The red and green lights don't help?"

It turns out they didn't. We may have been able to toggle the lights in all the buildings (including ours) in real life, and I could go outside and _see_ down that alleyway, but the red and green didn't mean anything. They still shot at me.

"So much for go and stop," Ron said as I ran back to him a second time.

"What if we just _break it_?" Josh asked.

"What?"

"You bend a wire back and forth enough, it breaks. Just fiddle with it until it stops working."

And so I came over to the guns with rocks, and practiced my aim, a pretty easy thing to do when the machines kept popping out of the ground.

Ron stayed back at the library, toggling the guns. Golic and Sarah had folding chairs set up behind me, outside, like they were sitting at a fireworks display. David, Josh and the others watched from a further distance.

There were six of the guns in total, as if the program directors had written our individual names on each of them, and making an exception for those who would "win."

The guns broke, but only because they ran out of ammo shooting at stones, or getting rocks stuck in the mechanisms that were supposed to scuttle them back under the dirt.

We hurried back to the library to retrieve the others.

Now, ever since we had set foot in the library, Golic had been reading that _Adventuress_ book. He stopped a couple times to flip through a few others, but they were only blank paper, so he had discarded them.

As I was leading Ron to the exit, I caught him reading something else, a book with my school logo on the cover. I just left him there, deciding he was a little too erratic, too crazy, to help us much further.

I felt bad, but he didn't seem that upset I think he liked it there.

Also, the idea of him reading something that could potentially tell him lots of personal stuff about myself made me uncomfortable. I would have snatched it out of his hands and tried to get rid of it, especially if it said something bad, but this would have been an exercise in futility, since these people seemed to put my secrets anywhere they liked.

"You coming along?" Ron asked him, but Golic acted like he couldn't hear him.

"Let's go," I said.

We rushed across the center of the ghost town, down into gun alley.

"Careful," I warned after we hurried past the rows of uselessly grinding weapons. "There's a lot of dangerous stuff out here, like minefields, rats with rabies, maybe more guns. Keep your eyes open."

"Good point," Josh said. "I'd rather not get run over by that giant ball."

"I'm pretty sure that's the least of our worries."

"What giant ball?" Ron stammered.

Before I could answer, the man's foot went through a camouflaged, dirt covered tarp. He fell headlong into a pit full of razor sharp aluminum spears.

I looked down. Ron's injuries weren't something you could recover from.

David leaned over the hole, shook his head. "I'm afraid we don't have the luxury of a funeral. Not until we know we ourselves can escape."

He threw in a handful of dirt. "May the Lord be with you, and give you his peace."

Each of my companions added a handful of dirt, then moved on.

We continued with excessive caution, feeling ahead with our toes, or tossing rocks to make sure another similar trap didn't await us beneath the next stretch of soil.

Our fears were not unjustified. We uncovered two similar traps this way.

"Punji sticks," David muttered. "You normally see them in old war movies. Most the time they use bamboo."

"I'm not sure that would have helped," Josh said.

The trail wound down a slight hill, turning to marshy swamp near the end. We slapped at the ever present mosquitoes, gnats and horseflies that swarmed among the cattails.

David took one look at at one of the bugs and screamed. "Good God! Who thought that an abomination like _that_ was a good idea!"

I shuddered in revulsion as a tiny thin long limbed insect, like a hybrid between a dragonfly and a mosquito hummed around my nose.

This insect had eyes no larger than the point of a pencil, but they looked human, and somehow sad. It kept trying to get close to me.

"Ugh," David grunted. "This whole thing is _so_ Kafka-esque. Let's get out of here."

We hurried away from the pond, feet schlurping through the muck. "Somehow they've combined human beings with these tiny insects," David muttered. "I never thought I'd say that any scientist's experiments were an insult to God, but this is absolutely deplorable. What possible scientific value could you get out of this?"

"Torturing the enemy with smart mosquito bites?" Josh suggested. "Perfect delivery of West Nile?"

"You're not convincing me it's a good idea."

I glanced at Kamara, hoping for an explanation. She only shrugged.

The insects flickered like lightning bugs, hovering over a lumpy spot on the ground. I nearly stepped on it before realizing what it was.

"Landmine!"

I threw a muddy dirt clod at the object and it exploded, flinging soil everywhere. David whispered prayers.

A mosquito bit Josh in the neck. When he slapped it, the other bugs hovered around him, looking angry.

They anticipated when he was going to swat them, bit his hand, flew away before he could retaliate.

"Damn, let's get out of here."

But Sarah was smiling, letting the bugs land on her fingers and draw out blood. It sickened me so much that I had to look away.

I threw more dirt clods, uncovering additional landmines.

"What are we doing?" David asked as he followed me across the field.

"That pedestal thing," I said. "It was on the model. I want a better look."

"As long as it doesn't have landmines or Punji sticks."

I climbed the stairs on the concrete thing, examining it carefully.

It looked like one of those big cubes you see in a Water Department pumping station, but it had a trapdoor built into it. The door had no handles, no buttons or levers or switches, just a pair of handprints on the doors themselves, one wide and male looking, the other feminine.

David frowned when he touched them. "Okay, so there's indentations for wedding rings."

He placed his hand in the other one, a perfect fit.

"I guess they must have molded the concrete while I was asleep," he groaned, gesturing for Sarah to join him on the slab.

The only way she could place her hand in the other indentation was to lie down, _under him_. David settled for placing an elbow on her ribs.

Sarah was enjoying this quite a bit, smiling and breathing into his neck. David, not so much.

"Wait," I said. "What if it's another trap?"

It was, but nobody got hurt. A couple seconds after I had mentioned the possibility of a trap, the concrete doors dropped open, and the two fell into a big pool with a concrete island, a place reminding me of the sea lion exhibit at the zoo.

Lacethanny, who had been curled up at Sarah's side, fell in with them. Being rather a good swimmer, she surfaced right away, scampering into a little grotto on one side of the island, shaking herself off.

"David!" I yelled, eyes searching the water for other signs of life.

David surfaced immediately, coughing and gasping for air.

"Are you all right?" I called.

He nodded. "Fine. Not a bad day for a dunk."

"Where's Sarah?"

He paddled around for a minute, peering into the depths.

"...There!"

Sarah was unconscious. He dragged her onto the island, flopped her on her side, then on her back. A single chest compression, and she was sputtering water and sitting up.

"She's fine," David called up. "You can join us if you-"

A sudden gurgling sound interrupted him.

Back at the corners of the chamber, the water churned, a pair of spiky round objects popping out from the depths.

"Those look like mines!" Josh said over my shoulder.

"On second thought," David said. "Maybe you _shouldn't_ come down."

"What about you?"

He didn't answer me.

More of those gray objects appeared. David leaned over the edge of the island, squinting at them. "These things look funny."

"Funny how?" I asked.

"They're fake. Nothing but painted wood."

He kicked one to demonstrate. His foot remained unharmed.

Suddenly a giant portcullis dropped down from the ceiling, separating me from my friends.

I climbed down the barrier, looking for a way through.

There was none. As small as I was, the bars were set too closely together for me to wiggle between, even around the edges where they interlocked with bolts in the rock and concrete. I dove below the muddy water, but the bars looked like that all the way down.

Lacethanny could squirm in between the gaps, but it did us no good without some way to retract the portcullis, and she couldn't find any on either side.

David swam out to the barrier, and we just kinda stared at each other.

"I...don't think you're going to be able to get over here," he said. "Maybe you should try to go get help or something."

I glanced through the slats at his `island.' They had a way out. A grimy white tram stood in the mouth of the cavern wall behind him. Sarah was already in the seat, playing with the buttons. I pointed this out to him.

David scolded the girl. "Not...yet!"

He turned his attention to me. "I guess we have no choice. I hope we're really going to a condo this time."

"I'm more worried about whether you're going to live."

He reached through the bars, held my hand. "Don't worry. Live or die, I'll be with the Lord. And from what you've told me, I think you'll be with him, too."

"I'm glad I had you as a brother. As short as it lasted. You've been really nice. Weird, but nice."

"Thanks. I hope you find a way out of here. Maybe when this is all over you can find, I don't know, some nice foster parents or something to stay with."

Tears rolled down my face at the thought.

He gave my hand a squeeze. "May we meet again in heaven, if not sooner."

"Yeah."

Sarah waved goodbye, and cried a little, whimpering something, but she didn't attempt swimming over to clarify.

She picked Lacethanny up, cradling her in her arms.

I watched with growing sadness as all three of my friends boarded the tram, disappearing into the dark.

Okay, maybe two if they sent Lacethanny back, but I wasn't holding my breath.

There wasn't much else I could do but go back up, back into those swarms of sickening bugs that mutely followed you around, bit you and flew away before you could find them.

In exchange for the blood, I suppose, they showed us the landmines leading to the other concrete thing. We lobbed rocks and dirt clods, making our way to the other dais.

What I saw up the short stair reminded me vaguely of something they'd have in _Indiana Jones_ , or a similar movie.

It looked like a sarcophagus with no lid, surrounded by a mosaic of large patio stones.

When I stepped on one of the stones, fire erupted from the top of the sarcophagus, illuminating a shiny glittering object in its center.

I circled the box, hoping something would shut off the sweltering heat currently baking my face and body.

"What's all this?" Josh asked. "What do you think they're trying to make us do? A _luau_?"

As I stared down into the licking flames that burned afterimages into my retinas, I saw the outline of a sword, glowing with heat.

"I think I know."

With that, I stuck my hand into the fire.

I could feel my hands blistering as the closed around the metal handle, the skin bubbling, cracking and peeling away.

"Ellie!" Josh cried. "What are you doing!"

I tugged on the sword's handle. "What I have to."

Kamara stared, but didn't protest.

I expected some kind of Excalibur type moment, where I pull the sword out, hold it aloft above my head, maybe say some words as I'm imbued with magical power...or maybe just yelp and throw it down on some spot where it could safely cool and I could wield it with a little less pain, like that time I was cooking at home and a fork got stuck inside the burner.

Instead of all that, the handle made a loud click and thunked back like a gear shift on a truck.

All at once, the flames went out, and the whole concrete platform slowly sunk into the surrounding dais, letting out noisy scrapes and grinding sounds in protest as it descended.

"Are you sure we should...stay on this thing?" Josh asked.

I frowned. "I don't see any other way out of this."

He stared at my arm. "Your...hand."

"It's okay. It doesn't hurt."

I looked at the limb with curiosity. I had wanted to do something like this all along, but was afraid to, you know, in case I just bled to death or lost the use of my fingers. But now I could see it clearly, with all the skin removed.

It was horrible, like a bug's claw, but with five digits, similar to the hands that prayed with me up in that second floor cell. It had machine-like cords, _muscles_ , that I could see moving when I flexed my middle and ring fingers.

Instead of being repulsed, Josh reached for my claw, trying to touch it. I pressed the limb to my side, tried to hide it.

I thought about what Ernie warned me about.

Killing people to reproduce? Would I really do such a thing?

I already killed _Eight_... _or his brother..._ And _that_ was an accident.

"You're the coolest girl I've ever met," Josh breathed.

Kamara made a little `hmph' sound through her nose.

The platform descended into a concrete bunker with a giant hypnosis wheel and a fading image of a Pennyfarthing bicycle on the walls.

"Where do you think we're going?" Josh asked.

I glanced at Kamara expectantly.

"Don't look at _me_!"

We stopped on a bare dusty floor. Sharad climbed down the wall to join us.

A section of the wall slid open, and a dark shape emerged. "Ellie Siebers. _The enemy of freedom._ "

I balled my fists. "Look. I don't know who you are, or what lies they've told you, but they're wrong. I don't want to hurt anyone, or take away anybody's freedom."

"Maybe so," said the voice. "But you're going to end up doing it anyway."

The shadowy figure stepped into the light, an insect-like creature roughly the size of a large dog, reminding me of Newt. "It's too bad I have to kill you. If it wasn't for you being a compulsive murderer, I think we might have been good friends."

"Who are you?" I said.

"My name is _Julia_. I'm sorry, but you're going to have to die now."

She spread her claws and leapt at me with a shriek.


	14. Chapter 14: Off The Cuff

I tried to step out of Julia's way, you know, like a matador, but it didn't work. I fell to the floor, hitting my head on concrete.

Julia clawed at my face, but hesitated when she saw my black arm.

I hit her, and we rolled around on the floor, kinda wrestling each other. It made me feel good in a funny way, like kissing Josh. I really didn't understand it, but I was purring, from a place deep inside my chest.

The creature growled at me in such a close proximity that I could smell her stinky breath. If only _Julia_ had spent some time with Munch Junior.

Like the portcullis in just about every gladiator fight I've seen in movies, the gate behind the creature slammed shut, and so did something behind me, throwing the chamber into darkness. I heard cursing.

As I said before, I appear to have acquired night vision, so I knew to move out of the way when the big red blob came flying at me a second time.

I raised my fist, driving my knuckles into the red shape.

A light flickered on, temporarily blinding me. The transition from night vision to regular had been too quick. She knocked me down.

I opened my mouth, made that claw thing snap out.

Julia flinched, out of reflex. "You have a suaakudsi!"

"I know. Look. We don't have to fight."

In response, she tried to snap _hers_ through my forehead.

"What are you?" she asked.

"I don't know. Could you please not kill me?"

"Julia?" Sharad called from behind me.

"Sharad?"

The creature had been prepared to squeeze the life out of me, but now her grip relaxed a little.

"Please don't kill her," the Abreya said. "She's a friend of David."

Julia let out a low growl. "Then why isn't David here to tell me this himself?"

"Julia, please. The men forced him and Sarah to marry. They had to leave. It's part of _the program._ "

" _C'mon_ ," I urged impatiently. "I already lost both my parents because I refused to kill this girl. You think I want to hurt either one of you?"

The bug alien pointed at me with her claw. "They said the Musclemens were going to use her to wipe Christianity out of existence."

Sharad shook her head. "Julia, that's something no human being is able to do. Do you doubt God's power so much, that He'd let His own word die?"

"No," Julia admitted. _"But they said she was going to hurt people."_

"I heard that too," she sighed. "I wish Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik were here."

"Wait," I said. "You know Ernie?"

Julia and Sharad both nodded.

I stared at the bug thing's shiny black dome. "Share with me your hidden tongue."

Julia turned her head side to side, as if to say no, but Sharad gave her a nod.

The bug creature leaned close to my face, making the wormy things come out of her mouth.

They wiggled over my lips, inside my nostrils.

Immediately I was bombarded with video images of Nazis burning books, and films about governments taking people's freedoms away and killing protesters, civil rights movements, footage of the September 11th attacks, recordings of terrorists decapitating people to prove a point, and video footage someone had taken of me climbing over fences, running from a schoolyard full of dead classmates, and, due to circumstances I couldn't explain, me dragging the dead burglar into the basement to be buried.

I'd say no with my mind, Julia would say yes, throwing an image at me, and another, until I agreed, to which I'd come back with a "Yes, but."

I faced the barrage of accusations the best I could, but eventually gave up. `Go ahead and kill me', I sent. `There's nothing I can do convince you.'

Julia began to sense the sadness, the frustration, the helplessness, stuff that didn't fit her distorted picture.

Then, all at once, we entered the shared mental construct of a big white echo chamber, as calm but deafening thought silencing everything, quenching my objections:

 _Sorry._

The construct changed into the spaceship I'd found on the property. It pleased Julia to discover the vehicle's current location the moment she questioned my familiarity with the place.

The ship of her memory had more furniture and other equipment in it now, things I hadn't seen when I was physically there, alien artifacts that had since been removed. The place seemed more like home, if that makes any sense.

In this world of minds, Julia's self image appeared basically the same as what I saw in real life, but I had no clear concept of self. The me I saw reflected in the polished surfaces of the craft was indistinct, sometimes human, sometimes like Ernie, sometimes a combination, never consistent.

"God understands you," Julia said. "Even if you don't."

"Thank you."

The construct shifted , and I lost myself in one of Julia's memories.

It was like I was a baby witnessing my own birth, but I had the body of one of those chest bursting worm things, and I was being presented to Sarah, very much alive and happy.

A powerful thought, an overwhelming feeling hit me. A concept that went beyond words: _Mom_.

A myriad of strange faces surrounded me, including Sharad, though a little younger. When I saw Ernie, I felt that `mom' feeling again. David was also present, giving me a secondary emotion of `dad.'

I felt nauseated, I felt happy, I felt jealous.

As memories often do, the vision skipped to the next important moment, Julia's first meeting with Newt, a sibling of sorts, arriving late to the prison planet. Newt said hurtful things to Julia, but then grew to love her like a real sister. There was also Shasharmazorb, that big bug I met in the underground place.

Julia was startled when she saw my memory of her great grandmother. I felt worriment, maybe a mental scolding for promising something I couldn't fulfill. Mostly she was glad to see her relative was all right.

A lot of thoughts are impulses, some of them unconscious, and you don't know why you're thinking them until they come to your attention. That's what happened when I wished that Newt was my sister. I didn't know why, but I identified with her, wanted to be family for some reason.

When Julia noticed this, I tried to hide from her, but of course there was nothing to hide behind.

Like a dog digging up a bone, she found my religious conversion, wordlessly saying, ` _There it is!'_ And she gave me this vibe like we _were_ sisters. It made me very emotional.

I let Julia to go anywhere she wanted in my mind. My family, what I did in private, the madness with this project. In return, thoughts came to the surface of _her_ mind.

I saw Sarah, locked for hours in a little room, or a simulation, growing up to an adult that way, bearing children she'd never get to see. Always a mother, never a girlfriend or a wife.

Then came David, riding on the back of a majestic bird beast with his alien wife, their passionate lovemaking, then I felt the wave of guilt as Julia realized she'd created an unforeseen problem in the marriage.

I saw prisoners on Fiorina 161 dying, people that wouldn't be missed by anyone except the crew of David's spaceship, the Iberet.

I turned away from that, and the memory jumped back in time. Sarah as a young woman, strapped naked to a table in a lab, belly swollen, getting injections in her arm.

An android with a bun hairdo, appearing to be aged in her forties, was pushing down the plunger, injecting something purple into the girl's system.

The pain was excessive, and they didn't give her anything for it. A bearded man behind the robot (the name on the labcoat read K. Barnett) protested, tried to make her stop. "We haven't finished the trials for this genome yet! We don't know what that will do to the experiment! You have to let the DNA run its course! There's a _time table_!"

The woman injected the last drop. "The time table has been changed."

"Dammit, Mara! Do you know how long it will be before we can get another viable womb?"

"Six months, four days, eleven hours, twenty nine minutes, forty seconds. Subject 400138. She ovulates quite well."

The man clenched his fists. "So you're throwing out an entire line of fetuses out to test some fucking experimental drug."

" _Language_ , Mr. Barnett," she scolded. "5 SB has tested successfully on laboratory animals and subjects 960322 and 619102, respectively. The stem cell material alone will save countless lives."

" _If it has been proven safe for the general public_ ," Barnett said.

The woman dropped the syringe into a sterilization machine, then helped Sarah to birth her new baby.

There had been a gap of time in between those two events. She may have birthed some time later, but it wasn't that important, so it got skipped.

Sarah had three babies. They all came out blue and purple, dead on arrival.

They put Sarah in a cryogenic tank.

David had visited this memory in Julia's mind. He had tried to tell Sarah it wasn't her fault, but she, as a mere memory in someone else's mind, couldn't hear him. I could see how maybe explaining this to the real Sarah would cause her to become obsessed with him.

Seeing all I cared to, I looked away.

I was flooded with memories of the Ripley woman.

A grim, no-nonsense kind of woman. Always a leader, never a follower.

Strong.

Bold.

Stubborn.

I didn't want to, but I found myself admiring her. Right or wrong, the woman `stuck to her guns,' and did what had to be done to save those she cared about.

I could do that.

Julia accessed a memory of my parents. "This is important. Do you remember anything?"

I saw the patches. The photographs. Objects from a past that belonged to this strange woman. They clicked into a mosaic that Julia understood, a mosaic she fed back to me in a way that actually made sense.

It wouldn't be my memories.

It wouldn't be what the people in charge wanted, but they'd _have_ their memories, one way or another.

"Do you remember anything?" the Agnes voice said.

Julia saw my fight with Sharad. Felt the pain of my loss.

When Julia heard Agnes saying all those nasty things about God, she didn't get upset. I only sensed... _puzzlement, and confidence in the face of wrongness_ , like if you heard someone saying two plus two equals five and knowing it wasn't the answer.

 _Do you remember anything?_ the voice repeated.

I and Julia stood in the memory of the battlefield, regarding our enemy. Agnes, Bishop, the soldiers.

"Yes," I said to the woman's phantom. "I remember enough."

The images around us fled like the end of a dream in the late morning. We groggily sat up. Julia hugged me.

I got up, yelling at the black bubble camera in the middle of the hypnosis wheel. " _Michael_ Weyland! I have what you're looking for! _Show yourself!_ Or are you that much of a coward!"

I was basically copping Ripley's attitude, the one I'd seen in Julia's memories.

A dozen of flood lamps switched on, the illumination so blinding that I had to shield my eyes to see anything.

A lean figure in a black outfit stepped into view, the light obscuring his general shape, blotting out his features. When I squinted, it only looked like that Bishop unit.

The memories from Julia were still fresh. All I had to do was modify the script so it seemed like they were my lines.

I clenched my fists. "You go through all the trouble of bringing me back from the dead, and you don't even have the guts to talk to me in person! What droid are we up to now? Four thousand?"

The figure raised his hands in surrender.

He spoke, and when he did, it sounded like the android.

"No tricks, Ellen. I'm the genuine article."

He crept closer to me.

"It's so good to talk to you again. The way you were, before all this. _It makes me feel very optimistic about the future of this project_."

I gave him my coldest look. "This is some kind of sick revenge game with you, isn't it? Bring back the people who hate you the most to watch them squeal and run around in your little Habatrail!"

I was rather proud of how I threw emotions and concepts together, just like that woman would have said them. It was acting, but he didn't seem to know the difference.

I probably would have loved acting, if someone had let me do it in school.

"This isn't about revenge, Ripley," the man said. "I have much grander goals in mind. _Knowledge_. _Immortality_. A _unified nation_."

"...And a complete stranger filling you full of holes!" said a voice behind me.

I turned around and saw Mr. Hattam firing a machine gun.

Mr. Weyland staggered backwards with multiple wounds in the head, chest and stomach, falling to the concrete.

"Whoops," Zack said with a half grin. "That was actually _my_ goal."

The man lay motionless on the gray floor. We all stared at his bloody gunshot wounds.

"That...doesn't look like a synth to me," Kamara said. "At least, I don't think."

Zack knelt by the body, stuck his finger into one of the holes, then tasted the blood.

He spat it out immediately. "God! That chemical shit is nasty!"

"Are you...saying he's a synth?" I asked. "Or are you saying he's just loaded with drugs?"

Zack pulled a wire that looked like something from a battery powered toy out of the man's forehead. "I'm no doctor, but I'm pretty sure this doesn't belong in a real brain."

"I thought he said no tricks," I muttered.

"I did..." said a voice to my left.

The wall with the Pennyfarthing bicycle had slid open to reveal a circular glass window, through which I could see an observation booth, where another copy of the man sat in a swivel chair, alive and well. "...But that was before we noticed the missing gun."

Weyland smiled at me. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Ripley. I imagine you have many questions for me, but first, I have a few for you." He steepled his fingers. "This is very important. I want you to think back to that first fateful expedition you took onboard the Nostromo. There was a _planet_. You found a _spaceship_ there. I want you to tell me everything you saw, down to the last detail."

A memory that didn't exist. I felt like I were playing Trivial Pursuit, or Jeopardy, staring at some confusing question about about seventeenth century French poetry.

"Uh..."

[0000]

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000810020257204: "Diary of Pillow Barnes"

* * *

[0000]

A few months ago, before Weyland put me through all these games, he showed me a telescope image of a region of space where the message had came from.

We sat in his `War Room', a long windowless chamber with wraparound markerboards, computer displays and corkboards filled with documents. The table could have been used for a royal banquet, if it hadn't been covered from one end to the other with mounds of scientific paperwork.

The man stabbed the photograph with his finger. "This is a cluster we found at M99490."

I rolled my eyes. " _Creative._ "

"Ms. Pulsa..."

" _Mrs. Barnes_ ," I corrected.

Instead of saying it right, he kept going. " _Science has come a long way since its astrology days_. There's billions upon billions of stars, and we just don't have the time to name them all. It would be different if there were actually something present on half of them, but there isn't."

 _"That you know about,"_ I interjected.

"Which is exactly why I invited _you_ into this little conversation. Two years ago, our radio equipment received a signal from this quadrant. I want you to look at this carefully and tell me if you see anything familiar."

I squinted at the scattered white dots, turning them around and around on the light table to make more sense of them.

I frowned. The pattern reminded me of a few things I'd seen in observatories at home, but even if I had memorized all those, I wouldn't have been able to put it together in an earth man's perspective.

It wasn't the language, it was the vantage point. Billions of miles in deep space, a human can't easily tell if he's looking at Draco or the Great Bear without a computer.

To be honest, it wouldn't have mattered. Knowledge of those arrangements of stars in space by name, although romantic, was useless because we never went there. Ever.

"I'm no astronomer. This isn't remotely familiar to me...You say you've received a _signal_ from there?"

Now that I think about it, I probably should have responded differently, maybe, to use an earth metaphor, not `show my cards' so much.

"You're telling me you don't recognize this place at all?"

"I...I don't know. I'd probably need a star chart to figure it out."

The man opened a laptop, showing me an application that displayed a human view of the universe, Capricorn and Sagittarius and all of that. You could zoom out and see a lot of numbered nothings that were supposed to be universes.

"That's cute," I said. "But I need one of _mine_ , and maybe a little outside help."

He slapped my Soetra down on the light table. "Will this help?"

I picked it up, staring at him with uncertainty. "You're...not afraid that I'll call down a ship and start an interstellar war?"

The man looked amused. " _Please_. You visit my prison colony without armed escort, you _let creatures kill everyone,_ and my men gun down the people who are left and you never once used the thing.

"My guess is that you and your friends are rather low on the intergalactic totem pole. Even if I weren't currently suffering from a terminal illness, I wouldn't find you a threat."

I flipped the device open. "What if you're wrong? What if I _do_ have military connections, and I just.. _.didn't feel the need to use them?_ "

Weyland got a dreamy, faraway look when I mentioned the idea. "Your nonexistent armies would be doing humanity a favor. There's parts of this planet I'd love to tear down and remodel with terraforming equipment. _Mexico_ , for instance, is a dirty little country. Their biggest export: Cocaine. Its capitol is dangerously overpopulated, crime runs rampant. You can't drink the water, and vendors sell you dogs and sewer rats on a stick." He pantomimed an explosion. "Boom."

I stared at him, wondering how a man can afford to be be such an unspeakable misanthrope so close to the end of his life.

"This is all to say, if you want to bring World War III, I have a battleground already picked out, and it's not some idyllic pastureland outside Jerusalem."

Mr. Gannon, a mutual friend of I and my husband, lived on Planet Pathilon. The clock on the wall said 8:36 A.M., which was okay for me, but not for him, because time is relative. If you call a guy in Japan around 1 P.M. Central, he's not going to be very happy. My hands rubbed the sides of the device nervously, expecting a full-on Grumpy Bear answer from the other end.

To my surprise, I found the young man awake, standing in a round kitchen room with tiles of a pink substance that looked like chewing gum. He appeared to be eating ice cream, but I was familiar enough with the look of the substance to know it was really the pasteurized flavored secretions of a Shoktar's anal scent glands. It tastes better than it sounds.

His brown hair was in shabby disarray, his only clothing the fine layer of light brown and cream colored fur growing from his otherwise naked body.

"You're up early," I said, steering my eyes away from his furry chest. One thing David had never been able to do, was grow a decent pelt.

Although awake, Matt's eyes kept squinting from drowsiness. "Pillow?"

"Kigo coz bea rinistibo," I apologized in Wava. "My communicator had been taken away and I just recently got it back."

He rubbed his eyes. "It's okay. Someone flew a Grunkiahu into the side of the house. There was a fight, and someone went to the hospital. Couldn't get to sleep after that...What's going on?"

I told him about the star chart, sending him a picture.

His wife appeared next to him on the monitor, also not wearing a stitch of clothing.

"My, aren't _you_ cozy!"

Matt shrugged. "I've always been nervous around Dista. Until we got married, I didn't want to admit the reason why, even to myself."

"Pretty girls make him nervous," she said with a giggle.

He wrapped an arm around her. " _We're working on it._ "

" _I can see that._ "

Dista murmured something I'd rather not repeat. The comment made Matt grin woozily, sliding his hand around her hip.

His companion muttered something in monotone.

"...How was the prison mission?" Matt asked.

I informed him about what happened, and about our imprisonment at the facility. I said all of this in Ixzedle, so Weyland didn't know...I think.

He glanced at the corner of the screen. "Okay. It's done."

"Anything?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No. It's not on any of our charts. There's a couple that kinda-sorta look almost like it, but you wouldn't be able to see any of them with one of those earth telescopes. At all."

"Have you asked...Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik...Ernie?" I asked Weyland.

" _We tried_. He doesn't know about anything outside Fiorina 161 or LV 426. I'm actually surprised, after his religious conversion, that he didn't know less, maybe started to believe that the earth was _flat, and the sun revolved around it._ "

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," I said.

"Of course you will. Denial is the only thing keeping your religion in business these days."

I didn't acknowledge that with a reply.

"Who, in your opinion, do you think sent the signal?"

"I...don't know."

When I disconnected from Mr. Gannon, Weyland showed me a stack of papers, thicker than an encyclopedia, filled with nothing but ones and zeros.

"What am I looking at?"

"I was hoping you would be able to tell me," the man said. "It came from that region of space I just showed you. We think it's code for a sequence of DNA, but we're not exactly sure what kind. We also received codes for things that don't seem to fit the formula for chromosomes, possibly items of linguistic or cultural significance."

I flipped idly through the stack, thinking about how David used to make little stick figure cartoons with piles of paper like this. "Have you shown this to Thonwa?"

Weyland nodded. "She doesn't have half the education you have. She knows nothing about the star system, or genetics.

"Obviously, this is only a quarter of the piece we couldn't use. For the last six months, we've been running the things we've been able to recognize through a series of IBM Vulcan supercomputers. We have a good portion of the genetics assembled already, based on comparative samples from the different species of earth. If you need to figure out what part came before or after what you're looking at, just let me know and we'll pull the data from the Vulcans."

"I'm sure the Vulcans would _love_ that," I joked. "Of course, they _are_ logical."

The man didn't even smirk. I guess you wouldn't if you paid thousands of dollars for those computers.

I turned the pages.

"Take it to your room. Play with it. Maybe you'll uncover something we've been overlooking."

So I did. For the next few days, my duller moments were spent studying this code, the genetic sequences, the mystifying extra pieces that didn't fit.

I took the papers to my cell, as a sleep aid, waking up at odd hours of the morning in a pile of photocopies and notes. I let the children draw on them, filling in the circles, connecting the dots. I sent the data to different locations on my home planet, told them the quadrant of the signal (though, in retrospect, I probably shouldn't have).

It was Sarah Wakweha, the non-smoker with lung cancer, that discovered the missing piece in the coding.

"It looks nicer," she had said. "It looks more balanced."

She was right. They fed the data into the computer, and I was given a new pile of ones and zeros, one that seemed much lighter. I'm still trying to figure that one out.

On a whim, I slipped a few sheets of this code through the food slot in the magician's door.

Things got very confusing at this point, for I saw a paper drop out, an elastic band snapped (the kind they use for card tricks), and papers rustled around.

Somehow this resulted in my badge disappearing, replaced by a duplicate with a fake sticker on the front.

Or maybe, before I got locked in the cell, he flashed the fake badge _at_ me, to goad me into stepping in, so he could swipe the real one, possibly after he stuck the fake sticker onto my real badge. Chronologically, it didn't make sense, but shell games never do. At least, not to me.

The fact of the matter remained: I had been duped by clever sleight of hand, and locked in a prisoner's cell.

Furious at the dirty trick, I flung the man's little gimmicky toys at the walls.

His card shuffler banged into an air register, knocking the grille to the floor with a noisy clatter.

The vent's interior was cramped and narrow, looking too small for anyone but a child to crawl through...or a contortionist.

 _A contortionist._

David and I once took... _a class_. It taught married couples how to get their bodies limber and flexible, especially in rather difficult sexual positions. Abreyas are not as body conscious as humans, so it was...very _uncensored_.

On our planet, we have something called nennops, specially bred romantic advisers (eunuchs). Posqufa, who taught the class, was a good one.

In case you're wondering, no, we didn't practice our moves on anyone but our spouses. That wasn't the point.

Boovleho is very comprehensive. It even teaches breathing in birthing techniques. I've heard stories about Abreyas going through the whole program and actually laying and egg during that part of class, but the typical gestation period of the average Abreya is all wrong for that, so I'm sure they were well on their way to having one before the class even began.

I only mention this because I had to strip to my underwear and make use of the Zambo Compression Exercise to fit into the compartment, then the Sidling Sereniuk Hindquarter Bump, bumping forwards instead of backwards, in order to squeeze around a pipe.

David loves my body, but I instantly regretted pigging out on barbecue the night before. I felt like I was in that ridiculous story about the fat bear being mistaken for a rabbit's towel rack.

I sneezed. The ducts hadn't been cleaned in a long time, and my fur had grown long. If David had been there, he would have started making jokes about me being a sexy feather duster, and how clean the walls were getting.

Thoughts like that should have helped me when I did the Passionate Reptilian belly slide through a duct with an even lower ceiling, but my eyes kept watering and getting puffy, my nose running in a very unsexy way, so I hit my head a few times.

At last, beyond the passage for the air conditioner, my hands blindly knocked down a vent cover.

Another Sereniuk Gwiddy, and I stood in the empty room where I had found the hat.

It only looked empty.

As I was dusting myself off, I noticed a strange shimmering.

I stubbed my toe, seemingly on air, and objects faded into view, like toys in the bottom of a murky bathtub when the stopper is removed.

Neatly stacked shipping containers and high end magic tricks filled the room, such as The Levitating Woman, the teleportation illusion, a safe, and a Houdini underwater escape prop from some movie studio.

Discarded packing slips hinted at the contents of some of the packages: A pastor's stoll, colored smoke bombs, hats, cards, wigs, mustaches, handcuffs, a hook and a beard for a realistic pirate costume.

Stacks of empty pizza boxes gathered flies, a tablet and a device that remotely accesses your hard drive and hijacks it under the guise of `updates', and piles of approval forms asking for my signature to ship lay in a trick mummy case.

As I shook myself off, thinking about vacations I've had (Villasania dust baths are actually quite popular on my planet, but the dust is more like talc, and you bathe first) I suddenly noticed a gray haired figure `vaping on a bed with Sorcerer's Apprentice sheets.

She set down her little smoking box, smiling at me. _"So that's what you look like without your clothes."_

"This isn't what you think," I stammered. "I got stuck." I wiped my nose on my pelt.

"No, no, it's cute," Stefani said. "I love those opposable thumbs on your feet, by the way. Your husband must have a lot of fun with them...Do your breasts look like a human's, or are they different?"

I blushed green, knocking over a pair of prisoner's stocks as I backed away from her. "That isn't a question I feel comfortable answering."

"It's okay." The woman unbuttoned her labcoat. " _You can look at mine._ "

Seriously? I thought, turning a deeper shade of green. _"That's really not necessary."_

I sneezed, wiped my nose on my fur, then sneezed as more dust entered my nostrils.

Old Lady Gaga grimaced in disgust. "You're right. _Maybe a bath first."_

I tried the door, but it was, of course, locked.

The woman took a puff, waved a badge at me. "C'mon. I'll show you back to your room."

She was actually pretty decent about the whole thing. I can't say the same for the rest of the employees.

I had only gotten to the point of putting on a fresh set of clothes when a group of burly men in white forced me out of my room by gunpoint.

"Put those away," I scolded. "I've already agreed to do anything you want."

They did not.

I was led down through the building, to the tram I often took to meet with Shasharmazorb.

They threw a black bag over my head, and when it came off, I stood behind a row of old buildings in some cowboy ghost town, watching with horror as soldiers coerced my dear friend Sharad into fighting a little human girl to the death, the same girl who had previously come to me asking questions about Ernie.

As punishment for ending the battle in a stalemate, the cruel bastards killed the child's parents right in front of her, and cut off my tail. I should have been grateful that they spared my life, but I couldn't help but feel sorry for the other girl's parents.

As the men led me away from this wooded death arena, I passed by Sharad, briefly speaking to her in Wava. "You made me proud. Killing that girl would seem like the only way to please God, but our God teaches us to make sacrifices for love and the greater good. What happened after was their fault, not ours. Give to Caesar what is Caesar's, give to God what is God's."

As they led me away, I could only hope that Sharad would absorb this lesson somehow, and grow stronger in the faith.

I gave David a small envelope, containing my wedding ring and an explanation in Wava.

Sacrifices had to be made.

They separated me from my husband and his mistress.

On my planet, we have warriors called the Nemmshikk. The word means `tail stump.'

When the armies of certain countries captured female warriors, they'd sever the captives' tails, robbing them of their beauty, their balance, their ability to climb. Their fellow fighters would in turn sever their own tails, in honor of those maimed. The ferocity of the Nemmshikk was a thing of legends.

Their motto, `Tail for tail', did not suit the forgiving nature of my Lord, but I would be a Nemmshikk, just the same. As Vilamasa, the most notorious of all Nemmshikk is famous for saying, ` _Chik Tarrudohfohfua_ ,' a simple phrase that translates as `You have stolen from me my pride.'

I muttered this phrase to myself as I pondered ways to throw a wrench into Mr. Weyland's plans, to help this `Sil' girl escape.

 _Chik Tarrudohfohfua._

[0000]

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611602 (Ellie's Journal - Cont'd)

* * *

[0000]

I must have stared at the man for over a minute, trying to formulate a response that I didn't have, afraid he'd kill me if I said the wrong thing, or worse, nothing at all.

I felt like I were in the Monkey House, staring out the window at zoo patrons behind glass.

I always thought it funny that apes flung feces, but now, as I found myself trapped in a similar prison, I decided they did it because they didn't have any _rocks_.

"Well?" the man prompted.

I swallowed, trying to picture this alien place he wanted me to describe.

Maybe a stretch of rocky soil in the Utah Salt Flats? With quarries and red plants everywhere? Little round adobe huts where bleeping robots gave messages to old swordsmen in dusty robes? "There were a lot of _eggs_...And those _bug thingies._ "

No big stretch of the imagination there. I just described Shasharmazorb's room.

"What else did you see?" he asked with impatience.

I pretended to be trying to remember really hard.

I opened my mouth to utter an excuse, but at that precise moment, I heard the chirp of a radio.

Weyland picked up. _"This had better be important."_

I could just barely hear the garbled voice, but I could understand this much: "Sir, she's taken the helicopter."

"Jesus," Weyland muttered. "I'm on my way."

The man jabbed a finger in my direction. _"To be continued."_ He marched out of view.

The wall closed over the observation window like a tomb closing scene I glimpsed on a Jesus movie my parents once skipped over while watching TV.

 _"Well this is nice!"_ Josh groaned. "What do we do now?"

"Go back, I guess," I said.

"And how are we going to do _that_ , exactly? We can't even get out!"

" _There's always a way out_ ," Zack muttered.

Julia hugged me. "Anyways, it's been very nice to meet you."

Zack poked the walls. "I'm tired of all this _Hunger Games_ shit."

"You think if I kill all of you, they'll let me out?"

I didn't notice it at the time, but Ms. Snarken had crept in behind us, while we'd been talking with Weyland, hiding in the shadows. She had done a chop job to Sarah's wedding dress, converting it to a strange sort of miniskirt.

"Good luck with _that!_ " Kamara said.

Ippi frowned. "You gonna take me, _monchichi?_ "

"No, but my _friends_ will."

The female stomped up to her, crossing her arms, tail snapping angrily. "I wasn't talking about them, _light brown chocolate_ , I was talking about _you_. I bet I could crush you under my foot before you took your first swing."

"Is that why you're picking on someone half your age?"

Ippi laughed. " _Foqipi_ , you're not even a _quarter_ of my age!" She backed off, putting her hands on her hips. "When _you_ turn seventy, you're going to _wish_ that you look as good as me!"

Kamara gave her a look like she were crazy.

"She says her people live a really long time," Zack said. "They stay at the physical age of ten until they're in their late twenties, and don't mature to ` _adult twenty year olds_ ' `til they're about sixty. It makes her feel very superior."

"I _am_ superior, baby."

"What does the elevator go to?" I asked Kamara again.

She sighed. " _A lot of broken dreams._ Leave it alone, Ellie."

"Should we go back and get Golic?" I asked.

Josh looked disgusted. "Why are you worrying about _him?_ "

"He was with Julia at LV 426," I said. "I..."

I glanced at the surveillance equipment, deciding it best not to tell the truth. "I... _remembered._ "

This breakthrough excited Kamara so much that she pulled me into a tight hug. "Oh Ellie! I _knew_ you could do it! I'm so happy! This is great! It proves the program is a success! Life _can_ continue in a cloned body!"

That's what she thinks, I thought.

"I liked Golic," Julia said. "He seemed a little strange, but nice."

I heard a rolling grinding noise, and the gate at the end of the chamber slid open.

We stepped through the gate, entering a larger concrete bunker.

Large hypnosis wheels spun endlessly on every wall, the word `sleep' shouting from bright signs in large capital letters.

And then the strobes came on.

"Aw, son of a-!" Zack cried.

We all passed out, from the simple power of suggestion.

I awoke in a private jet with a cream-beige interior. Alone.

Well, unless you count Mr. Weyland as company.

I saw an ocean through the round windows. My seat was leather, couch-like.

Weyland's seat faced me, with a small table in-between. He had his phone out, looking at camera feeds from some security system or another. He paused occasionally to sign documents on a tablet computer. There were recording devices.

I sat up with a start, eyes nervously darting back and forth.

"Don't bother to get up. We've handcuffed you to the chair."

I lifted my arm a little and heard the chains.

The coin was in my left pocket, if I could reach it.

"You know, sleep has tremendous power to unlock _hidden memory centers in the brain_. So... _I was asking you a question..."_

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611501

Personal Diary of Subject 78453760 ("Ernie") (Cont'd)

* * *

A rose is a sexually ambiguous item to a Ss'sik'chtokiwij. We're technically not male or female. Did my secret admirer know this? I'm not sure.

The playing card beneath it didn't help matters. As I may have mentioned before, I was forbidden access to materials about how to be an escape artist, so I knew very little about magic, except that the phrase `Expelliaramus' could knock little sticks out of the hands of children in preparatory schools, and men with silly looking headwear could cause these little squares of paperboard to explode by means of mutant powers. Not terribly factual or useful.

Imagine my surprise when I found a flat gift wrapped package just a few rooms down from mine.

`To Shask Weebelick,' it said. I saw no `From,' only the icon of a castle from a chess game.

A present for me? What was the catch?

For a moment, I savored the uniquely human experience of receiving a present. But then, curiosity got the better of me, and I tore the package open.

Inside I found a kit for a Houdini handcuff escape trick, with a little instruction booklet.

In seconds, my claws got cuffed together. I growled in frustration at the booklet clutched between them.

Sure, I could just have melted them, but it would have ruined such a lovely, thoughtful gift.

I wandered the hallway in search of someone who could possibly help.

I sniffed each door I saw, trying to ascertain who inhabited which room. My olfactory organs picked up an interesting blend of scents, only a tenth of them human.

I saw a hand in a yellow sleeve appear at one window, giving me a thumbs up. The door smelled like my gift, but when I asked if anyone were inside, the hand promptly vanished, due to it being on a kind of video screen, and I heard a lot of yelling and things banging about. I thought it sounded like Pillow, but I couldn't see in.

I continued down the corridor.

I found a cell containing Newt, and Julia's cell, which now, I could tell by scent, had been empty for a few days. I could enter neither, nor communicate with their occupants, due to the electronic locks.

For an entire minute, I sat down on the floor, holding the book open with my feet as I attempted to follow its instructions.

I tried my best, but the lock wouldn't click open. It seemed I would still need outside help.

I detected a strong scent of Pillow around one of the doors, but it was locked and nobody answered my knocks.

After passing a myriad of strangers, I came across Thonwa's cell. Like me, they had put probes in my friend's brain, recording the various regions for activity. The devices stuck out of her head covering through a series of rather crudely fashioned holes, but at least she still had some kind of modest drape for those genitals around her head.

"Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik!" she cried when I came near. "How lovely of you to visit!"

"I'm happy to see you too, sister."

I raised the cuffs. "Could you help me with this magic trick?"

Her proboscis twitched. "Why don't you just _melt them_?"

I frowned. "They're a gift. I don't want to ruin them. I really want to learn."

"Hmmm. _That's a strange gift."_

I tried to break free again.

"You're out of your cell. Someone's going to notice and put you back in."

"That does not concern me," I said. "The Apostles brought many to the faith by their ministry in prisons."

"That is very true."

It took us a long time to figure out how to pick the lock. We talked and sang spiritual songs as I wiggled the pins within the tiny hole.

I would have been caught at once, I believe, had someone else not gotten in trouble on the opposite end of the floor.

Guards rushed past me in the commotion.

Sure, one man murmured into his radio when he glanced my way, but, to my surprise, Thonwa told me to hide (instead of giving myself up) and I was able to sneak back out to work on the cuffs again.

Shockingly, she told me I could do greater good by helping everyone to escape, rather than rotting away in my cell.

The suggestion threw my soul in great turmoil, and I froze. "But the jailer at Paul's prison..!"

"Just undo those cuffs, Houdini," she said, hiding the book. "You can figure out the rest later. When we're out of here."

I stuck the pin in the lock just right, then purred in triumph as the cuffs clattered noisily to the floor.

"I did it!" I cried.

That's when the men in white came rushing at me from both directions, shooting my body full of electrical current.

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611602 (Ellie's Journal)

* * *

Exaggerating my indignant look, I pretended like I were really Ripley back from the dead. "I jump into a _vat of molten lead_ , and clone me out of I don't know what, and you expect me to remember something from years ago."

It was a bluff. Julia's memory didn't even go back to LV 426. If we could just keep it on Fiorina 161...

He shut off his phone, putting the tips of his fingers together. " _Still, you remember my name. And the manner of your death..._ "

"Give me some time." I said.

If Julia could direct me to the right Ss'sik'chtokiwij, who knew about LV 426...Or if I could run away before he finds out the truth...

Weyland begrudged me with a nod. "You're right. This is something we're going to need to work on. _Perhaps with sensory deprivation."_

That sounded scary, but I accepted it as a means to get me out of the hot seat.

I leaned to the left, staring out the window. "Where are we going?"

"America."

"I thought we were _in_ America," I protested.

Weyland shook his head. "The site is called _Isla Fantasma_. ` _The Island of Ghosts_.' It's off the Gulf of Paraguay." As an afterthought, he added, "The gulf is where Argentina used to be. You should see aerial photographs of Antarctica. It would explain a lot. _Customs can get a little funny about certain zoological specimens_ , so we chose the location accordingly."

"What about that house in the minefield? It looked like some old American home."

"We had plans for introducing someone who resembled your grandfather. To jar your memories. We discontinued that module the moment you found the facility."

Part of my family. Described as a `module.' I shivered.

Recently, before I got captured, dad had been talking about taking a little trip to visit Grandpa Bill in Wichita.

"Did Grandpa Bill have active landmines in his yard?"

Weyland nodded. "He would have put them there in 2018."

"But that's _two years_. Dad said we'd be going there _next month._ Did you want us all to get blown up?"

He shook his head. " _It's part of a strategy._ Surround a person with a row of pictures in disarray, give them enough time, and they eventually try to straighten them."

Afraid to show how little I knew, I ventured, "He was crazy, wasn't he? Got locked away or something, right? And I was supposed to be...older?"

The man cast me an icy look. I was too scared to ask why.

I had the coin out, hiding it in my palm. I had no idea how to pick a lock with it.

"Are you hungry? There's a kitchen in the back."

I had no words.

Weyland looked at his watch. "It's two forty-five. Your little fight happened some time after twelve forty. Of course, it's about five in the States. One of the great things about owning your own island is that you can change the time to anything you want, and people just have to accept it. Does a BLT sound good to you?"

"Where are my friends?" I asked in a sharp tone.

Weyland pushed a button on an intercom. "Two BLT's please. Use the lemon twist on mine. Sierra Mist and a pina colada."

He turned his attention to me. "I get regular treatments, but the medicine is helping with my appetite."

A mere look told him I didn't care.

"Your friends are all safe."

I didn't believe him, but the information didn't do me any good, either way.

"Why are you taking me to America?"

He crossed his legs. "Ripley, you have a skill set we desperately need. You see, one of our, let's say, _test animals_ has escaped the facility, and we need you to bring her back."

I doubted it was as simple as all that, especially the target of this little `game hunt.' "And why should I help you?"

An Asian woman in a tight fitting stewardess outfit came up to the table, setting down plates. The BLT's were mouth watering, just to smell and look at. We had seasoned fries, too.

"In the Thirteen Pillars, you have to go to an underground pub to get food like this. _Kosher laws_." He cleared his throat. "Let me ask you something, Ellie. Do you like your friends, Josh, David, Kamara, Sarah and the others?"

I nodded.

"Good," he said. "I do too. That's why I want us to work together, to do whatever we can to protect our little family.

"That thing, that creature that escaped, it's trouble. We don't know what it will do, or who it will attack. It's already killed three of my men."

I eyed him with skepticism, then stared at my food, wondering if it were truly safe to eat.

"If you follow my directions, your friends will live, and I'll make good on my promises about the condominiums. The arrangements _are_ real, accessible by helicopter and boat. David and his little family can live there for the rest of their lives in freedom.

"You, of course, will be free to be a normal human girl. We can either send you to live with David and the others, or we can arrange for a nice foster family to take care of you. No more Learning Town."

"If I don't cooperate?"

He stuck a seasoned fry in his mouth. "You should try these. They're really good."


	15. Chapter 15: Selva Mil Demonios

I hadn't given it much thought before then, but my right forearm looked perfect, like it hadn't been burned at all. As I stared, Weyland muttered, "Synthetic skin. Applied with surgical adhesive. Pretty seamless, don't you think? Your real skin appears to be regrowing itself quite well underneath. It was the last time I checked."

I had nothing to say to this. In fact, I actually preferred my arm the way it was, so I could at least see what kind of freak I was underneath. Like always, they had buried what was true and real behind a smokescreen of lies and deception.

I looked away.

We sat inside a lozenge-like bubble at the top of the jet, the windows offering a spacious view of the world outside. The room looked like a regular plane interior, except a little roomier, the seats more widely spaced apart, kind of like recliners, overhead bins large enough to fit loaded golf bags.

Behind me (I had to crane my neck around to see it) stood a rounded wall with some kind of projector screen or TV monitor covering it. Blank. The top of a staircase could be seen jutting out of the carpet.

"You didn't answer my question," I said as I watched the man eat.

"Did you know we've cloned more than a hundred of you?" he said. "We put a dozen in the Home Project. Twelve separate territories, nearly one hundred percent identical geographically.

"The average human child doesn't go more than twenty to thirty miles from home every day. We transplanted trees, built houses, the whole nine yards. At the center of it all is, of course, Region 13, Learning Town and the DAMBALLAH complex."

My mind reeled at the implications of all this. Hiking around the complex would have led me in a complete circle. I wouldn't have been able to tell if I was in a carbon copy of my own city until I was standing outside the school.

"What are all those girls _inside?_ _The army girls?_ "

"They failed the Home Project. Too rebellious or sneaky. The script is that mom and dad sent them away to boot camp." He ate some more fries.

My eyes became unfocused as I stared out at the ocean.

"Nice view, isn't it?" Weyland remarked. "It must be interesting to see the interior of a real plane for once, instead of a nerve induction simulation rig."

"I...never took a plane trip to Hawaii," I said. "Did I?"

The man shook his head.

"There were hundreds of people at that airport. You can't tell me that was all staged!"

"Remember how your parents' Sebring got ` _totaled_ ', and you had to ride for an hour in that ` _rental_ ' until you got a new one? We were setting you up for a simulation rig."

I frowned as I remembered how tired I felt in the back seat of that Ford Focus.

I had not been present at the accident, so I had no way of knowing if all of this were true.

Try as I might, I couldn't get the pick working in the lock enough to free my hands. My distraction and clanking must have gotten his attention, for he asked me, "What do you have there? A hairpin?"

Not wanting to be seen pocketing the coin, I clicked it closed and dropped it between my legs.

"Twist tie from a bread loaf."

He smiled. " _That will never work._ Here."

He unfastened my restraints.

"Why did you put them on me in the first place?" I asked as they fell from my hands.

"Version 41609A tried to stab me to death with a letter opener."

He picked up the coin. "Been awhile since I've seen one of these. Most of our money today is digital. Tragic. You used to be able to _feel it_ when someone picked your pocket."

"You printed your own money!" I cried.

" _It's a lost art._ "

"Why did you put that video chat thing in my hotel room? If you wanted me away from Ernie, why did you let me talk to her at all?"

"It's all part of the experiment. I thought, if the creature somehow used its mental powers to lure you into Learning Town, _enough to entrap you_ , some sort of direct contact may serve to _strengthen_ its power, and we could at last locate the region of the brain that it is using to send or receive those communications."

"Did you find anything?" I asked.

"Nothing yet."

He took a bite of his sandwich, licking mayo off his fingers. "You know, Ellie, we had a boarding school module if you just so happened to excel at the comprehensive exam we cleverly inserted in your day-to-day school experience."

"You put me through this little game because I failed the SAT?"

Weyland laughed and shook his head. "That's rote learning. Albert Einstein didn't get where he got with a little paper intelligence test. Neither did Bill Gates. Acquiring genius was the secondary objective of this project. A happy little accident, if you will.

"Sadly, you didn't qualify for any of those."

I glanced out the window. I thought Paraguay would be within sight somewhere, but it wasn't. I only saw white birds and an ocean. "What about art? I think I would have been good at it."

The man snorted through his nose. "So does the majority of the world's population. Everybody thinks that they're an artist, musician, actor or writer, but only a tenth actually become recognized for their works in any significant way, and half those people fail to make it an economically viable career, forced to supplement their source of income with other jobs."

I decided to finish my sandwich. "Your percentage seems kinda small. What about architects? Fashion designers?"

"...Photographers?" Weyland added. "Thanks to computers, anyone with quarter of a brain can be any one of those things. Taste is largely subjective, and the world is too overpopulated for aesthetics to be of much value."

 _"So you were preparing me for the real world."_

He winced. " _Sort of_. My point was that art doesn't have the value it used to, especially coming from a person doesn't have the right social connections, or salesmanship."

"Like me."

He gobbled the last of his BLT. "Your art teachers were coached to approve of everything students made, ` _a gold star for effort'_. We coached your classmates to ignore your attempts. Criticism and rules spur rebellion and innovation. Generic praise and lack of notice leads to despondency, distraction, wandering into other fields."

" _Like sports._ "

"There's a lot of _teamwork_ in sports," he said " _Very athletic._ Perfect traits for the military."

I was both scared and angry, but I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing I was either. "So this whole Learning Town thing, that was, what, just a big training course?"

"An _advanced_ training course, but yes."

"Boot camp is supposed to prepare you for real world combat. Do you mean to tell me that creatures like that octopus and that panther thing exist out there somewhere?"

"Actually, those were just some of our less successful creations. We were testing them to see if they had any military applicability, see who is king of the evolutionary mountain, so to speak."

Seeing that I'd finished my fries, he pushed his towards me.

"No thanks." That's when I noticed he had succeeded in deflecting my question again. "You're going to _kill me_ if I refuse to help, aren't you?"

The stewardess lady brought him a green smoothie. Noticing my stares, he said, "It's loaded with protein, brain boosters and vitamins. Want one?"

I didn't answer.

He sighed. "If you must know, we're actually discussing various methods of using you as a _breeder._ "

"Like _Sarah_ ," I said.

I thought the man would be pleased that I `remembered' this, but instead he gave me a dirty look, like he had seen through my little deception. " _What has she told you?_ "

I swallowed hard. " _Nothing_. Just that they were breeding her for a program."

He furrowed his brow, but questioned no further.

"You're the next evolutionary step in your genetic line. It has to be preserved. Improved."

"Will I be with... _my friends_ during this breeding process?"

This prompted a heavy sigh. "Look. _Let's cross that bridge when we come to it._ The point is, there's a whole world out there for you to see, and missions to accomplish. I'm giving you the choice between freedom and years on a maternity bed."

I shivered. The man always expected the impossible, and I doubted I could jump through all his hoops. "Would I at least to choose my partner?"

The man looked angry. I could see red creeping into his cheeks. "Ellen, did you listen to what I just said? _You don't want that!"_

"How do you know what I want? Don't I have a say in this?"

He rubbed his face in frustration. "No, you don't get to choose your partner. There's a lot of _eugenics_ involved. I don't think you understand what I'm trying to tell you."

Whatever it is, it didn't sound good to me. "I was only afraid I'd fail."

Weyland put a hand on my shoulder. "Don't be. _You'll be fine._ "

"All right," I groaned in resignation. "How am I supposed to find this `experiment' of yours?"

The man stood up. _"I'm glad you asked."_

He nodded toward the staircase. "C'mon. I've got some friends I'd like you to meet."

It was a kind of airbus. Spiral stairs took us down behind what appeared to be a first class passenger compartment. Not quite as luxe as the amenities upstairs, but still industry standard first class, nonetheless.

They had devices I've never seen before. One seat even had a holographic movie player.

The film showed a bikini clad woman with bleeding legs standing in a half capsized boat on the ocean, bulging eyes sweeping her surroundings in terror.

Weyland leaned close to the little woman, smiling a little. "Watch this."

He raised his voice. "Look out behind you!"

The woman did.

A second later, a shark popped out from the opposite side of the boat, dragging her into the water with a scream.

A fast scrolling line of acting and production credits appeared in the air.

I thought about myself as that woman, an `actress' in someone's interactive film, placed there only for giggles. It made me feel very cold.

We passed through first class, into a boardroom.

A long ovoid table occupied most of the compartment, encircled by twelve padded swivel chairs.

With the exception of the area that led to the cockpit (presumably), the walls all had video monitors the size of movie screens, all displaying the static logo of a snake's head emerging from a flower.

The table was scattered with sodas, papers and tablet computers, its seats occupied by a strange assortment of faces, one of them Pillow's, bottle feeding what appeared to be a small version of herself.

Ippi, clad in a black-pink colorblock dress, sat on one a wooden buffet, tail idly thumping the paneling.

I assumed she and Pillow had introduced themselves to the others in my absence, for nobody seemed surprised to see them. They didn't even stare.

Near the door, Mr. Hattam in his yellow suit spun around and around in his seat. Josh, in contrast, sat very still, examining papers like an adult.

At the head of this table, I saw a fierce looking Japanese man with wildly spiked hair and sunglasses. I recognized him right away from Julia's memory. "That's...Mr. Yutani, isn't it?"

Weyland smirked. "That's good. Tell me, who do you remember from the _Nostromo_?"

I paused, giving him an educated guess. "...Bishop?"

He nodded. _"Who else?_ "

I decided I'd have to be careful about reporting everything I knew to him. I could see this being a real problem when the mission ended. _"I'm still trying to remember._ "

He looked disappointed, but said nothing, leading me to the second seat at the head of the table.

"It looks like we're just about packed to capacity," said a feminine looking man with thick eyebrows and a head of dark curly hair. "When is someone going to tell us what's going on, and why we're in South America?"

I stared at him. Vertical stripes and khakis really didn't suit him.

Weyland took a deep breath. " _We're waiting on one more person._ "

In stepped a pale gnome-like man in a gray suit and black slacks, with a corona of wispy gray-white stubble surrounding his big bald spot.

Zack snapped his fingers and pointed. "I got it. I remember who you remind me of now. You ever watch reruns of the _Love Boat_?"

"No," the man replied in droll fashion. "I do not."

"Xavier Fitch, everyone," Weyland said. "As head of the Sil project, I'll leave it to him to explain the mission and your individual roles."

Xavier activated the screens, showing us images of chemical formulas, diagrams of DNA and images of fertilized human cells being injected with chromosomes, a color coded chart on another screen providing additional details.

The man explained how they spliced human and other types of cells with DNA coding found on a space transmission from an unknown planet.

Mr. Yutani drummed his fingers on the table impatiently, but didn't interrupt.

A bony blonde woman with a jagged pageboy haircut picked up a tablet computer, reviewing the data. Her thin lips narrowed into a frown. "Is this real?"

Xavier looked flattered. "Yes. Very."

"And the cells didn't reject the hybridization?"

"Laura Baker," Weyland said. "Molecular biologist. We've hired her as a consultant on this expedition."

Zack stopped spinning in his chair, in favor of idle half rotations. "She... _doesn't seem to be up to speed with the program._ Couldn't find anyone in-house?"

"The choice is intentional, Mr. Bottomiller," Weyland said. "You can't think outside the box if you only work with people inside it. You should ask her about the mouse brains."

Zack stopped rocking, sitting bolt upright. "What about the mouse brains?"

His question got ignored. Laura asked a technical question about the embryos and fertilization, then cursed under her breath as she dabbed a blotch of spilled Coke off of her tan suit coat.

"This is all very fascinating," said a tough looking man with angular features, black hair buzzed and spiky on top. "But this seems to be an odd crowd for a science class."

Mr. Yutani raised a hand to silence him, but Weyland muttered something to him, and he dropped it. _"We'll get to that in a moment, Mr. Lennox."_

Xavier advanced the presentation software to display video and images of a girl my age, sitting in a little prison cell by herself. She seemed very lonely.

I guessed her to be a clone, but she didn't look like me or any of those girls in the hospital wing.

"You made it sound like she was some kind of monster," I said. "But she's just a girl. Like me."

"Actually," Weyland replied. "Neither one of you are ` _just a girl_.'"

"You're not monsters, either," Xavier quickly interjected.

Weyland cast him an annoyed glance. "I agree. This is all about containment."

"No. _This is about the annihilation of a perfectly good specimen."_

"Xavier, we've had this discussion before. We're not going into it again."

Zack spun his chair to face them both. "Ooh! Ooh! _Tell me_! I want to argue too!"

Weyland suddenly looked pained, clutching his forehead. I saw him swallow a handful of tiny pills.

"Are you all right?" said a fat black man with a woven white cap. His eyes looked strange, one lid heavily drooping, the other with a brown splotch across the white portion.

" _Fine_ ," Weyland muttered.

"I sensed a lot of pain."

I stared at the man's blue African style jacket. It looked very pretty, unlike the tough guy's boring gray plaid.

Michael rubbed his head some more. "Explain to me again why you hired this man, Fitch?"

"He's an _empath_. Mr. Smithson can sense people's emotions. He can read a criminal's thought patterns from body language. We're hoping we can use his talent to locate our runaway."

"You know what I see? I see a man with an uncanny grasp of the obvious."

"These days, Michael, _that can be a rarity, in and of itself."_

Weyland frowned, but didn't disagree.

Personally, I thought Mr. Smithson seemed nice, but he needed to shave a bit more carefully. He'd missed several spots.

Xavier showed us video a video clip of Sil sitting in a white room, plugged with tubes, clad in a diaper. It reminded me of pictures they showed of space monkeys.

She stared sullenly at the camera, somehow positioning her head and eyes so that it felt like she were looking right at me.

"We took this recording when she was five years old."

I frowned. She looked twice that age.

Then I looked down at my body and wondered if I had the same problem.

"I can sense fear," the empath said. "Hatred. Loneliness."

Weyland looked disgusted. " _Do you._ How amazing! I can read the emotions of people on recordings too, _every time I go to the movies_. You must _really_ get a heavy vibe from Batman."

"I don't watch movies."

Weyland snatched up the remote, playing a recording of Sil sleeping. The thing disturbed me because her eyes moved triple the speed of a human being.

"We call it IREM. Inhumanly Rapid Eye Movement. These are accompanied by all too rapid interior processes that indicate the stunted growth and overall instability of the specimen. Whether this be due to the gaps in the genetic sequence, or the inferior quality of the human embryos, this project has spiraled dangerously out of control, "

We watched a recording of her smashing out of a hexagonal prison filled with cyanide, leaping into the open.

"Her name is Sil," Xavier said. "It's an acronym based on her chromosomal sequence."

"It's also half of his dead wife's name," Weyland muttered. "That prison was made with triple enforced ballistic glass, by the way."

"Jeeezus," said Lennox.

Xavier's face flushed red, probably from the comment about his wife. "Twenty four hours ago, she escaped from one our test facilities, killed three guards, a pair of German shepherds, and leapt over a twenty foot security wall topped with razor wire."

"Her concrete motor skills are quite remarkable," Weyland added. "With no prior training, she has taken off with one of our best helicopters, one containing enough fuel to carry her to the center of the American Midwest without crashing."

I thought that was amazing fuel economy, even with a full tank, but there was still a lot I didn't know about the future.

"I'm assuming, since I'm involved," said the spiky haired American. "We're not here to bring this thing back in."

Xavier and Pillow exchanged uncomfortable glances.

"Not after all those deaths," Xavier said in an almost inaudible tone.

Weyland crossed his arms. "That's right, Mr. Lennox. The goal is to find and neutralize the target before it can endanger civilians."

"So what are _all these kids_ doing here?"

Josh and Kamara were poking the screens of their computers, playing some sort of video game that made mounds of holographic cubes silently explode around the table. They chuckled and whispered to each other. No one had paid them any mind. Except me. I was feeling jealous.

Michael put a hand on my shoulder. "Ladies and gentlemen, I introduce Ellen Ripley the Second. As any pet owner can tell you, the best way to catch a dog, is with another dog."

He must have noticed me stiffen at the slight, for he smirked at me and added, "No offense." He patted me on the back. "Ms. Ripley is also a clone, but from a far more stable source of extraterrestrial DNA." He shot Xavier a dirty look.

"Wait," said the curly haired guy. "Wasn't that the woman that died in that viral outbreak, on that ship that crashed?"

"Yes, Mr. Arden. But the cells we extracted contain no dangerous biological contaminants."

I found Mr. Arden's file on a tablet computer. A sociologist seemed a strange choice for this sort of operation, but I guess this to be more `out-of-the-box' thinking.

" _No contaminants that you're aware of_ ," Lennox challenged.

Arden frowned, pursing his plump lips. "And the others?"

" _Only present for emotional support._ The specimen is chronologically an eleven year old. With human DNA, she needs social connections to encourage full cooperation."

Arden cocked a thumb at Zack. "What about that guy?"

"That, Stephen, is a _royal pain in the ass_. He was not invited up here, but somehow he found his way in."

Zack offered him a suspicious looking can of peanut brittle.

Stephen rolled his eyes. _"No thanks._ "

Instead of giving up, Zack rolled a coin across what appeared to be thin air.

 _"He's a relation to Ellie's friend,"_ Weyland groaned.

"What about the other two? The... _Abbayas?_ "

"Ms. Pulsa is a valued member of my scientific team."

This earned an eye roll from her.

"And the other..."

" _I'm also a pain in the ass_ ," Ippi finished.

The empath furrowed his brow, looking very serious. "I'm sensing resentment..."

Weyland rubbed his head. " _And I'm sensing you were a poor investment_. Though I suppose I should be grateful that your so-called _talent_ is based on _visual cues_ rather than Tarot cards or the reading of palms."

"I fail to see the connection."

 _"So much for grasping the obvious._ What are you going to be sensing next? Skepticism?"

The empath opened his mouth to say something, but Weyland jabbed a finger in his direction. "Kindly reserve the use of your _gift_ to the capture of this creature."

"Do we got a RFID on this thing?" Lennox asked.

"Naturally. Everything our labs create has a GPS tag."

Weyland put a map of South America on the screen.

It didn't look like anything I'd recognized from school. Paraguay was more like a peninsula on the ocean, rather than anything with a gulf, and the rest of the continent looked like someone had chopped off the sides with a jagged pair of scissors, turning it into an island. The little fish tail at the far end of Mexico had completely disappeared.

A pair of dots of different colors traveled up the coast of this island, a cluster of yellow pursuing a single red beside the chain of islands along Brazil.

The two yellow dots moved closely behind the red.

"What are we looking at here?" Arden asked.

"We have jet helicopters on the move, piloted by experienced combat pilots. Sil may be a quick study with a chopper, but she hasn't been exposed to battlefield training, even in a simulation."

The red light winked out. A moment later, a man in a beige uniform burst into our conference.

"Sir! We have confirmed direct hits to both engines! She's going down!"

"Excellent, Mr. Marshall," Weyland said. "Have your men follow it to the ground, and retrieve the body."

Zack smirked when he saw the uniformed man. "Cute. What branch of the military does _he_ allegedly represent?"

"Anything I say he is," said Mr. Yutani. "We have full cooperation with the U.S. government."

"But not if you let this girl escape, I take it."

Yutani said nothing in reply.

"Those zoological specimens in the hold," Laura said. "Are those more of your _search dogs_?"

" _You can't hope to do an efficient sweep with just one_ , Ms. Baker, and I made care to select only the most docile, obedient subjects."

"The trouble is, they're pacifists," Mr. Yutani said.

" _We're working on it._ "

"You're certain they can't break out of those cells like this...Sil?"

Weyland puffed out his chest confidently. " _Positive_. Those specimens were extracted from a completely separate area of deep space. One we have far more experience dealing with. The truly dangerous specimens have been left behind on Isla Fantasma."

Zack's hand shot up. "Can you say the name of that island again in a Ricardo Montalban voice?"

"No," Weyland answered humorlessly.

Josh chuckled through his nose.

"You are all dismissed," Weyland said. "You will be summoned once we have need of your expertise."

"The chopper is already been down," said Arden. "It sounds like you don't have need of us at all."

"Stephen, that creature is no mere child. You saw what it did to that cell. If there's a chance that it escaped the wreckage, any chance at all..."

"In other words, _we're the contingency plan._ "

"Can I see the... _zoological specimens?_ " I asked.

Weyland gave Pillow a nod.

As I was leaving, I noticed Zack grabbing Laura by the arm. "Hey, didn't I see you on some cop show?"

I followed Pillow through first class and coach.

I stared at the bandaged stump poking out the back of her scrubs. "I'm sorry about your tail. And your family."

The alien made the sound of a whimpering puppy dog, and then, unexpectedly, gave me a great big hug. I started crying myself.

"That's very sweet," she sobbed. "But we both know it's not the same thing. _My family is alive and well."_

She kissed my head. _"You sweet little girl."_

Her baby wailed a little. She bounced it, held it to her breast.

With her other hand, she took mine, leading into the next compartment.

I saw a ten cell prison, its occupants enclosed in ballistic glass and metal cubes. Each had the basic toilet, bunk and sink, not a lot else.

Only five of these cells were occupied.

Mr. Golic sat in the first cell. Although I could understand why they wouldn't want to put a convicted felon up with the other passengers, his presence on the plane, _period_ , was a mystery. It wasn't like he had special tracking skills or anything. At least, I didn't think.

The cell adjacent held a giant egg in a fancy incubator, and in the others, I saw Lacethanny, Sharad, and this big fat bug thing with a proboscis.

When I saw Ernie, I rushed to her cell door, pressing my hands and face to the glass. I wanted to hug her so badly.

"You kept your promise," she said.

I wiped tears away from my eyes. "I just want to say thank you. I don't know what's going on right now, but I feel at peace now."

I told her about how I died and saw Jesus. "Do you think I'll see mom and dad there? I mean, _I'm not sure they were believers..._ "

Ernie paused and thought a moment. "It is the Lord, not man, that judges the heart. I cannot say for certain whether or not your parents were saved. What I can say is that not everyone will be saved, and not everyone will be condemned. It is popular to quote John 3:16, but few are brave enough to mention verse 18, which preaches slightly more exclusiveness."

I dropped to my knees, weeping. "So you're saying they might be gone forever."

The black face moved closer to the glass. "Are you so certain that they did not believe?"

"We never prayed together. At all. Or went to church, or anything."

" _There were cameras_ ," Ernie said. "Perhaps they were just hiding it."

I sniffed and stood back up. "I hope you're right. They're the only parents I ever had."

"Not so. Our Lord states that anyone who does the Father's will is a brother and sister and mother." She sighed. "You are not the only one who has lost family. Like you, I also had a mother once. And sisters. I _killed_ them. _To save humans."_

"You think they'll be in heaven?"

"They are Ss'sik'chtokiwij. My Lord told me that their day of evangelism is not yet at hand. It's different for humans.

"There was a man named Brice, whom I loved. I often wonder how the Lord judged his spirit. Did your parents at least get the opportunity to hear about Jesus?"

I thought a moment. "I...think so."

"When a human is drowning, a lifeguard will throw them a ring to hold on to, so they can be pulled to safety. If the person refuses to take the ring, and attacks the lifeguard when they jump in and try to help, one does not feel sorry about the drowning."

I suddenly felt even more depressed. "You think mom and dad did that to Jesus?"

"I cannot say. I did not know them."

Ernie passed a small fuzzy piece of cloth through her food slot. "I made this for you."

A sewn heart with my name embroidered on it, a little silver cross above the name. On the reverse was my silhouette portrait, the kind they made in those old carnivals. I stuffed it into my pocket. "Thank you."

I talked with Ernie for a few moments, on how to be a good Christian, then visited the other cells.

I said hi to Sharad, Lacethanny and Golic (in that order) then Pillow introduced me to the big bug with the proboscis.

I'd seen Thonwa briefly in my run through the hospital complex. She seemed nice enough, if you ignored the squirming tentacles under her hijab thing.

Pillow opened the cell with the egg in it, inviting me in. "This is a special privilege I share with very few people. You are one of rare individuals who actually understand what this egg means to me."

"Can I hold it?" I said.

Pillow swallowed and nodded. "Be careful."

She undid some pieces on the incubator, rolling it out on a little mat.

It was about the height of a suitcase, and as wide as two full grown babies stuck together, or one of those wheeled bowling ball caddies.

"You don't want to wear anything sharp," she said. "You'll puncture the egg. David and I normally strip to our underwear..."

I stepped back a little. " _That's really okay..._ "

Pillow sighed. "I'm sure a _quilt_ will work just as well."

"I'd rather keep my clothes on, ma'am."

The alien giggled. "I'm sorry. I didn't explain this properly. You'd keep your clothes on, and we'd put a quilt _between_ you and the egg."

She took out a large ovoid slip cover made of sewn together pieces of fabric, pulling it over the egg. "It was Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik's idea. The top part has buttons so the baby can breathe, or hatch. I really thought we'd have no use for it. I mean, _there aren't any heater elements in it..._ "

I sat next to the egg. "So what do I do?"

"Just wrap your legs around it, rest your head on its side, rock gently back and forth. I think, even through the fabric, you should be able to hear its heart beating."

I did.

I felt a bump, then heard a crack.

"Oh my God!" I cried. "I broke it! I'm so sorry!"

Hissing something I couldn't understand, prayers, perhaps, Pillow thrust her baby into my arms, unbuttoning the top of the cover.

She took one look, then exclaimed, "It's hatching!"

I leaned closer, excited at the thought of seeing this brand new organism being birthed into the world.

Pillow muttered prayers as she pressed a device to the top of the egg. "O Ponai, guki ceo hakafhabtiri riko daloia. Guki ceo briungarak, briqurub kai tarru riko vusafo doyipathilon."

"What are you saying?" I asked.

She didn't answer.

She stared at the readout for a moment, then gasped in horror.

"What's wrong?"

"She's still too human! She hasn't grown any egg cutters! She'll die in there!"

"Then just crack it open!"

You know how a cat's hair poofs out when it gets scared? Pillow was doing that with her fur. "I can't do _that!_ "

"Why not? The baby needs your help!"

 _"It just isn't done!_ "

"I don't understand."

Pillow clenched her fists tightly. "Ellie, I love you, but you're an idiot. Hasn't anyone ever told you about how birds develop from the egg?"

"They...have to peck their own way out," I said slowly. "So they can become strong."

The grave look on Pillow's face told me I'd given the correct answer.

She removed the quilt from the egg completely, kneeling beside it as she prayed some more.

"Ponai, guki ceo hakafhabtiri riko daloia. Guki ceo briungarak, briqurub kai tarru riko vusafo doyipathilon."

Outside, on the cushion, Nathan started crying, as if also wailing for the helpless baby.

"What if you just crack it a little?" I asked.

Pillow chuckled. "Dear, this is a _qoobdina_ , not your hard boiled breakfast." She knocked on the top of the egg, but it only sounded like someone tapping on a boot.

"Isn't there some way you can...poke a hole in it or something?"

Pillow looked at me like I were crazy, then paused a moment in thought. "You know, you may be onto something."

She took out a metal fork, scraping the exterior with its tines until a pile of grimy shavings gathered on the mat.

"What are you doing?" I said.

"I'm _scoring_ it."

After a little scraping, she sang to the egg, caressing the side.

We held our breath as the egg rocked back and forth a few times. Pillow sang.

And then, five pale digits emerged from the wall of the egg.

The fingers balled into a fist around the piece it stuck through, and a hole opened up.

Pillow looked through the hole and smiled, crooning to the infant.

I heard muffled crying, then, after Pillow sang some more, the hole enlarged wider and wider, and a human baby's head poked out, fingers pulling at the opening to make more room.

The baby's pupils looked like minus signs, surrounded by circular brown irises, its tiny hands Caucasian, hairless, but with wrists bearing bands of white fur, like raggedy uneven bracelets.

Pillow cried as she watched the baby crawl out, a fat little body, naked save for the bracelets and a naturally growing sort of asymmetrical fur bikini and furry leg warmers of mismatched length.

"He's cute," I said.

" _She_ is beautiful," Pillow sobbed.

"It's a girl?"

The mother nodded. "Her tail came in shorter than other Abreyas at her stage of development, but I love her just the way she is."

The baby's tail curled quizzically behind her body, a stubby little thing, like that of a toy dog. I smiled. "It looks fine to me."

"It's supposed to be twice that length at birth, but no matter. She's perfect."

The baby crawled up Pillow's body, whimpering as she pawed at her breasts.

The alien nursed her child right in front of me, no "excuse me" or anything. Instead, as her other baby jealously cried, she only pointed to a bottle. "Could you feed Nathan for me, please?"

I picked up the child and did so.

"Well isn't this a Kodak moment?" Lennox said from the door a few minutes later. He pronounced the word funny, like `Ko-dock.' "I don't know whether to hand out cigars or charge for admission."

Pillow spun around, apparently not caring if the man saw her breastfeeding. "Something I can help you with, Preston?"

Mr. Lennox burst out laughing, raising his hands. " _No ma'am!_ We just need Ripley."

She glanced nervously from him to me. " _Be careful._ "

To Preston she said, "If you let Ellie get hurt, you'll soon know the wrath of a Nemmshikk."

The man laughed. "I'll do my best, ma'am."

Preston led me into another compartment, this one a type of cargo hold, lined with unlabeled steel containers.

I had a bomb door beneath me, which made me nervous because the compartment had no windows, and they could just push a button and drop me at any moment. This didn't seem to be a concern for anyone else, but I kept thinking about that man on that old black and white movie, the one where he puts on a cowboy hat and rides out the bomb door on the back of an atomic bomb. The idea scared me.

Two burly clones, one of them Eight, stood ready with guns. Big muscled, square jawed, heads like rocks. Every time I looked at them, I saw the corpse I buried. I had to look away.

Two soldiers accompanied the clones, a man and a woman, both in beige, with shaved heads.

Bishop stood with them, the neck bandages the only thing setting him apart from Mr. Weyland.

Nearby, a blonde woman in a leather jacket and jeans, with half her hair colored purple and shaved down, played with the locks on the containers, clicking them open and closed, open and closed.

"What are you doing!" Preston cried as he watched her.

"It's neat!" the woman said.

I waved to her. "Hi! Who are you?"

The woman straightened, giving me a cheerful wave in return. "I'm Big Bird! The world's first fully sentient synthetic human!" She pointed to her crazy hair. "Like it?"

I shook my head.

Big Bird stuck out her tongue. "Well _I_ do!"

"What do we have in the way of landmarks?" Weyland asked someone on a radio as he entered the room.

"Not much sir," came the answer. "It's in the middle of the Amazon. You're not even going to get a Jeep across it."

"Don't you have flying cars yet?" I asked.

Weyland just laughed at me.

A pair of nearly identical copies of Big Bird, with conservative hairstyles and bland gray suits, led Ernie into the compartment by a leash.

You know I had to hug Ernie the moment I saw her. For a moment, I was truly happy, and everything seemed right with the world. At least, for a little while.

But then I felt a jarring bump, and a cargo door at the rear of the compartment opened, revealing crumbling limestone ruins.

I didn't know where I was. When I asked someone, they only gave me coordinates. I stepped down the loading ramp and found myself surrounded by decaying rock walls, chiseled with the images of jaguars and serpents and death's heads. A weathered acropolis stood in the distance.

In Geography, they showed us pictures of Teotihuacan and Machu Picchu. This ruin reminded me a little of both of those, except there wasn't much left of it. In fact, it seemed that the court for Jai Alai had expanded through most the complex, leaving only a couple shattered Chacmools, essentially reducing an entire ancient city to one big stone parking plaza.

Moss and jungle vines invaded the cracks in the stonework, seeming to have settled into an uneasy coexistence with the surrounding rock ages ago.

Our airbus was one of those VTOL types, with helicopters on the sides, explaining why we'd been able to land without a runway. I hadn't seen the propellers from the top level, but they were there.

My teammates got brought down while I wandered around, looking at everything. Pillow told me she wanted to come along too, but she was too busy with her babies. In fact, she thought she felt a third baby kicking in her stomach.

A new addition was included in our group, a young Hispanic man with a safari hat and a pornographic t-shirt. His role in the team seemed random and maybe irrelevant until I noticed the pack, the gun, the thick boots, and the hunting knife. He injected something in his arms as he sat down on a broken Quetzalcoatl head.

Preston took out a little phone, checking his GPS.

Mr. Smithson had joined our little party, enjoying the sights like a tourist, Xavier and the others close behind, the last of the team only due to scientific curiosity. I doubted they had any essential function in this mission, especially the sociologist, who had nothing to study but us out in the middle of that wilderness.

Weyland stepped down the loading ramp, calling everyone to attention.

"By now, all of you should be familiar with the mission," he said. "But I doubt you are familiar with the terrain. I, for one, certainly am not. For this reason, we have hired a guide. I suggest you listen to him, and do what he says. We're not just contending with the girl now, we're dealing with a section of nature that has thwarted the wheels of human progress for centuries."

He cleared his throat, stepping back. " _Mr. Jimenez._ "

The man with the obscene shirt stepped out in front of our group. "The place you stand in right now is called _Selva Mil Demonios_ , the Jungle of a Thousand Demons.

"People, there are places in the world where man has won the war against nature and got it totally fucked, and others where nature has beat the holy fuck out of him. This is not a place where man won.

"Call it Gaia Theory, evolution, or Satan, but I believe the jungle has a _force_ , and it says to keep the fuck out."

"What dangers should we be looking out here?" Weyland prompted.

"Honestly? This whole jungle is a fucking danger. There's a plant that can drive a six inch spike through your foot, even if you're wearing that kind of boot they use for walking on rebar. There's another that sprays shit in your eyes, so you have to get an operation before you can see again, and that's if you don't inhale the one that melts your brain down to the stem.

"There's a type of mosquito that, if if it bites you, you go into a coma for an entire year. We got a python that's been known to eat grown men, and if you decide to go swimming, say goodbye to your penis. Ladies, I've ever heard of a kind of piranha that swims up a woman's cooch and gets stuck there while she slowly bleeds to death in the water."

"Sounds like a bunch of tribal fairy tales to me," Preston muttered.

"Yeah? I'm just telling you what's in the _news_ , gringo. If you end up coming home in a box, I'm going to say `I told you so.' You want urban legends, I could tell you about the Indians and ghosts. If you're smart, you'd turn around and go the fuck home. This ain't no place for nobody, except maybe an armor plated bot, and _even those_ have been known to wash up down at the end of the Amazon from time to time.

"Mother Nature can and will fuck you up seven days to sundown. _Go home!_ "

"I'm afraid we can't do that," Weyland said. "We just let loose an animal that's more dangerous than anything that jungle can hold."

"If I were you, Mr. Weyland, I'd let the jungle take care of her. Your thing may be a bitch, but it's got nothing on Mil Demonios."

"I wish you were right, Jimenez, I really do. But our subject is going to add an extra Mil to your Demonios."

Jimenez checked his guns. "That's why they pay you the big bucks, huh?"

"Can you tell us more about the ghosts?" I asked.

I saw the color drain slightly from the guide's face. "People talk about the jungle swallowing people up, and I don't think it's just a legend. There _could_ be ghosts or demons up there, but any Indian living for any length of time in this hell hole has to be tougher than shit. Ghosts or no, you don't want to find out what's fucking people up around here."

The team loaded up with guns and survival gear. The scientific team seemed kind of useless, but they came along anyway. So did our `empath.' They all had their phones out, chasing down the girl's GPS coordinates like we played some kind of Pokemon game.

Josh and Kamara got ordered to stay behind, restrained by a pair of soldiers.

"You're not going to kill any endangered species with those guns, are you?" I asked Jimenez as I watched him strap on clips.

" _Hermana_ ," he said. " _We're_ the only thing that's endangered out here."

"So you wouldn't think twice about shooting a cheetah."

He laughed. "You worried about _dodos_ , too?"

When I gave him a blank look, he said, "Cheetah's already extinct. What we shoot out here, ain't nobody gonna miss. They ugly as sin, and eat bullets for breakfast."

The ruins stood on a mountain somewhere above the Amazon river. If Argentina could vanish beneath the waves, it didn't surprise me if this mighty river could also shift around loose through the thick jungle, to anywhere it wanted to go.

We marched down a defile, shuffling across a steep grade to a corroded staircase of vaguely Mayan design.

Right away, our empath stepped on one of those pointy plants Jimenez warned us about, a splotchy orange-pink orchid with tentacular fronds and razor sharp yucca leaves sticking out of it. Our guide hadn't been kidding about it going through boots.

"Why'd you step on that for?" I said. "The leaves are so _tall!_ "

"They weren't when I stepped on it. It's like those _sea plants_ that shrink when you swim by them. _In reverse._ "

Scientists are always talking about discovering a new species every year. I'd been skeptical about that claim until I saw the plant. It didn't look like anything I'd seen in encyclopedias or the internet.

Since Mr. Smithson "Felt things more deeply than most," we had to call down a medic and leave him where he was.

From then on, the rest of my team kept watching the ground for more of these things, hitting them with entrenching tools or hopping over them.

We followed the GPS through miles of thick foliage and swarms of biting insects. We'd all been injected with antivenoms to counteract the mosquitoes and such, but I wondered if it were enough.

In my heat vision, I could see birds, quick moving reptiles, and little monkeys. I asked Jimenez about the latter, but he said not to go near them, that the monkeys had been known to kill people. "Little bitty things," he said. "But they'll fuck you up."

We all found how accurate Jimnez's stories were soon enough, when we discovered the body.

The thing didn't look human. It wore an armor plated suit, a bulky but close fitting getup that reminded me of a superhero costume. Its head, though, was the strangest part: A dreadlocked monster thing with a crab's mouth and a forehead like a Klingon from Star Trek. It smelled like rotten bacon grease and skunk, to an overpowering degree.

"Good God," Steve said, covering his mouth and nose. "Are there more of these things out there? Alive?"

"I don't know," said our guide. "I'd worry more about the thing that killed it."

Laura took samples. The rest of us kept going.

I wanted to talk to Ernie, but Weyland was with us, and I didn't want to give away any secrets. Instead, we made a game out of discovering wildlife with our heat vision, and Ernie taught me some gospel songs. It was nice because I'd never really listened to any gospel before. Someone always interrupted me, distracting me from it.

We had trouble keeping up, especially with all the dangerous flora and fauna. Sil moved really fast. Most of the team tired out, breaking camp a couple miles in.

I continued on with a much smaller, pared down team, consisting of Weyland, Preston, the two jarhead types, clones, androids, and Ernie. Due to our decreased number, I was given a phone, to track Sil myself.

After a long march, Ernie stopped by a tree, catching her breath. "I'm sorry. I don't get much exercise in my cell. I think it's intentional, on the part of the program. Harder for me to escape that way." She waved a claw, urging me to continue without her.

An android stayed with her, to make sure she didn't run off. Weyland ordered the other one to come with him, radioing for a backup replacement.

I patted Ernie's shell and kept going.

As we followed the GPS signal, one of the soldiers, the man I'd seen on the plane, set foot on a section of false ground, falling into a hole. The woman and a female android busied themselves trying to pull the man out.

A mile further, and Preston got winded, sitting on a rock that he'd thrown a snake from.

Weyland who had bragged about jogging a mile every day, stopped with him.

The blip on my map led to a burned out clearing scattered with more stinky crab faced dead things, some half out of their metal suits.

The moment Bishop stepped over one of these bodies, I saw something pointy explode from his chest. He vomited coolant, collapsing to the ground.

And then a living breathing dreadlocked crab thing in glowing green armor plating materialized out of thin air.

Eight and his buddy drew guns, but the thing was faster, slashing their throats open with its double ended sword before they could fire off a round.

My team cleared out of there fast, my armed companions opening fire as they dove for cover.

I stood alone in the open. People yelled for me to get down.

The creature raced toward me, turning invisible as it did so, but my infrared told me exactly where it moved, and where its sword flashed.

I jumped sideways as it charged, and was gratified to see its vaguely humanoid form stumble and fall over a tree root.

Thinking I didn't have the strength to steal his sword, and assuming I could only receive it by being stabbed, I backed away, bracing myself, hands raised in hopes the creature had some peaceful tendencies in its heart somewhere.

I never found out, for in the next instant, a small figure in a hospital smock came leaping from the treetops, making green blood gush from the creature's camouflaged chest.


	16. Chapter 16: Cortador

I stared at the girl speechlessly, unsure what my next words should be.

I waved. "Hello?"

She made no reply.

My team opened fire.

The girl disappeared so quickly into the trees that I couldn't even find her with infrared.

Preston, Weyland, Ernie and the other stragglers came to join us in the clearing.

"What happened?" Weyland asked me.

Sil was dangerous, but I wasn't sure I wanted her dead. Still, I knew enough about hunting to know they were going about it the wrong way. "You scared her."

"We scared _her_?" Preston laughed. "Who's running around the jungle stabbing... _things?_ "

A figure in a safari hat pushed aside some ferns, stepping into the clearing. "Is the ghost gone?"

During our little hike, Jimenez had stepped into the foliage a few times, the first to take a leak, the second for a smoke, _marijuana with an actual brand name on the package_ , from which he didn't return for a long time.

We thought he got killed by something, but apparently he'd just been hiding out.

Preston pointed to the carcass. "He's gone, all right. Did Weyland pay you to take pot breaks?"

Jimenez shook his head. "Mr. Weyland paid the only motherfucker crazy enough to come out with you gringos to the most dangerous jungle on earth. I stop where I want to, smoke Maharishi Hashishis where I want, go home when I want. I got no competition, amigo. You should be glad I'm still here." He gobbled down a candy bar.

Weyland looked uncomfortable, but didn't disagree.

For hours, we hiked the jungle, waving around phones to find Sil's GPS signature.

Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, being out of shape, could not keep up with me, though I wish she could've.

As it neared dusk, I learned that infrared was a standard feature on all modern phones, a function law enforcement officials used to spy on people like hackers used to do with laptops. Weyland's were modified to feed only to HQ, but the idea still bothered me. I was raised to believe that American citizens had a right to privacy, when in reality that was an illusion, even outside my little prison island.

Being closest to Sil's signal. I shoved through thick walls of ferns, branches with thick clumps of heavy leaves, clambering over tree roots, sidestepping palms and a myriad of plants I couldn't identify without a book.

All of a sudden, I found myself being pulled against a tree, a claw I could only see via my internal infrared pressing over my mouth, a second slowly pointing to the branches above us.

I looked up and saw the girl. I pressed my back to the bark, indicating that I understood.

My possible ally drew a pistol-like weapon, but before he could do anything with it, the girl dropped on his back, running him through.

I dove behind some bushes, skirted a tree, but the girl just knocked me to the ground, pointing the now visible gourd shaped weapon to my temple.

I wrenched it away from my head the second she pulled the trigger. The blast reduced the bough of a nearby tree to sawdust.

It took all my strength to fore the space gun away from my head.

I poked her in the eye, throwing the weapon into the bushes. That _really_ pissed her off.

She ran to the gun.

"I don't want to hurt you!" I yelled at her, grabbing her arms.

She fought her way out my grip, so I knocked her on her butt with a sweep kick.

We wrestled, rolling and shoving each other through the undergrowth.

"Sil!" I cried. "I don't want to hurt you!"

She only responded with growling.

"Can you understand me?" I shouted. " _I don't want to hurt you!_ "

"Fuck!" Sil snarled. "Motherfucker!"

I chalked it all up to rudeness until she suddenly gave me a weird look, repeating, "Motherfucker?"

How could I not look at her like she were crazy?

Was that the only word she knew?

I supposed it wasn't surprising, if nobody ever told you anything, and that's all the men were shouting while you tried to escape...

I pointed to my chest. "Friend!"

"Fuck you!" she yelled, picking up a rock.

I knocked her head into a yucca hybrid. The spines stabbed her in the skull, but they bent rather than going through bone.

"Fuck you!" she said again.

"I understood you perfectly fine the first time!" I groaned.

She tried to bash my head against a rock, but my head hit air, and we fell down a steep grade scattered with rocks and weathered chunks of stonework.

Hands clutching at each other's throats, we rolled through clumps of sharp plants, creepers, pineapple-like things that were probably toxic, bashed into broken statuary, toppled a headless stone wrestler, tumbled down an uneven busted up limestone staircase.

The staircase came to an abrupt end before either one of us noticed.

The last step became sort of a ramp, and we went airborne.

The view reminded me of someone kicking a camera out the window of a building. The sky became ground, the ground became air.

Rocks, dirt, Sil's smock, clouds, palm branches, stone block, dirt.

Sil's legs and arms, dirt, stone block, sky, rock, tree branches, cloud, vine.

Sil's hair.

Sil's feet.

Sil's fists punching me.

We hit a rock shelf, rolled off it.

Dirt, stone block, branches, underwear (it was only a smock), creepers, dirt, rocks.

Cloud, dirt, rock, stone, jewel encrusted Conquistador's helmet, rock, branches, sky.

Okay, so half the time I didn't know what I was looking at. All I know is, Sil was choking me, the palm tree on a cliff above us kept getting smaller, and it really hurt bad when my head hit that jutting piece of rock...wherever it was.

As I slowly lost consciousness, Sil raised a limestone block, one chiseled with half an iconograph, over my head.

She froze, staring at me for an entire minute.

She tossed the rock aside. "Friend."

I passed out.

I awoke on a bed in the airbus's infirmary, one of the blonde androids treating me, though not the crazy looking one, because she was busily painting my toenails different colors.

Another lozenge shaped compartment. I could see the propellers outside the window. We had returned to the air, flying over jungle.

My strange assortment of friends and associates stood around me, looking both worried and relieved.

I saw hairy arms sticking out of short sleeved medical scrubs, minus signs staring down at me. A harelipped mouth curled into a smile when our gaze met.

I noticed the sun was just barely creeping over the horizon. "Pillow! How long was I out?"

"It's been a few hours."

I groaned, rubbing my throbbing head. "How far did I fall?"

"I don't know. Mr. Weyland says it was a great distance. I hear it took a lot of effort just to pull you back up."

The room contained five beds, four including the one I lay upon, plus a handful of veterinarian style examination tables. I stared at the emergency stretchers, the cabinets full of medical supplies.

An IV ran into a vein in my upper forearm, feeding from a pumping machine set up beneath my bed, rather than from above. Monitors on the ceiling displayed patient vitals and entertainment.

Only one screen showing entertainment right now, the one above Mr. Smithson. The man scratched at an elevated foot mummified in gauze and wrappings, paying no attention to the programming, at the moment an extremely graphic commercial about tampons, one where the woman actually slides it in while talking about how comfortable it is. Reusable, the text said. Leaves hands clean and dry.

"Gross," I said, pointing to the video. "How do they get away with that stuff?"

Pillow chuckled. "If more of young women like you thought about things that way, this world would be a lot better off. Even the programming on _my world_ doesn't get _this_ vulgar."

"What about censorship?" I asked. "Family programming?"

"It doesn't exist like it used to. It takes knowledge and connections to get acceptably viewable Christian entertainment."

While she spoke, a commercial for something called Commander Bunny Pot flashed on the screen. A man puffed a joint in a fancy looking condo, a naked woman appearing out of his cloud of reefer smoke. Full frontal nudity.

"It was only a matter of time," Smithson said. "For years before censorship disappeared completely, kids always found stuff on the internet, no matter how hard the parents tried to shield them from it. If their family had a blocker, they just went to a friend's house."

The next commercial: Men dressed in turbans and robes leading mules across a desert. Its title: _Abraham and Lot._

I pointed. "But you still have _bible movies_. How does that work?"

Pillow groaned, crossing her arms. _"It doesn't."_

The commercial skipped ahead to a scene of the two men kissing, then having sex in a tent. Following this, the two men ran around in Sodom, telling everyone to flee from a giant asteroid.

Abraham held a dead body as he cried to God, "Why did you let this happen to these people? You are supposed to be love personified!"

Pillow sighed and shut off the `entertainment', leaving only Mr. Smithson's vitals on the display. "Can't even get a bible story right," she growled. "The world's going to hell in a handbasket."

"On a related note, Ms. Pulsa," Big Bird said. "You have watched the entire _Happy Days_ series. May I recommend a related program entitled _Laverne and Shirley?_ "

Pillow moaned and rubbed her face.

"I believe that is your `no' response, if I am not mistaken."

Zack idly shuffled a deck of cards. "You should see their video games. And the evening news."

"But those have been bad for awhile," said Pillow. "The video games, I mean. Even before, they had _Grand Theft Auto_ , and that thing called _Contra_ where the soldier shoots at an extraterrestrial that looks like Ernie's grandmother."

I'd been dressed in a hospital smock. Someone had braided parts of my hair, spraypainted sections green and purple.

Noticing Josh sitting next to me, and in a place facing where my smock was on crooked, I suddenly felt self conscious about my semi-nudity. I don't know how long he'd been watching me.

Regardless, of the awkwardness, I still felt a little glad to know he cared enough to watch.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," Smithson said from the other bed. "I was tired of getting those throbbing headaches."

I stared. "Because you're an empath?"

"Yeah. I saw your injury, and I experienced what you felt. The pain was so excruciating at one point that I actually had to leave the room."

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks. I guess."

Zack's yellow sleeved hand reached around Josh's head, and a beautiful red-purple orchid popped out. "A little gift. No toxins. I checked it before I brought it in."

I looked up and saw several spots on the magician's neck and face covered with small bandages. "What happened to you?"

He smirked. "You ever try wearing yellow around a beehive?"

Ippi stepped around him, approaching the bed. It shocked me that she even bothered to visit. "You look heavier than you look, _foqipi_. It's good those jungle vines are so thick."

"You should see her climb a tree," Zack said. "It's _fantastic._ Someday, I want to incorporate it into my act."

Ippi elbowed him. "In your dreams, _deveko_. And the next time I catch you peering at my butt when I'm climbing, I'll break your arm!"

They backed away as other members of the team stepped in.

Preston patted me on the shoulder. "Nice try, kid. You almost got her."

"Good to see you feeling better," Laura said.

Preston's blue eyes seemed to be regarding me with fatherly compassion. Was I imagining it?

Feeling too emotional about it, I looked away.

"How is Ernie?" I asked Pillow.

She activated the screen above me, and the slimy black creature's face appeared. I waved.

"I am pleased to see you are all right," she said. "I've been praying quite fervently for your quick recovery."

I smiled. "Thanks."

I told her about the television.

Ernie shook her head sadly. "I have been told many things about earth. A great deal of corruption has spread in the hearts of men, and this is only the tip of the proverbial iceberg."

This gave me pause, because I neither wanted to go back to Learning Town, nor was I sure I wanted to see the rest of the `iceberg.'

Pillow put Thonwa on the screen, then Lacethanny and Sharad. They all seemed glad to see me alive and well.

"You heal surprisingly quickly," Mr. Weyland said as he leaned over my bed.

"What did you do with Jeff?" I asked.

He chuckled. "You actually _miss him?_ "

The look on my face said, `Yes, but...'

He sighed. " _He's part of an experiment._ Don't worry. He's still alive. He and his ex girlfriend."

"What about David?"

Weyland nodded. "Currently enjoying a little vacation at their new beach house." He gave Pillow a sideways glance. "They're not as miserable as you might think. I think your friend just didn't want to admit how comfortable he is with his female companion. Even to himself."

Pillow's fur bristled in indignation, but no words passed in between them.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"The GPS signal moved a hundred miles. We think she's run to a nearby town and boarded the Cortador. It's an older style train line running toward the north." He paused. "How do you feel about skydiving?"

A few minutes later, I stood inside the cargo compartment, clad in one of those spandex wing suits, heart thundering in my chest as I watched Mr. Weyland stuff items into a little pack I had strapped around my front. My suit was black and steel gray, to avoid detection in the dark.

Thanks to Big Bird, my half braided hair had now been pinned back in a ponytail. She had volunteered to stylishly shave part of it off, but I told her no.

"You will want your hair tied up," Weyland had said. "You've got to be able to see where you're going."

Josh was ogling me. Kamara had this look like she thought I'd screw up and lose Sil again.

The first items Weyland put the bag in were `street clothes', which seemed absurdly minimal. "Just a warning. Children aren't viewed the same way they were used to, which is rather disgusting if you ask me. A mother from your era would be outraged to see girls your age wearing things like this, but now it's the norm, and we're trying to blend."

He stuffed my phone inside, along with an earpiece that looked like a hearing aid. "Modified Bluetooth. Keep talking to a minimum until you receive your Family Spirits doll. You'll have to be careful. The autotranslation software can be a little unreliable at times."

Noting my puzzled expression, he said, "Don't ask. You'll find out soon enough. Oh, and check your horoscopes often. You are a Gemini. We will be sending texts through the National Horoscope System to avoid detection."

He took out something that looked like a supermarket price gun, pressing it to my palm. "This is going to sting a bit. I had to modify it for your exoskeleton."

"My what?"

I screamed as something shot bullet-like into my palm.

"Identi-Ease. Contains all your personal identification information. Social security, date of birth, genetic profile, internet accounts, credit cards, family and job history, education, religious and sexual preference, everything that officially makes you `you.' _Obviously we had to falsify some details._ "

This made me uneasy, and puzzled, but I doubted he was in the mood for answering complicated questions. I opted for trivia instead. "There are only twelve pillars in Islam. I understand the thirteen stands for the Thirteen Colonies, but it doesn't really make sense. What's the extra pillar stand for?"

The man looked pained. " _Closedminded intolerance_." He closed the bag. "It's an old joke."

"What does it really mean?"

"Mohammad, the whole Koran, the jury's still out on that one. I don't even think _they_ know. Whatever they say it is, it's bullshit." He shoved a pair of plugs into my nose. "The air pollution is rather thick. Breathe through your nose, out through your mouth. You might not want to wear them inside or you'll sound funny."

Zack slipped into the compartment during this briefing, adding his two cents. "Personally, I'd keep them on. All the time. But that's just a preference."

Weyland squeezed my shoulder, staring very seriously into my eyes. "Our program does not officially exist. You are an orphan, adopted into the United States Young Mentorship and Education Initiative, or YMEI. You don't want to know what the program does. You'll find out soon enough anyway."

"Some say the acronym `Why Me' is a perfect description of the program," Zack said. "Slave labor in the guise of work study."

Weyland glared at him, annoyed.

"Why didn't you tell me about any of this earlier?" I said.

"This world would be too foreign to you." Weyland brushed my hair back, gazing into my eyes. "We were afraid your memories would be irretrievable."

I sighed. If his idea about cloned rebirth had been sound, all of this _probably would_ have been a little too much at once, and I haven't even done my skydive yet.

"I want to come along," Josh said.

"Not yet," Weyland replied. "You'll only slow us down. Wait until she's on the train. You and Kamara."

He frowned, but accepted the order.

Weyland stepped away from the bomb door, grabbing hold of some nearby cargo netting. His hand hovered near the release mechanism.

"Wait," I cried. "You're just going to throw me out there? Without any training at all?"

"You have a _friend_ who may be able to assist you in that department."

I gawked at him, unsure exactly what he meant.

Ernie? Mr. Bottomiller? Big Bird? It made me incredibly nervous to imagine even one of them being my skydiving instructor.

They brought out Thonwa, that big bug monster.

The creature purred in amusement. I couldn't tell from just a proboscis if she were smiling. "How cute! Pillow has a suit just like that, except it has a tail rudder and is made of a lot thinner and tougher material. Hers was black and red."

" _Her_?" I pointed to the massive insect in front of me, staring in disbelief. " _She_ can fly?"

"We've taken her out on test flights," Weyland said. " _Tethered_ , of course, but she did quite well."

He gave Thonwa a nod. She flapped her wings until they buzzed like a fan.

I got hopeful for a moment, relaxing a little, but then she said she was tired, dropping back down, looking about as pathetically out of shape as Ernie.

"You're not making me feel any better about this."

"Sorry," Weyland replied.

He opened the bomb doors before I could utter a word of protest.

I fell screaming through the earth's stratosphere.

Below me lay a crazy patchwork of treetops, pitted here and there with sections of mountain or slum cities, densely clumped little blocks heaped up on top of each other in disorganized mounds, like some kid had just mashed a bunch of Legos together and thrown tiny pieces of fabric over everything.

A gray electric train cut through all this on a long winding snake of track.

At the moment, I didn't care for the scenery, or the train. My only thought was, I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to die.

I tumbled head over foot, flipping over and over, screaming in terror.

"Spread your arms and legs!" cried a voice.

I looked around, but saw no one until I flipped again. The bug thing was actually flying!

"Your suit has _wings_! Use them!"

I was hyperventilating. I flipped again and screamed.

"Spread them!" she urged.

"Okay!" I gasped. "Okay! Okay!"

I did as instructed. The wings on the sides of the suit puffed out, slowing my descent.

"We're off target." The voice was louder now. It seemed she'd caught up with me. "Here."

A pair of claws gripped the back of my suit, and I found my direction changing, her flapping wings sounding like a lawnmower as we zoomed through the air.

Thonwa guided me down in a downward glide, steered me into position. Soon I drifted, flying squirrel-like, onto the top of the train.

She held a claw to the side of her head, listening to something. "There's a tunnel coming up. Too small. I have to go. Listen, you need to go five cars down (that's Car 40) and change clothing in the broken restroom. Cameras will be disabled in that area for ten minutes."

"Why do I have to go down five cars? Why not here?"

She held her claw to her head, listening for a second. "Those cars are occupied by President Escalido and a heavily guarded cocaine vault. If you go in there, you'll get into trouble." She paused, perhaps getting more information fed to her from the team. " _Lots_ of trouble."

She flew off into the jungle.

The train zoomed through a corridor of jungle plants and shanty towns consisting of ugly mishmashed aluminum blocks. I saw an exploding building and flashes of burning jungle, but it was gone before I knew what I was looking at.

The metal on the roof was slippery smooth, but my palms had no difficulty sticking to the gray ribbed surface. It wasn't damp or anything.

I could feel the noise below me, loud music, the sounds of wheels clattering on tracks. It seemed I'd landed undetected.

Still, I decided to move quickly, just to make sure.

My wings, once useful in controlling my fall, now made themselves a complete nuisance, catching the wind, threateningly tugging me away from the train. I had to press my body close to the surface to cut down on drag.

I wore a wing suit, not a Batman suit. The people who designed it expected the wearer to change out of costume after a safe ground landing. How I would sneak through a car with no ticket, in that getup, was a riddle my mind couldn't easily resolve.

Oh well. I figured I should just try to get to the fifth car ASAP, worry about the rest later, and hopefully avoid any surprise collisions with low hanging objects. Already I had to dodge to the side to avoid a light fixture, and when I crawled to the edge of the car, I got a faceful of starling feathers and pecking beaks that nearly threw me to the tracks.

I avoided the windows and skylights to avoid detection. This Escalido person didn't seem to be anyone I wanted to meet. I got to the end of the car I'd landed on, found a gap.

I crossed to the next one. I had just a split second to duck as the mouth of a low concrete tunnel came rushing my way.

I scuttled across bands of red and blue paint. The engine looked tiny in the distance.

En route to the next roof, a man spotted me, but then a dark haired woman with very little clothing came out and necked him, causing him to lose interest.

At last I reached Car 40. I climbed down, peeking through the window at the top of the door.

The interior of the car looked like a subway combined with a strip club, not particularly futuristic, or even clean looking, inside or out.

The dancers wore nothing but just garters and boots and lingerie that exposed everything, prancing around the standee poles. I saw men of all ages watching the show, even kids and women. They had little devices and drones out, recording stuff and taking pictures, laughing in a really sickening way as they drank alcohol and smoked. Emojis and strings of red and green dots appeared on people's arms at seemingly random times. There were camera drones. For music they had something suspiciously like the Spanish dance mix to Rob Zombie's _Dragula_.

I dug out the hearing aid thing, shoving it in my right ear.

When I heard Mr. Weyland's voice so loud and close sounding, I nearly jumped out of my skin.

"Stay here," he said. "Go when I tell you."

Suddenly the whole car went dark, and all I saw were emoticons, red and green dots, and gyrating female body parts painted in glowing tiger stripes.

Weyland said go.

My infrared showed me the press of bodies, the cool blue and green shapes of the surrounding structures. I stepped around people, making my way toward the end of the car.

"The bathroom is the first one on your left," Weyland said as I was already pushing it open. The Spanish language out of order sign told me I probably didn't need to worry about it being occupied.

"If you have guys in the train," I said. "You really didn't need to air drop me in."

"You misunderstand. We don't. The toilet in this bathroom really is broken. I checked the system reports."

I scrunched up my nose. It _did_ smell terrible in there, even with the nostril plugs.

"Don't use the sink or the three seashells, and again, don't ask questions until you get your doll."

"What is this doll you keep talking about?" I asked.

He shushed me. "You'll need to throw away that wing suit immediately. Hurry up and change before someone sees you."

"Wait. If you can't see anything-"

"You're the closest thing we have to a man on the ground. _This whole incident_ was unplanned. Keep talking to me and your social status will read `crazy.' We do _not_ need that kind of attention."

"Are you watching me? Right now?"

"I have to. For your safety. Believe me, there are _tons_ of things I'd rather be doing with my free time."

My replacement outfit looked like something a prostitute might wear, just a sequined camisole kind of thing and a shiny little black skirt, some stockings and long boots. I supposed I could hold my ground and fight if something bad happened to me in this slutty thing, so I changed into it, shoving the wing suit out the window.

A chiffon blouse, also in the bag, provided me with a little more decency, so I pulled it on as I listened to Weyland's instructions.

"When the lights come back on, head into the next car right away. It's crowded, so when the power comes back on, it'll take a minute for anyone to notice you don't belong there. Maybe hours, in fact, as long as we're not on Crimewatch." He paused. "That's another thing you're better off not knowing about."

Full of questions, I clenched and unclenched my fists.

I entered another `subway car', as dark and densely packed as described, a carnival of freaks standing armpit to elbow.

I removed my nose plugs, and immediately regretted it. The air had a moldy cheese smell to it, which Weyland said was the air processing and filtration system, and then there was all the body funk, tuna smells, the tobacco, the marijuana skunk odors. No windows. They had exhaust fans, but they didn't seem too effective.

People no longer `sagged' it seemed. The popular trend seemed to be walking around in t-shirts and underwear. Bald, tough looking guys with tattoos and basically no pants. Other `tough guys' dressed like interior decorators, bright pastel colored suits, shirts and pants, girly earrings, manicured painted nails, but they had scars, thick hairy arms and gold teeth.

I heard Zack's voice in my ear, singing that `I'm So Pretty' song from _West Side Story_.

"Will you get this man out of here!" Weyland snapped, and the other voice got silenced for awhile.

The women dressed like hookers, some even less decent than that, with or without see-through nylon bodysuits. Some _looked_ like they belonged in the stripper car, but were merely passengers, looking rather bored, as if their manner of undress was normal. Plump white-Mexican girls stood around in clothing similar to mine. One had on an outfit matching the one worn by Julia Roberts in _Pretty Woman_ , oddly tasteful in comparison to the others.

But then I saw nuns. One in the corner with a little girl, also garbed as a nun, both with rosaries, the older staring sullenly out the window, the young one fixing the crowd in the car with an absent stare.

I saw resignation in the older woman's face, like she knew several things were wrong, but had no power to do anything about it, grudgingly accepting it as part of life.

I spotted a punk rocker, a guy that looked like a witch doctor, and a transvestite with a ten year old child on a leash with a dog collar. I saw other kids in a similar state. They didn't even have clothes.

"I can guess what you're thinking about those children," Weyland said. "But forget it. They're American. You'll have to fight the Supreme Court, and we're technically outside the States, so they can get away with even more."

"What!" I cried in alarm.

"The gay rights movement had their success, universal acceptance of same sex marriage, so then pedophiles had their day."

I frowned as I thought about Morse.

If this kind of thing was legal, why was he in prison to begin with?

"I probably wouldn't worry about it too much. Get far enough south of the border, and ` _owners_ ' like that often have ` _accidents_ ' and ` _fall_ ' out of railway cars. ` _It's the crowds_ ,' they say. Not everyone can be as ` _enlightened_ ' as the people of the United States."

Some people were drunk. Some snorted coke.

Few people paid me any attention, except a couple grown men, who leered at me unpleasantly.

Some people around me wore crosses, but I wasn't sure, in their behavior and dress, that they had quite the same meaning. It could have just been jewelry to them.

I saw one of the near naked women got touched inappropriately by a coke sniffing man in a brown police uniform. When she fought back, he shoved a gun against her ribs, leading her outside.

"Move to the end of the car," Weyland urged. Apparently there was a limit to what his cameras could see, for he made no comment about the woman.

As I left the area, I felt someone reach under my skirt, but I stepped away and hid behind people to avoid the creep.

I froze at the door to the next car, watching the cop leading his hostage to a thing that looked like a pay toilet, with the word `Cajamor' and a big Valentine heart on the side. The man shoved a few Pesos into the slot and turned the dial, revealing a bed with a plastic cover. He'd taken her to a sex room.

Since no one could see me for a moment, I muttered, "They're using coins."

"There's a Currency-X in one of those cars, if you need it. American models aren't coin operated. Some people rack up quite a bill."

"Is _rape_ protected by the Supreme Court?"

"This is not America, Ripley. Don't draw attention to yourself. You're here to stop Sil, not be a vigilante. _Remember your friends._ "

It was a veiled threat. I knew not to disobey.

I watched with growing dismay as the man led the woman into the little booth and slammed the door shut.

I hurried into the car. All around me I heard animal noises, smelled things I didn't want to think about.

I only made it halfway through the narrow passage before Weyland said, "Someone's coming. Hide."

Unfortunately, there was nowhere to go. I'd have to put a Peso into a Cajamor.

I was stopped by a short heavy set black haired woman in uniform. She looked rather gruff and surly. "Boleto, por favor."

A computer voice translated this as, "Bulletin please."

"She wants your ticket," Weyland groaned. "Offer your palm."

The woman ran a device over my hand, then frowned at the screen. A Spanish translation of my information, I guessed.

She shook her head, her voice seemed to reflect pity as she muttered, "Aww, _pobrecito..._ "

The translator said, "Pathetic." If I hadn't taken Spanish in school, I probably would have gotten offended.

Behind me, I could hear half suppressed screams.

Feeling like I should do something about the crime being committed, I pointed back at the Cajamor. "Lastima le," I managed to piece together. My grades in Spanish were not that good. "Lastima."

The woman just laughed and rubbed my head. " _S_ _ó_ _lo por diversi_ _ó_ _n!_ "

The software said, "It's only a game." From school, I could tell she maybe meant, "It's only for fun," but the autotranslation made me question my own judgment.

The woman asked me if I knew "Other American girl that boarded without identification." The translation software was unhelpful at this point, for it came out like this:

"I wanted to punch her bullet, but she drove behind the country, hid the sausage, and turned invisible within a horse and buggy."

"We're out in the sticks," Weyland said. "It's not designed for that dialect."

Now Jimenez spoke in my ear. "She say the girl didn't show her ID and she escaped her. She _steals_ things."

"Lo siento," I said. I didn't know how to say much more than that, but Jimenez supplied, "Se encontrarla."

Ticket Lady smiled and said gracias, marching into the car I'd just left.

The Cajamor seemed suspiciously quiet now.

"Keep going," Weyland said. "He's already killed her."

"I thought my mission was to save lives."

"Quiet," he scolded. "This is a popular place for cameras."

I pointed at the box, implying my question nonverbally.

"Federales have systems to disable social monitoring. Only advanced systems like my own can un-disable them. In the future, no nonverbal signaling either, please."

I brushed past a white man in the type of outfit a female business professional would wear in `my era,' a suit top and skirt, heels. "Thank you for calling American Banking and Credit," he said into a headset. "Your home for zero interest credit and checking. My name is Stephen, currently located in the Denver Colorado office. How may I help you today?"

I had to keep going.

Past a section of slots and video poker machines, I _did_ see a machine called Currency-X. Someone had taken a marker to it, so now it read `Current Sex Converter, and some Spanish joke I didn't understand. The bleeping machines masked all the sex sounds.

I hurried through the doors at the end, into a crowded restaurant car. The combination of smells reminded me how hungry I was, but I saw no open tables, no booths, not even an open bar stool.

Television monitors on every wall displayed sports events, soccer and polo, mostly. They resembled Greek or Roman Olympics in that all the athletes pretty much wore thongs and nothing else. My history teacher said this used to be called ` _Gymnauseum_ '. I felt kind of gymn-nauseated, myself.

The nuns I saw there had a look of smug superiority to them, even as they watched the decadent television programming.

With my mouth watering, I wandered close to a counter running along one side of the car.

My stomach flip-flopped when I checked out the menu.

What looked like fried chicken actually turned out to be skinned rats, deep fried in batter. They still had _tails_. They served guinea pig, cat and dog as well, skinned or in special packs.

"Beef is a little pricey these days," I heard Zack saying. "Pork isn't exactly cheap, either. That leaves chicken and...the other, _other_ white meats."

They were cooking _insects_ , too. Huge roaches and centipede things, heavily spiced.

"Looks like they've got meals for every budget," Zack joked.

"At least they're honest about it here," Weyland said. "In the states, it's mashed into so-called `health' and `energy bars.'"

"American bugs are USDA approved. You'd be _happy_ to have a house infested with bugs so clean. These guys, maybe less so."

I glanced at the busy cook, wondering what I wanted and how I'd order anything.

"There's no time," Weyland said. "You've got a pack of rations inside your bag, and a canteen. Get away from the counter and start tracking Sil."

I stepped behind some nuns, digging in my bag for rations as I searched for Sil's GPS signature.

The rations looked like Clif bars or some other kind of health snack, but they tasted better. After hearing about the bugs, though, I wasn't sure I wanted to know what they were made from.

I drank from a pink water canteen covered with prostitute-like images of Disney princesses. The sliding scale version of morality appeared to affect everything.

The GPS took me to a `sleeper car', apparently one where actual sleep occurred, at least in theory, as I heard sex sounds in one of them. For the most part it was all loud snoring, pleasant music and rushing tide sounds within those rows of pay-by-the-hour compartments. I wasn't sure what people did when they had to pee and someone stole their `Suen-O-Tron.'

My search came to an abrupt end at a dead body, sprawled across the doorway of one of these pay bedrooms.

Blood pooled around the victim in an uneven circle, the dark abstract carpet concealing this and hundreds of other stains to anyone without a black light.

The killing appeared to be, at least in part, out of self defense, for I noticed the victim's pants wadded around his ankles.

The phone told me Sil's RFID had been shoved up the man's rectum. I could hear Weyland swearing in my earpiece.

Kamara mumbled something to him, and he calmed down somewhat.

"Ripley," Weyland said. "This is important. How well do you remember Sil's _scent_?"

I thought back to that fight we had, the sweaty hands around my throat, the wrestling through foliage. She smelled...like almonds and dish soap.

Balling my fists, I mumbled, "I thought I wasn't supposed to talk to you or look crazy."

He sighed. "Never mind. _Can_ you track her scent? Nod your head yes if you can."

I did so.

" _Find her_ , Ripley. Under no circumstances is she to leave this train."

I swallowed and nodded.

"I may have called you a dog, but yours is truly the more evolved species."

I wasn't so sure I believed in evolution, but wasn't going to mess up the mission by `talking to myself.'

I gave him a slight smirk.

"Good luck," he said.


	17. Chapter 17: Tomorrowland

Suen-O-Trons came with a set of lockers, unlockable by what appeared to be cards and palm scanners. They built them like post office boxes, where you could access their contents from both sides of the box, if you possessed the right key.

Sil (I could tell by her scent) had ransacked the boxes, scattering clothing and personal items all over the place. The doors were all bent, bowed outwards, like a bear had ripped them open. I could also see shredded bits of rubber and fabric stuck to the carpeting, as if the same bear had attempted to consume a number of fruit scented `edible' things.

When that didn't satisfy her appetite, she had nibbled on the victim. Weyland asked me to turn the man over and wave the phone so he could scan him.

When I passed the phone over a hole in the man's palm, I heard swearing again.

"He had a black market credit chip!" Weyland practically screamed. "Her financial transactions will be completely untraceable!"

I winced at the volume, the sound of his fist bashing against something.

I found Sil's smock on the floor. It seemed she had learned to `blend', too. When I held the fabric to my face, things snapped together in my mind.

I could smell the jungle plants, dead dreadlocked monsters, the car odors, and food. The greasy fried smells told me she'd somehow acquired rat or chicken, whether paid for with stolen currency or just plain stolen I couldn't tell, and mingled with them, the smells of the man, his blood, maybe a few unpleasant things I'd rather not think about.

"Please tell me you've found something," Weyland said.

I shrugged. "She's got a very big appetite."

Zack's voice spoke in my ear. "I can _see_ that. I like the grape panties myself."

"So she's hungry," Weyland said. "Tell us something we don't know."

I frowned.

"We're in a temporary recording free zone. You may speak."

"I don't know. She's stolen food from the dining car?"

" _Missing, presumed fed,"_ Zack remarked.

I heard muffled cursing from Weyland. "Can you track the scent?"

I nodded, out of habit.

"Follow it. Try not to look weird. I'll check the camera records."

As I passed some automated horoscope machines, they spat out a handful of recycled paper stubs. I skimmed through them as I walked.

`The best companion for Gemini is Aries. You will meet one on your trip today. Keep your eyes open.'

So Aries is code for Sil, I thought.

`Aries remains elusive as long is Venus is on its zenith. Others will not help you.'

I figured he threw that one in there to sound official.

`You are surrounded by Taurus, who do not understand you, and wish to be with like kind. Avoid speaking to them, or much time will be lost.'

I believed it meant, `Don't talk to the passengers.'

`Use your gifts in moderation. The target of your admiration will be won by simple persistent effort, rather than showy flair.'

Try to blend, I thought. I threw the messages away.

Sil's trail led me into another crowded `subway car.' I saw some baggy clothed `gaucho' types , men that dressed like cowboys or 2016 era gangsters, but mostly the same kind of freaks as in the other cars. Oh, and some Catholic priests.

I lost Sil's scent in the mix of odors.

"Anything?" Weyland asked.

I shook my head.

The train stopped, the doors around me opening. Weyland swore even more intensely when he saw this happening.

"What's wrong?" I murmured.

"You've just arrived in Android, Colombia. There's a change-over from Obama station connecting to the Sprint Trans-Oceanic Bridge to Mexico. With her child-like mentality, I believe the attraction to a gleaming machine like the Land Speeder will be irresistible."

I furrowed my brow at the unfamiliar terminology.

"I know," he groaned. "You've got more than a century's worth of history and geography to catch up on, but there's no time. We need you at Platform Six immediately, and you've got to get through TSA before the 10:45 leaves the station. The Land Speeder runs nonstop from Colombia to the United States, so this is our only chance to grab her before she crosses the border. Go."

I obeyed.

It felt like I were being swept away with the current of a mass of trout, or cattle. One slip and I'd be trampled to death. I could see how maybe certain unwanted individuals could have `accidents.'

I stumbled out of the train, taking in my surroundings with confused bewilderment.

I stood in an Epcot Center-like transit hub.

I saw no flying cars whatsoever, _nor_ molecular teleportation, and the only aliens I saw were on t-shirts and video screens. I even saw _semis_ driving around. I took a deep breath, then broke into a coughing fit on account of all the smog. I put my nose plugs back in.

"In through the nose, out through the mouth," Zack said.

Directly ahead of me stood a massive glass and steel ziggurat, topped with an immense concrete statue of Huitzilopitchtli, rendered as a realistic human being in a loincloth, triumphant blade raised toward the sky. Towering at almost the same height some distance away, I could also see the official headquarters of Bank of America, which, although great for avoiding taxes, was a contradiction in terms.

I saw rows of stores and shops catering to the upper class, high end coffee shops, expensive restaurants, ritzy hotels, and an ocean, probably where Cuba, Panama and some of those other places used to be. I could just barely make out details, a long walled in beach, guard towers...

TV screens covered practically every flat surface. Pornographic Pokemon cartoons, nudist soap operas, gladiatorial blood sports, where fighters actually killed each other in the arena (clothing varied on those). I imagined the costume designers had a very easy job.

The most tasteful things I saw were the Church of the Jedi Knight (they took the movies as gospel), animal abuse hotlines, live news (at least when the naked newsperson wasn't on the screen) and something that promised to upload your consciousness into a computer mainframe so you could `live forever'.

Even in football, where players wore a multitude of pads, clothing was minimal.

Off screen, though, the `post sagging' trend wasn't so bad as it had been on the train, since people wore shirts long enough to be considered tunics. Many shirts had animations on them, or changing sets of digital numbers. The shirts that were static, were often obscene, visually or in language, if not promoting a product (an increasingly popular choice) or a religion.

It turned out the place _did_ have a dress code, but it was based on weight, wardrobe, and social media statistics.

I saw crosses, but only on women in `sexy nun' costumes. Everyone else hid them, tucking them under shirts whenever they made an appearance, or turning them upside down. I saw no stars and crescents or hijabs at all. People favored the yin-yang.

A digital sign (one of the few that weren't in Spanish) said I was in the Android International Transport Hub. They'd named a _town_ after the phone software.

About a thousand people bumped around me, nearly ran me over. They looked a lot stranger than the ones on the train. Male couples in plush animal costumes, holding hands. People with animal facial tattoos, or pentagrams on their foreheads.

To honor PETA, pet owners ate kibble on the ground while their pets occupied tables at outdoor cafeterias. Men with surgically altered pointy ears in dress-like `gender neutral' Starfleet uniforms, and more of those strangely attired business people walked around with phone headsets saying they were banks or other American businesses.

The sanitation workers were largely Mongoloids, perhaps the result of the Zika virus. Children of various colors and white adults joined them in some of the menial tasks. Compared to the stuff I'd been through, I thought those jobs looked kinda nice.

Children, both girls and boys, carried around anatomically correct Barbie and Ken dolls. Even the adults had dolls, ones with disturbingly realistic faces, which they waved incense around or placed next to them at their tables. Some even knelt before them in prayer.

"Go inside the building," Weyland said. "I'll tell you to go from there."

I squeezed between a group of Hare Krishnas, stepping through a gate framed by giant statues of Aztec gods.

An immense brass sculpture of men having sex was the first thing to greet me when I entered the building. The fountains and pretty plants only accentuated the wrongness. A couple young men in diapers kissed beneath this thing, the emoticons on both their wrists both showing pink hearts, solid rows of green dots going up their arms.

They were married, judging by the rings. A child was chained to the bench they kissed on.

"See those green dots?" Zack said. "That means they're getting high scores in a social media system. Get a certain amount of dots for a particular company, social group or organization and you earn sponsorship credits, money, shoes, freebies, you name it. If you have no self respect, the world is your oyster."

In such an abysmally weak society of sycophants, I could see how easily it would be for someone to surrender their government secrets, liberty, and maybe even an entire state, over to another country.

"What's that statue called, Weyland?" Zack asked.

"It's Spanish. The artist said it symbolized the unification of North and South America."

Zack laughed. "If that's the United States bending over, I think it pretty well sums up our political relationship."

I noticed the back of my wrist light up with the `meh' emoji, indicating my supposed indifference to this obscene display. I frowned at it, watching as glowing red and green dots appeared on my arms.

"We put that in while you were unconscious on the airbus. The algorithm, based on crowd statistics, maintains the appearance of an average reaction and maintains an average score at all times."

"Why didn't I see this before?"

"We were too busy to switch it on. We just put a big out of order sign on your social media structure."

"How do normal people do it?" I said.

"There's an entire library of hand gestures to activate the various emojis. It's rather like sign language. Remember, don't talk to yourself!"

A man in a skirted women's police uniform stepped around me, arresting a street vendor for violating copyright laws. Apparently it was a crime to design your own watches, if any company in the entire world made one that kinda sorta looked like yours.

The vendor's arm dots turned a solid red as the cop read him his rights.

I backed away, trying to get my bearings.

The ceiling displayed a false digital sky, smog free, partly cloudy. No windows. The floor above me held rows of hotel areas, the Hard Rock Cafe, and gourmet food places. No sign of Sil up there.

The sex fountain stood in an intersection cutting through a hexagonal arrangement of shops, or, more accurately, _businesses_.

To my immediate right, they had a place called `The Night Forest,' where androids that looked suspiciously like Weyland's hooked children up to padded virtual reality machines that fed them intravenously and drained their bodily wastes. Some of them even drained blood in exchange for digital currency. One boy looked so pale from blood loss that the android took him away somewhere.

The digital walls of the room displayed a hypnotic pattern of moving clouds in a pastel sky. Collar kids chained to tethers stared blankly at the patterns as they got their blood drawn.

As I stared through the glass window at the odd sights, I noticed a robot pulling a ten year old in a chrome tube top and mini skirt out of a machine.

"Put me back! Put me back!" she screamed. "I want to see daddy again!"

"I'm sorry," the robot answered. "You're out of credits. Would you like to donate some blood?"

A pair of plump women pushed past me, both clad in skimpy silk dresses that looked like lingerie, with matching rings on their fingers. One had black and purple hair, the other a redhead.

"C'mon, Caitlyn," one of them said. "We just did a _scene_ for Papa J's. You like pizza, don't you?"

"I'd rather have daddy back."

The arm lights on the women and the girl twinkled randomly from red to green, as if in sympathy.

"Brenda," the black haired woman said to her `wife.'

The redhead nodded. "Daddy needs rest, sweetie. His electronic consciousness has to go back in storage sometime."

"You can see him later," Black-Purple agreed. _"You should treasure the parents you have now."_

"I want a daddy," the girl said. " _Like Chloe at school._ Her parents have a _real marriage._ " Her arm lights flashed red.

"Now, Caitlyn," Brenda scolded. " _You know_ that's no way to get sponsorship points!"

I moved on in search of Sil.

A row of restaurants stood across the hallway from the Night Forest. Taco Bell, a Subway sandwich shop, the pedophile spokesman Jared immortalized in cartoon caricature like Colonel Sanders or Dave Thomas. They had Dunkin Donuts, Starbucks, and, of course, a casino.

Repetitive video at the entrance of McDonald's showed artfully edited images of clean rat meat being sliced up and fried into burgers, people in red and white thongs eating Big Macs and fries in picturesque locations. The Dollar Menu was now the $10 Menu, and it wasn't just the rat meat that looked suspicious.

No restaurants served cat or dog. Unsurprising, considering the amount of deference given them.

By that same token, I couldn't say for certain if the "C" in KFC still stood for chicken. The Grub restaurant, I think, had the most honest description out of all of them.

Dollar amounts for everything American seemed unusually high. Low end Home Shopping Network items that used to sell for $29.99 were now $209.99, as if the value of U.S. currency had somehow depreciated to Peso level.

A place called Mugwumps sold a wide variety of (presumably legal) drugs, all in one place, coke, heroin, marijuana.

Holographic people, and people on screens, followed me around wherever I went, pestering me to buy things.

Weyland instructed me to go left, down an avenue featuring restaurants and a large church-like structure labeled ASUR (All Spirits Unification Religion). The smells from the former made my mouth water, but Zack informed me that half were only aerosol simulations of food, that they had a barbecue scent. Still, what I saw being served looked delicious.

The ASUR, well, I didn't even know what I was looking at. People in all sorts of religious garb, Catholic priests, rabbis, Wiccans, Native American shamans, Buddhists sat together on rugs, waving around incense, chanting and ringing bells.

The interior reminded me of a funeral chapel, a church-like place with pews, red carpeting, and vague religious iconography. A myriad of statues of different gods stood in little alcoves, surrounded by incense and offerings, Buddha, Cat Headed Bastet, Thor as depicted in film, Shango, Raven, Shiva, Satan. They even had a Virgin Mary.

Despite the visual appearance of harmony, I got the sense that this was all a facade, for they either seemed rather ill at ease with each other or themselves for having compromised their individual faiths...or smugly superior to others, as if they had the inside track to heaven, and weren't about to share it with anyone.

I think a few were even atheists, thinking of religion as a `good idea' but looking depressed due to thinking it meant nothing in relation to reality.

The laughter seemed forced, when it occurred at all.

Symbols of all major religions festooned ASUR's stained glass entrance, the Christian one represented by the image of Hipster Jesus. The music was New Age electronic, like the background to a fancy video game.

"Keep going," Weyland said. "I know it's disorienting, but the Light Speeder is about to leave in fifteen minutes."

Down the hall from the ASUR, I saw the offices of psychics and mediums of various official looking organizations, interspersed with more legitimate businesses, Popeye's, 7-11, IHOP, and a Sonic Walk-In.

Then, more disturbingly, past a New Age bookstore, I encountered a place where they dragged people who shouted anything that had a distinct Christian edge to it.

Here a man argued with a dress wearing police officer about how Jesus is the only way to heaven. When the cop failed to persuade the Christian to stop preaching, he simply tasered the guy and gagged his mouth, dragging him through a door that said American Board of Psychology and Neurology Deprogramming Center.

A crowd clapped and cheered, the cop receiving all green lights, the evangelist's arm, of course, displaying a solid row of red and an emoticon of a crazy face with concentric circles for eyes. .

 _"I want that job,"_ I heard someone saying.

The door closed before I could see much of anything inside, just a small section of a hospital style waiting room. The office had no windows.

"What happens in there?" I asked.

"Well, thanks to the Affordable Healthcare Act, they're drugged and put in nice little retirement communities where they can't bother anyone, the unusually disruptive ones occasionally being placed in programs like Learning Town."

"I've heard rumors of abuse," said Zack. "People don't live long in there."

It seemed Shelly's presence at Learning Town wasn't as cut and dry as I originally thought.

I wondered what other things had been hidden from me in this manner.

"Keep going," Weyland said. "You're almost at the TSA."

"How do you know Sil is even going to take this `Land Speeder?'" I whispered. "What if she just stops at a restaurant, or finds someplace to hide? What if she disappears into Colombia?"

"That's why we sent you. That being said, her black market chip has been flagged by two restaurants, and Federales have been attempting to track her. Sadly, I doubt they'd had much experience catching the non-chipped, at least, _not smart ones_."

I passed hotels, a couple faux Spanish villas with exotic dancers out front. A shaman blew smoke in my face.

Then came the TSA.

It wasn't the tangled mess I expected, but it still looked convoluted, crowded, and agonizingly slow.

It resembled a windowless airport, with the standard rows of terminals, baggage weighing, tagging, checking, measuring and X-raying stations. They had a separate station for the depositing of cocaine, heroin and weed, which went into secured `bank cars' or got exchanged for credits.

It seemed drug mule-ing and terrorism was still a concern, for everyone had to pass through metal detectors, strip naked, and walk through a sophisticated sort of MRI/X-ray machine that could see through people's bodies, down to the digestive systems, revealing pacemakers, artificial hips, and sometimes babies.

The people, clothing and articles were scanned and showered with germ killing stuff that involved ultraviolet lights.

When I saw all of this, the cameras, the armed Federales, I balked. "I thought I wasn't supposed to draw attention to myself."

" _You aren't_ ," Weyland said.

"So what do you call walking through that scanner and letting everyone see... _my exoskeleton_?"

The man swore in response.

"Can't she pull a _Total Recall_?" I heard Josh asking. "You know, put on a disguise and reprogram the thing so it shows a different image?"

"I'm pretty sure that didn't happen in that movie. Anyway, it's been done."

"Well?"

"That's exactly the problem. They put in safeguards against it."

"Damn."

"What about climbing in a vent?"

"Done. Frequently, in fact. There are alarms, killer machines, and if she lives through all that, the Speeder will be gone by the time she reaches the track."

"Wait. Didn't you say she could crawl up the walls like Spiderman?"

"Yes, but there are cameras everywhere."

"Relax, guys," Zack said. "I got this."

I heard music coming from somewhere, a dance remix of Dr. John's _Walk on Gilded Splinters_. A purple fog swelled from the floor.

The fog swelled into a cloud , a skull faced figure in a black suit and tophat emerging from it like the witch on the _Wizard of Oz_.

After doing a few tricks, like pulling a bloody beating heart out of his hat and "putting it back" in a dead chicken, which he `reanimated,' I suddenly noticed this showy Baron Sembedi's painted lips moving in synch with the voice in my ear.

"Whatever you're planning to do, kid, you'd better get into position, and make it quick."

I hurried to the wall that separated the transvestite restrooms from the ladies', then stopped, afraid to make one further move.

Zack conjured up a fancy little skull bedecked cannon out of a puff of smoke, firing a blast of confetti. "Imb clay up the all way," I heard him grunting through his teeth.

Like a baseball player stealing second after a mediocre hit, I decided that if I were going to do this, it would have to be fast. I latched onto the wall and rushed up the nearest vertical surface, which happened to be beside the restrooms near the coke check-in, with the armed guards.

When I had successfully cleared six feet, climbing around a monitor showing a soap about the `hardship' of sending an evangelical family member to one of those `deprogramming homes', people started pointing and covering my progress with their drones. The Federales drew guns.

Zack informed the crowd that I was his "assistant Jill", that I had a bad habit of showing off, but "he'd show me."

He turned the cannon at me and fired.

Thick purple smoke engulfed me, some teargas-like mixture that made my eyes water. The people below coughed and stumbled about.

Zack had shot a purple smoke cannister into the ceiling just inches from my head, in the guise of confetti.

Familiar with teargas and its effects, I endured it, crawling away as quickly as I could.

"Wait," I said in a careful exhalation. "Don't all cameras have infrared?"

"They wouldn't be pointed at the ceiling," Weyland said. "It's not every day that the Human Fly buzzes through their checkpoint."

I dropped to the ground the moment everyone stopped coughing and the smoke cleared.

After the security station, all travelers passed through a set of turnstiles, and into numbered corrals like they have with roller coasters. They shoved their way down to concrete docks beside tracks that stretched across the longest bridge I'd ever seen.

It looked like you'd ride the thing all the way to Russia or something. I couldn't even see land at its end.

Worse, it was just a frail looking cable stay suspension bridge. I had no idea how it could withstand a hurricane or a heavy tide, or allow a big boat to pass through, but I couldn't afford to `talk to myself' and find out.

There were many trains, several already leaving. I didn't know where to begin looking for Sil.

I stood in a line at Platform Ten, a place so crowded that I was within a corral before I knew I was in the wrong line.

"Dammit." I did my best to sound like I were giving a general complaint to nobody. "I'm not even close to Platform Six!"

"For future reference," Zack said. "When you swear, always put the word God in front of that. You'll get a higher rating."

Weyland sighed. "Find your way over to six any way you can. Your friends will meet you inside."

"Easier said than done," I said.

"I have your RFID. Do what you can to find your way west. I believe that would be to your right."

Following his directions, I wove my way through the packed mob, squeezing between overweight people, hopping rails, swinging under them, and, in one instance, grabbing a big man's shoulders and leapfrogging over him.

I saw no sign of anyone else from my team, even around the restrooms or the food stands. I guess I should have known better.

"Get onboard. It's about to take off."

"How do you know it will be this one? What makes this one more likely than any of the others?"

"It's a top of the line luxury train. Her M.O. so far appears to be purely instinctual self gratification, and the Land Speeder would make a perfect nest."

I could see The Speeder now. The vehicle resembled a glittering chrome torpedo, striped with yellow, with the Sprint logo painted on each car. It reminded me of the streamlined monorails I'd seen in pictures of Disneyland, a futuristic system involving electromagnetic suspension. It shined, clean and tidy, with the aid of Mongoloids and synthetic humans, who even then busied themselves with last minute scrubbing. The double decker train had no windows at the bottom level, but the upper commanded a broad view of the surrounding scenery.

It looked ready to take off. People hustled up the docks, shoving their way inside.

I stumbled into the vehicle. A second later we were moving.

"Thank you for choosing the Sprint Land Speeder as your method of intercontinental transit," said a recording. It repeated in Spanish, then rattled off features of some new phone that just came out, one that you surgically implanted in your brain.

The interior was a lot nicer than the other train, making me wonder why a transport carrying so much white gold would look so grimy. Perhaps it was to avoid heists?

The walls, when not plastered with digital monitors, were lite gray plastic and upholstery. The surfaces were immaculate. The design was similar to all those generic corridors you see in Star Trek programs.

Of course, the people on Star Trek would never have news stories about little kids bringing James Bond-like composite handguns to school and killing people, or commercials saying you get fined thousands of dollars for feeding a dog generic dog food.

The benches in this car were filled in a matter of seconds, people getting elbowed as the overhead compartments filled up. Everyone else got left clutching the hanging straps.

Once seated, people seldom talked to each other, they just typed stuff on glowing keypads inserted beneath their skin, talked to the air, their earlobes glowing different colors to indicate they were `on a call,' or zoning out with virtual reality goggles.

The mass of bodies made it near impossible to even begin my search.

A Federale with a mustache and a weathered face trailed me with his eyes, his hand hovering near his sidearm. I feigned nonchalance.

"Are you...sensing anything?" Weyland asked.

Not sure if he could see me or not, I frowned, gave a slight shake of my head.

"Perhaps you should...scour the car for her scent."

I furrowed my brow.

"Unless you've got a better idea."

Trying to act natural, I said, "Darn. It looks like my friend Silvia isn't here! _Maybe if I walk around a little_ , I'll bump into her."

"Do whatever you have to," Weyland said. "But limit the monologues until you master Netpronto."

"What?"

He groaned in annoyance. "It's a type of slang. Not important. Get sniffing."

In the next car, I had a lot to sniff. I'd stumbled into another restaurant. I caught whiffs of Sil, but I had no real trail to go on. With all the delicious smells, I began to wish Weyland had packed more than a couple of those... _whatever bars_.

The restaurant was called Chili-B's, and it looked like an actual neighborhood bar and grill. I found myself surrounded by recognizable images and objects from `history', like Deadpool, Star Trek Beyond, Reebok pumps, and a framed Royals uniform from the 2015 World Series. Nothing bulky, of course, since it was on a bullet train, but it was by far the homiest place I'd been in since I discovered it wasn't the year I thought.

"Can I please eat?" I whispered.

"Fine," Weyland said in a tone of resignation. "You have credits available on your chip. Order anything you like."

The chef was a lispy Mexican guy with neatly cut hair, clad in a Pantera shirt with tattoos up and down his arms. He wore a cross on a chain, but I think he did that for shock value, for he was flamboyantly gay.

He gave me a look of disdain as I approached the polished bar top. "Yes?"

He clearly wanted an order.

"Uh..."

The chef rolled his eyes, pointing up at an electronic menu full of silent commercials for the various entrees. As I mulled over my choices, a bald muscular man pushed around me, ordering rat soup.

"She who hesitates is lost, little woman," the chef said to me.

He turned around, flirting with the new customer. "Anything to drink?"

"Fucked Up The Ass," the bald guy said cheerily.

" _Your place or mine_?" the chef giggled, but then he set down some kind of Pina Colada boiler maker.

"You're better off with the pet food," Zack said in my ear.

"What!" I blurted out of anger.

The chef was too busy with the bald guy to notice my outburst.

"No offense intended. Animals eat better than people these days. It's the cruelty laws. It's a choice between alligator, insects, and aborted fetuses."

"What?"

"It was in response to a food shortage, animal rights protests, and concerns about high cremation expenses. Don't eat anything with the word `Freedom' associated with it. Actually, anything that says `Freedom,' `Liberty,' or `Choice.' _Democracies_ , however, are delicious corn-mushroom snacks."

I suddenly felt ill.

The mustached cop still trailed me. I felt his stalking gaze as he ordered a beer and drank in a corner booth.

I turned my attention back to the food. They had a display of `Top Ramen Chips', flavored in beef, chicken and Tabasco, as well as `Applegates' bars, packaging proudly displaying the main ingredient: cockroach. Yuck.

I pointed to one of the rats they were smoking near the grill. It wasn't like I hadn't eaten one before. "Can I have that one, please?"

The chef acted like he hadn't heard me, but in a flash, he had the precise rat I'd selected chopped, sauteed, thrown together with bits of vegetable, onions, and seasoned fries, thrusting it into my hands so quickly I almost dropped it.

I looked around for a cash register. Seeing none, I offered my palm.

"Relax," the man said. "Your credit's good. We got your scan the moment you grabbed the plate. Enjoy your meal, Ms. Siebers."

I found no empty table anywhere in the two cars this restaurant occupied, so I just stuffed my mouth as I searched for my quarry.

The rat was delicious, ten times better than the raw one I'd eaten. The fries and vegetables were just fillers, and I found a fried cricket in the mix, but I figured I needed all the nourishment I could get.

The Federale now looked at a little square computer device, which he controlled by tapping glowing letters and numbers on his forearm. I was afraid to ask him what he was doing.

The last of my fries and vegetables flew out of my hands and scattered to the floor as a figure with an afro bumped into me.

"Kamara!" I cried. "Boy am I glad to see you!"

I laughed when I saw her getup, leatherette pants, a little half vest with a white tank top that advertised QT Kitchens.

I would have made a joke about being a sellout, but when I glanced at my sequined top, I noticed the silver ones spelled out the word Google.

I gave my friend a hug. "I'm so glad you're here! This place is driving me crazy!"

She smiled at this.

"Where's Josh?"

"He's safe. _Uncle Mike_ knows about you two. _He doesn't want you to get distracted._ "

I nodded. Honestly, I was struggling to come to terms with my feelings on the subject.

"You're probably right." Still, part of me _wanted_ to be distracted. _At least a little._

"Uncle Mike?" she said to a flying drone. "Gotter loc'd. What."

"God," Weyland said. "I hate Netpronto. Politeness went right out the window."

" _Pleekew_ ," Kamara added as an afterthought.

"Saying please and thank you in the same sentence doesn't make it any less rude."

I recalled hearing other people using the same kind of language ever since I climbed on the Cortador.

"How do you know... _that stuff_?" I asked Kamara.

"I didn't take ordinary classes at school, Ellie. I had a lot of _computer time_. _A lot of stuff you don't know about."_

"Was Lacey doing that too?"

"Pretty much."

"Is that where you where you went in that elevator?"

Kamara gave me a look that said no, but she nodded anyway.

"You're going to have to teach me."

She nodded. "NPGF. Waabout Sil? Any?"

"I can barely understand what you're saying," I said.

Kamara shrugged. _"Deal."_

A drone landed on a wall, its cameras focusing on. She held her hand to her ear for a moment, then shrugged, talking to the drone. "Techy prob. Noobs. Splain-ler." To me she said, "Your social network isn't connected, so we're going to have to be weird and talk like normal human beings."

A strange looking fly kept buzzing around my head. The more I stared at it, the more mechanical it seemed. "Um, Weyland? I...I'm being watched."

"Get used to it. Everyone's watching everyone else these days."

"No, I mean..."

"It's just _Josh_ ," Kamara said with a smile. " _You know how much of a crush he has on you..._ "

"Don't say anything," Weyland hissed. "I'm going to feed some data into the TSA system. That should alleviate some of the heat. Just play along and pretend it's your boyfriend."

TSA. It had to be something to do with that uniformed guy that kept following me.

"Oh," I said. "That's... _really nice._ " Actually, I thought the idea was kind of like stalking, but I wanted the cop to go away.

The fly suddenly buzzed away. The cop shot us a dirty look, turned away to nurse his beer.

I caught Sil's trail on a staircase leading to the upper floor, but it went cold, and a man in a tux beyond the roped off area said I couldn't get in without a reservation.

"House?" Kamara asked me.

I frowned. "What?"

"It means no luck. Like when you lose at cards and the house gets it."

"Then what do you call the place where you live?"

Kamara rolled her eyes. "That's called a _crib_. _Even you_ should know _that one._ "

"House," I agreed.

I heard Weyland sighing through his nostrils, clearly frustrated.

We came back down, passed through a car lined with lockers, entering something called the FRAS (Federal Re-Employment Assistance System)-CAR. It seemed an illogical choice for a luxury train until I saw ads about "Paying back the casino", "Still broke from the Colombias" and "Buying a ticket and needing extra dough."

People lined up at computer kiosks, scrolling through the various temp job offerings that expired faster than trivia rounds on a game show. Clipping yards, cleaning apartments when the Land Speeder arrived, pet grooming, ASUR worship assistants. Some jobs were actually on the Land Speeder itself.

One kiosk displayed people willing to pay various amounts of money for sex, or miniature recording studios where these people could audition without their clothes.

The jobs for Customer Service Representatives at `Virtual Call Centers' gave people longer opportunities to apply. Of course, many of them said `American citizenship renunciation mandatory.' A company called NCO-DOGOS occupied many positions of this kind.

I entered a car lined with cylindrical sleeping pods, the top ones accessible by ladders. They looked like coffins, but naked or pajama clad occupants slept peacefully on their padded beds, awash in soft music and ocean sounds, some with their babies.

The next area looked like the coach section on an airplane, but every single person had virtual reality goggles on, silently twitching or grunting as if asleep. Some donated blood, probably to pay for the service. The only people that didn't wear goggles were a couple of black men making out in a reserved section, and an old guy who was only pretending his headset so he could take a nap.

"Nothing?" Kamara asked.

I shook my head. " _House._ This place is just too crowded."

"That's...not good."

"Her scent just isn't strong enough around here."

"Yeah... _Her perfume be kickin',"_ she said to her social media. "You think she went upstairs?"

"I...don't know."

We came to a sex car, where several of the `transactions' got initiated by hand chips. A sign the car allowed children and pets permits, and `party favors' cost extra.

I noticed a new addition: Storks Mobile Fertility Centers. A computer scanned the donor's genetic information from a hand chip, the men being presented with a padded rubber tube attached to suction machinery, the women a padded chair with a device sticking out of the center.

Bright pink booths with triangles on them offered extra financial incentive for those who wanted to donate chromosomes or fertilized embryos to lesbian couples. I guess the gays could just `adopt.'

A disheveled heavy set man tried to enter one of the regular donation booths, but a recording told him that his genetics were inferior, they had no use for his chromosomes, and that he should donate somewhere else. A dating service was recommended. The man got mad and punched the door.

"Damage to this booth and associated equipment will result in a property damage citation ranging from one thousand credits to five million," the recording said. "The embarrassing incident will also be shared in comedic social media networks, accompanied by insulting comments."

The man swore, uttered threats he couldn't fulfill, then marched away in a huff.

I wrinkled my nose in disgust as I noticed a couple men in furry animal costumes screwing in one of the booths. They'd intentionally left the door open.

The next car held bleeping one armed bandits and busy card tables. The noise and crowd was just about as bad as anywhere else.

"How much time do we have to work with?" I asked my friend.

"I don't know. We're almost in Mexico already."

A (Cuban?) man that looked like a heavyweight boxer guarded the casino entrance. He wore pink earrings and a leather waistcoat with no shirt underneath, but still didn't look like the kind of guy you'd want to mess with.

I tried to go past him, but he said I was underage.

"Seriously?" I said. "After all I've seen?"

Kamara elbowed me. "I know. It's a double standard. You can win actual money in Pokemon, but you can't go in a real casino."

"Excuse me," said a big woman in a brown uniform. "Are you a friend of that little girl that passed by here?"

"Yes," I said.

"She didn't show me her ticket. You got one for her?"

I raised my hand for her to scan, but Kamara pushed it aside. "Sorry, no. She ran away from home. We're... _trying to take her back,_ actually."

The woman pointed to where we came from. "She ran up the stairs next to the sleeper pods. It's kids like that that make me wish that giving _whoopings_ was legal."

Red lights appeared on her arms, but was indifferent about it.

"So you can put them on a leash naked but you can't... _discipline_ them?"

 _"She's ex-Homeschooler_ ," Kamara said to the woman, sounding apologetic.

When I tried to explain that I went to public, Kamara covered my mouth.

"It's your cover story," Weyland explained in my ear. "They have _towns._ They replaced the Amish a few decades ago when they were fading out. Very...twentieth century. Old fashioned. You'd like them."

The woman put a hand on her big hip, giving me a friendly smile. "If there were more kids like you up around in this place, this world would be a _lot_ better off. I've had it up to here with people who say they're reincarnated Indigo Children and you can't tell them shit because they've got some fucking chip on their shoulder. Occasionally, a child needs his or her whoopin', or they be _knocking people down and stealing shit out of the overheads_ like your friend!"

Kamara looked at her like she were crazy. "You're ruining your score."

The woman crossed her thick flabby arms. "You think I care about that?"

She opened her uniform, flashing a leather dominatrix outfit. _"I'm a BBW, honey. That's how I got this job."_

"It takes all kinds," Kamara muttered.

"It does indeed."

The windows along the stairwell and upper floor showed nothing but water and steel cables. I guessed sunken Panama or Cuba lay beneath us by now, or maybe Mexico's submerged fish tail.

The room directly above the sleeper car was a smoker's cage, nothing but a big wire enclosure where people lit up their drug of choice. Cigars, vapes, crack, meth, other types of nicotine, reefer stink, I even spotted an old pipe. Kamara coughed, but I myself seemed to have gained a tolerance.

The cage led to a `party car', which we somehow had free admission to. A dark room with laser lights, sports TV, and glowing paintings of demons and pinup style cartoon characters of half naked men and women.

It looked like a rave, and it anything went. Drugs, sex, both real and suggestively simulated through clothing. The deejay played rap-ish dance music that had been resampled from older rap songs that had been resampled from others and so on.

And then I saw Sil, stealing chicken and hamburgers from the buffet.

She had on a white lace teddy with a short little spandexy skirt covering the lower portion. Barefoot, no shoes or stockings.

I caught a glimpse of a credit chip in her palm, but I wasn't sure how it got embedded in her skin like that.

"Hey!" I hissed to Kamara, jabbing her with my elbow. "There she is!"

When she turned to look, Sil had already disappeared into the crowd.

"Got a bead on her?" Kamara whispered.

"No," I said.

"You've got to fine tune your abilities. Try."

I closed my eyes, trying to focus.

"Careful. We just told people that you're an ex-Homeschooler. Try not to look like you're praying."

I straightened my head, putting my hands behind my back.

The lap dances, the sex, the whole car was a distraction, both in terms of sound and smell.

Almonds.

I pointed. "There."

Sil had crawled into an air duct next to the bar. I hurried in, following my nose. I had her now.

The passage led into a car filled with sound canceling office cubicles. I could see them through the registers. Pay coffee machines, all-in-one phones, printers, fax-ish things, binding, scanners, laminators, collators. You could see the ocean, but you only had a peephole with which to see the hallway.

The moment I reached the end of the scent trail, and peered through the hole where the register used to be, a greasy hand yanked me into the cubicle by my hair.

Kamara, who had been following me, now made a hasty retreat.

Sil shoved me into a padded noise cancellation wall.

I raised my hands in surrender. "Friend!"

She stared at me, repeating the word with a mystified expression on her face.

I patted my chest. "Ellie." I pointed to her. "Sil."

She touched her chest. "Ellie."

I shook my head, repeating my gestures. "Me Ellie. You Sil."

She frowned, touching her chest again. "Sil?"

I nodded.

Sil shook her head. "Me Chica Sweetkins."

I rolled my eyes. Some creep in another car probably gave her that name.

"Okay. Fine. You Chica. Me Ellie."

Ignoring the warning about cleaning charges, Sil had made an absolute mess of the cubicle, covering the desk and floor in piles of food wrappers and stolen food, whore clothing and futuristic looking electronic devices.

Keeping my arms raised, I stepped backwards into a corner, gawking at this little rat's nest.

She'd gathered enough food to feed a large family, probably twice that if you counted what had already been consumed.

A hologram player had been set up on the desk, running an interactive children's show about the alphabet. The puppets looked happy to see us, waving toward a giant letter U. I ignored it.

"What's going on in there, Ellie?" Kamara called from the vent.

As soon as she said this, `Chica' pulled her out by her `fro.

"Friend!" I shouted, pointing to her. "Kamara. _Friend._ "

Sil released her, giving both of us a suspicious look.

Kamara joined me in the corner.

One of the holographic puppets, a cat, looked at me and scratched its head, as if wondering why I didn't play with him. He'd have to keep wondering.

"We've got to take her in sometime," Kamara whispered. "Dead or alive."

"I know," I muttered back. "But alive is much easier. Do we have any other _people_ on this train?"

Kamara shook her head. "We're going to need more than a few train cops and a bouncer."

"You mean they only got one guy in the casino?"

"They had more, but she killed them."

For a few moments, Sil and I just tensely stared at each other.

I slowly stepped closer to her. "I'm...just like you. I'm only part human."

I opened my mouth, sticking out the claw thing.

Sil dove behind the desk, staring at me wild eyed.

I kept my hands raised. "Relax. I won't hurt you."

She slowly got up, staring at me.

Seeing I made no move to attack her, she made her tongue shoot out, frog-like, snatching a Snickers bar off the desk. She bit off the end of the candy without unwrapping it, looking rather pleased with herself.

I gave her a pleasant smile.

Still trying to get my attention, the holographic cat puppet put on a dildo hat, making lewd gestures with it. I promised myself, if I ever had kids, I'd make them live off the grid until they were teenagers.

"Can we...maybe...lock Sil in here or something?" Kamara whispered to me.

"I somehow don't think so. She's really strong."

Sil grabbed a banana, eating through the rind.

"Wait. You're doing it all wrong." I showed her the proper way to peel and eat a banana.

She imitated me, and for a moment we kinda just laughed and ate bananas. It was cute.

But then Kamara got the bright idea of pulling out a tranquilizer gun.

Sil screamed, grabbing Kamara by the throat.

"Stop!" I shouted, my voice sounding strangely muffled in this noise canceling compartment. "Friend!"

"Fuck you!" Sil yelled. "No friend!"

She threw Kamara into the desk hard enough to crack her skull and shatter the cheap rental computer to pieces.

My friend lost consciousness.

Sil reached forward to finish the job, but I grabbed her wrists. "Stop! _Friend!_ "

"Fuck you!"

She broke free from my grip and grabbed Kamara by the throat, so I slammed my body into her.

We fell to the floor. Sil punched and clawed me in the face.

"Stop!" I growled. "Friend!"

"Fuck you, nofriend!"

I rolled her over, pinning her arms to the floor.

Sil laughed mischievously, licking my face with her frog tongue.

I shuddered, the involuntary response allowing her enough wiggle room to escape my grip.

The moment I got to my feet, she picked up the tranquilizer gun, pointing it straight at my head. "You no friend. You bitch."

She pulled the trigger before I could move away.

I felt the sharp pinch of the dart stabbing me right in the forehead, then saw a flash of white as chemicals exploded into my brain.

With so much tranquilizer running through my system, I could only remember foggy pieces of what happened next.

I thought I saw tentacles exploding out of Sil's body, dragging her screaming up the wall as they wrapped her in a big black cocoon.

I remembered people shouting and knocking, saying that the credit chip was no good, that the cubicle had to be vacated at once. They didn't seem to care about the big weird cocoon, or the violence.

"You can't sleep in here," someone barked, but no one removed me from the area. I'm not sure why.

The `BBW' stomped into the compartment, took one look at the cocoon, then screamed as tentacles sucked her into its interior, blood pouring down her arms and legs as she kicked and struggled to escape.

The cocoon engulfed her, sucked up all the blood and associated physical matter, sealing itself like the woman had never been there.

I faded into unconsciousness for what felt like hours, awakening only when I heard an odd cracking sound.

It was the cocoon. A vaginal opening had developed on its side, and this huge red-purple thing oozed out, looking like a horse in a placenta.

The oozing object pooled onto the floor in the shape of a nude woman, who clawed and tore at the thick membrane until she escaped and vomited amniotic fluid or whatever it was.

Coughing and gasping, she staggered into a standing position.

I groaned, pulling the dart out of my forehead.

Rolling on my side, I persisted, pointing from her to me. "Friends."

Sil squatted in front of me in a very undignified fashion, not caring that everything was exposed and hanging out.

She looked confused, shocked that I would be nice to her after all that.

She smiled, rubbed my head.

"Ellie friend." Her voice was deep now, close to a tenor. "Don't fuck with me."

She got up and marched out the door, blood soaked and not wearing a stitch of clothing.

I passed out again.

My worries about my friend at last jolted me into full alertness.

"Kamara?" I cried, as I regained my footing.

I got no response.

"Kamara!" I yelled.

The room had little in the way of hiding spots, especially for a dead body, even one the size of a young girl. The desk drawers barely had room to hold paper.

When I found blood around the handle of the shredder cabinet, my heart pounded in alarm.

This was not your average 2016 shredder. There were no page limits or warnings about staples. It said it could not only shred CD's, but bits of metal. The only warning was to not wear a tie - "Death or serious injury may result." For all I know, it could shred blood and bone.

The thought of Kamara being reduced to a red puree made me afraid to even touch the thing. I wasn't sure I could bear to see another friend dying.

Still, I had to know.

I grabbed the handle, yanking the cabinet open.

My friend was still in one piece. Blood dried in her nappy hair as she drew in shuddering breaths at the bottom of the plastic bin.

As I reached in, trying to drag her out, I noticed her eyes cracking open.

"Is she gone?" Kamara croaked.


	18. Chapter 18: Family Spirits

I helped my friend out of the bin. There was enough shredding machinery in there to reduce a thick hardbound encyclopedia into fine confetti, but I guess it hadn't been switched on, thank God.

She coughed, rubbed her head. "Ow. First I get broken ribs, now a concussion!"

Kamara peered through a small window on the back wall. "Oh no!" she cried, sotto voce.

"What? What is it?"

We'd stopped. My friend pointed to a cathedral-like glass and steel structure outside the train, beyond which you could see a view of a city composed of giant interlocking gray cubes. "We're already in Texas."

She turned to face a camera. "Uncle Mike?"

" _I know_ ," Weyland said. "I gave the police an anonymous tip about unlicensed cocaine importation and a dirty bomb. The Land Speeder is on lockdown. We're searching the recordings as we speak."

'We have recordings of _her_ , right?" Kamara asked. "So we can put her on Cuffs for Cash?"

"Actually, the cocoon was covering up the eye. We only have images of her back and a quarter of her face, from the other camera."

"I bet the sound quality is _amazing_ ," Kamara said. "What, with all this padding."

"Perhaps you should have sung something," the man replied sardonically.

Kamara pointed to the black bubble on the ceiling. "What about that one?"

"Deactivated to protect the previous passenger's business documents."

Business, it seemed, was the only safe haven from Big Brother.

"Do you want us to hunt her down again?" Kamara asked.

"No. There's no point. You're facing an adult hybrid that's twice as strong as Ripley. My disguised agents will take over from here. Get to the front of the train and meet with TSA. You now have full clearance."

And so we passed through that whole sideshow funhouse again.

The cubicle car led to a psychologists' car, containing rows of counseling offices (part of the Free Health Program). A number of evangelists got dragged into them.

I took this as a warning. We hurried downstairs.

I glanced at a wall monitor, then quickly looked away when I noticed them advertising toilet paper, in all its unsightly use. I liked it better they only had red bears and cartoon quilters _talking around_ the subject.

Another screen showed two bearded men kissing. "That tickles," said one of them.

All the doors on the Land Speeder had been closed, with police and people in Hazmat suits standing guard outside. You could only go outside if you submitted to a chip screening.

Eight and a group of tough looking uniformed people conducted the search. The process was slow going, so I stared at a news story about an `Abortion Protest Bust', where they took all the protesters away in a paddy wagon.

On the closed captioning, I noticed one of the pink and purple clad commentators had said, "Bullshit like this wouldn't be happening if we included Catholics in the Anti-Proselytization Law."

The other pundit answered, "You have to realize that these so-called `Catholics' do not represent Catholicism as a whole. Pope Julius's lifting on the ban against abortion has widespread acceptance in the faith. These protesters are only the minority. While the church still does not accept the consumption of Freedom Meats, the papal decree..."

I looked away.

The line to the exit was understandably long, the majority of the train's occupants packed like sardines into a tiny compartment not designed for that kind of volume.

The only reason why people didn't try to go around Weyland's team were the weapons. The suspiciously desperate individuals who tried to sneak by ended up convulsing or vomiting on the floor, unconscious or dead.

A woman with a facial structure like a Weyland robot proudly wove her way through the line, glancing at men's palms. She wore only a black silk teddy, nylons, garters and heels. The front of her outfit had a large Stork symbol on it.

I watched with confusion as the woman sidled up to a rather handsome looking man, whispering in his ear.

"Is that an android?" I asked.

Kamara nodded. "Say _synthetic human_. You get more points. She's probably telling him that his chromosomes are ideal, and he can make extra cash if he joins her in the sex car for a little _donating_."

Following Weyland's instructions, we changed into the YME uniforms Kamara had in her purse, skimpy little half polo shirts with an embroidered patch showing an androgynous child stick figure holding hands with an adult restroom sign stick figure attached to the American flag.

Our skirts were skimpy. Around our necks, we wore police style brass badge necklaces that said `Temp' with the stick figure logo on them. Any time we waved these badges, people stepped aside and let us through.

Aside from our little train lockdown, exit security was light. As the boarders for the trip to South America lined up like a mass of cattle on the opposite side of the train, we calmly strolled down a wide concrete tunnel, with plenty of elbow room.

Not picking up Sil's scent anywhere, I felt confident we had everything under control. For the moment, I could be free to do what I wanted, go where I wanted, without worrying about something trying to kill me.

It wasn't a great world to live in, but it never was. Not for me, at least.

We stepped into steampunk themed train station. A giant old fashioned green clock stood framed by large monitors displaying commercials for Carl's Junior and the Heaven's Gate suicide cult, which somehow had made a comeback with new leadership.

The ceiling of the station had coffering and chandeliers, and the businesses, though covered in computerized digital things, had the look of storefronts from a cowboy movie. The pieces of historic Americana were fakes. They glistened shiny and new.

I still saw few English signs and advertisements, but, of course, this was Texas.

Behind a gilded statue of a pedophile rights revolutionary stood a police station and another casino, this one with an indoor waterfall, and, somewhere inside its wrought iron fence, among the poker tables, a statue of Atlas holding up the world.

We walked past a Night Forest `child care service' near its entrance, and rows of Currency-X machines, weaving through the casino's twisting maze of games, businesses, and ultra gourmet restaurants filled with delicious smells. They proudly served beef, chicken and pork. I'm not sure how much they paid the ASPCA for _that_!

Hearing the opening bars to _The Star Spangled Banner_ , I stopped and glanced at a monitor next to a bar entrance.

The screen displayed a 39 star American flag waving in the wind, one with only 39 stars on it, then cut to video footage of children in uniforms like me and Kamara, crowds of them going to school, socializing in cafeterias, watching people work on cars and wield things. "No one says you have to raise your children," the commercial said. "Serve America. Get paid. Donate them to the YME."

Kamara swallowed a lump. Fighting back tears, I guessed.

We kept walking.

Here and there, I passed women in strange costumes, ones combining features of business apparel with lingerie and hooker outfits. Up top they had short, tight fitting, but formal looking half suit tops with ties of various sorts, but there the formality stopped. They carried suitcases, made business deals on their phones or earpieces, but they only had on tiny skirts, panties or bikini bottoms below the waist.

They were tough, aggressive, no-nonsense people, talking about hirings and firings and quotas. One of these women, one in a Catholic schoolgirl outfit, was actually a Senator, judging by the topics of her conversation.

"The future is sexist," I said.

"Kinda," Kamara agreed. "Still, you'd be surprised at how many women run this country."

We passed a Chili-B's where people were sang karaoke, currently a slow, folk-ish version of XTC's _Dear God_.

At the end of the restaurants, we encountered a statue of Harvey Milk, and an ASUR temple, this one called `Brothers and Sisters of Open Tolerant Minds', before which people with their necks and wrists clamped in stocks got eggs, fruit and vegetables thrown in their faces.

The men were dressed as Hitler, KKK and Nazis, the women as clowns. They'd all been silenced with ball gags. A gold sign behind this display of humiliation read, `All beliefs are true. Respect them, and we will respect you.'

I pointed. "What's all this?"

"They tried to proselytize people," Kamara said.

I stared at her. "They really thought Nazi costumes would...convince people to convert?"

"No, _that's what they dress you in_ , when you _try_ to convert people."

A group of uniformed men dragged a couple fruit splattered Christians through the doors of an ABPN as the crowd shoved a few more costumed Christians up to the stocks.

I looked away.

An advertisement at the entrance of this ASUR said that the Dali Lama would visit them September 9th.

In addition to the idols I'd seen in the other, the temple held a strange looking shrine to a giant flea, and a rat. A man clawed his face with his nails before the flea as he chanted something about God being an insect, and we were its food. I guess that kind of thing is bound to happen in that kind of religious environment.

When he sawed at his wrists with a knife, a pair of guards dragged him into the ABPN.

In the back corner, I could see a `La Petit Daycare', set up like the kind of daycare centers I expected children to have, but it was only filled with adult babies regressing.

They had a Mugwumps next to them, this one selling both the normal fare and medical style oxygen tanks filled with nicotine.

The Family Spirits store stood in between a place where you picked up Amazon orders and a cel phone/brain implant store.

Family Spirits contained nothing but racks upon racks of dolls with eerily realistic human faces. A big sign above the door said, `We are with you.'

I didn't understand what it all meant, and the video displays didn't help. The only thing they showed were recordings of people walking along a beach, holding hands, kissing, unwrapping gifts, birthdays, barbecues, generic stuff that they put in just about every prescription drug ad. The window full of stuffed cats and dogs confused me even further.

Kamara tugged my arm. "C'mon. Uncle Mike wants us at headquarters."

"Before I begin this call," a man in a pink shirt and tie said to the air as we brushed past him. "I need to inform you that I am an outsourced American agent who has renounced his United States citizenship. This call will be monitored and recorded..."

We walked down a hallway (the exit, it seemed), passing between a place that sold plush animal costumes (`Furz') and `The Purple Nurple', a store that sold girly dresses to men.

"David would _love_ this place," Kamara remarked.

I frowned. "You think he's still alive? With... _Mike_ I can't always tell what's a lie and what's the truth."

"I think he's okay, but I'm not sure about the beach house."

`Kid's Nurple' lay next door to it. They sold _collars_. I didn't want to see any more.

Up ahead, a black man and a white man were fighting. I wasn't sure who started it, but the black man punched the other guy in the nose, prompting the latter to call him the N word. A machine spat out a ten thousand dollar fine.

"Ha! That's what you get, cracker!" No fines were given for _that_.

"Watch what you say, Ellie," Kamara said. "You can only say the N word if you're black, and the F word if you're gay. The jury's still out about whether the N trumps the F, or if being gay gives you a free pass."

I gazed at that light brown face that I trusted, the one I always associated with friendship, wondering why people try to paint the character of an entire race with such broad careless strokes. "I'm not really human. I don't intend to use those kinds of words."

Something that looked like dog food with pictures of human faces on them filled a window of a Walgreens near the exit. The labels said things like `Compassion Chow', `Humanimeal' and `Cenalux.' A sign above the items said, `Affordable medication for your SDS - We accept all major plans.'

"SDS?" I asked.

"Stomach Depletion Syndrome. People were dying of starvation under the Affordable Healthcare system. They were getting the best possible medical care, but they couldn't afford food, so the FDA made up a disease and gave people dog food. ASPCA members love it."

"The idea? Or eating it?"

"Both."

We pushed through a revolving door, stepping out into an environment only slightly less toxic than Android's. A steel gray sky, tinged with brown.

Its name: Microsoft, located somewhere north of the Trump Wall at Big Bend. Even someone who had lived around Big Bend in 2016 wouldn't recognize the place. It was all a grid of blocky capacitor-like structures with connecting walkways. Some lip service had been paid to aesthetics, but mostly it was ugly. Industrial.

Still no flying vehicles, other than planes and helicopters. They had special lanes for buses and semis, but the rest of the vehicles were electric.

Styles and sizes differed wildly, many `tricked out' with crazy paint jobs, gold rims or neon running beneath the vehicle, but they all drove with perfectly choreographed precision, no honking, all stopping in a perfect line before pedestrians.

One standard speed. And done without a single traffic light.

Instead of parking meters on the curbs, I saw electric charging stations, where some of these cars sat motionless while people just stood there, or sat on benches, busy with their electronic communications.

Despite the uniform style of car, the air was still gross. I coughed.

Directly across the street, I saw an official looking cube building called `Cash for Children', a medical center that offered to put people in cryogenic freeze or upload their consciousness into computers, and a glass-steel skyscraper labeled `Winfrey-Degeneres Schools'. A slogan below the sign read `Tolerance is education' in fancy script.

 _...and ignorance is strength_ , I thought mockingly. "Winfrey-Degeneres?"

"The American education system is nothing but rote memorization and calculation," Weyland said through my bluetooth. "And they excel at this. If you can exploit that to your advantage, Ms. Ripley, the entire world will crack open treasures at your feet.

"Still, I suppose the WD is ten times better than all these so-called `football academies' that keep springing up."

Kamara turned her wrist towards her face, and the time appeared in glowing digits.

She pushed a glowing dot on her skin, seating herself on a bench in front of a black four door sedan.

"What are we doing?" I asked.

"We're waiting for the car to start. Which should be in..." She checked her wrist again. "Ten minutes."

I frowned. "Why can't you just turn the key in the ignition? Or click the ignition button?"

"Cars don't have those anymore."

"Then how do you drive?"

"You don't."

"What, is this like a taxi or something?"

She shook her head. "No, this is the company vehicle. All American cars are self piloting now, which means we have to wait for our driving window before we can go anywhere."

"I don't understand," I said.

Kamara rubbed her face in frustration. "It's...like a model train set with a computer running all the engines. There are preprogrammed routes for every drivable location, so you just push a button, and the car drives there. It parallel parks and everything. The trouble is, if you're late getting to your car for any reason, and you miss the window, you'll be stuck waiting in your driveway for the next hour, or whatever time it takes before another window opens up. I've heard of one man waiting an entire week."

"What if you're late for work? What if you need to go to the hospital?"

Kamara shrugged. "There's an emergency lane for ambulances. Your job, well...you just have to get another one, or hoof it to work. Still, the streets are incredibly safe. You're more likely to get hit by an asteroid than die in a vehicular accident these days."

"What if you need to make a pit stop? Like getting groceries or picking up your children or something?"

"Grocery stops are an automatic function of the car. You go there at least once a week, whether you want to or not. Some people put in multiple days, just to be safe. Things like soccer can be added to the route. Of course, you might be off the team if you get to the car late."

"That really sucks."

"Honestly, Ellie. If you think about it, who causes the most wrecks? Nine times out of ten, it's someone who's drunk or in a big fat hurry to get somewhere they aren't going to get to anyway, right?"

I frowned. "Well..."

"Oh, and _people on their phones_ , of course. But fully automated cars nip that problem in the bud, don't they?"

Commercial kiosks stood every few feet along the sidewalks. It seemed I would not be able to escape advertising. Anywhere. I stared absently at an ASPA public service announcement, my head still reeling from the bewildering rabbit hole of a universe I'd just stumbled through.

The ad said, "Step on a tail, go to jail," describing how the slightest hint of animal abuse, including feeding animals cheap generic dog food, could result in thousand dollar fees or prison time.

Then came an ad for `Love Goggles,' a device that allowed you to look at people of the opposite sex and know at a glance if they were a compatible match, genetically, psychologically, and astrologically.

It showed a woman rejecting a rather average looking man in favor of one twice as handsome, then the rejected man kissing another man with average looks, wearing a similar pair of glasses.

"Find your type," it said. "Conduct criminal background checks, weed out mental disorders such as bipolar, schizophrenia, and proselytization syndrome. _And much, much more!_ "

Then there was Oropuro. White powder in tiny little vials.

"I thought cocaine was illegal," I said to my friend.

"It was. But Americans are addicted to chocolate and Coca-Cola. Efforts to fight it ended up like the Prohibition. It's beginning to replace gold as the standard of currency."

"Oh...kayy..."

I watched as a policeman warned a hot dog vendor to move his cart along, that his street vending permit expired in five minutes.

"You...seem _really familiar_ with everything," I said to my friend. " _Like you've been here before._ "

She looked ashamed. " _I have._ Remember all those vacations I took to see `relatives in Dallas'?"

I frowned, feeling even more estranged from her. "What about the abortion meat?"

"Let's talk in the car."

She touched a dot on her arm, and the doors opened up.

The car had no steering wheel, pedals, brakes or speedometer. The dashboard only contained a computer monitor with a stereo, a map of destinations, air conditioner controls, thermostat, and a clock.

Our destinations appeared to have a timer, too. Kamara explained that we could park in certain locations for only an hour before the car would take off without us. This innovation had changed the towing business drastically, and it explained why certain locations that looked closer took longer to access.

You could swivel the front seats to face the rear. It had a table in the center with drink holders, and couches.

The compartments for storage were enormous. The vehicle also came with its own toilet, in a privacy booth.

"It dumps into the sewer when your car is charging," Kamara said as I stared at it. "No more restroom stops."

"What if the toilet breaks?"

Kamara opened a compartment in the ceiling, showing me a rack of diapers.

"Gross."

"I agree, but that's how it's done."

She closed the doors, making our computer play a recording of Disney's _Tinkerbell_ movie.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"People don't usually like to pay to see what's going on when you're watching a movie. Disney licensing is expensive, so we can talk more or less freely without a social media backlash."

"Why are people eating aborted fetuses?"

"First of all, Ellie, never call it `abortion meat' or `aborted' anything. You lose popularity. If you are to mention it at all, you need to start calling it `Choice Meats' or `Freedom Meats.' It's more politically correct."

I twisted my face in disgust. "Fine. What's the story about these `Choice Meats'?"

"The animal rights people took over the meat industry. They decided that killing cattle was inhumane, so we can only get milk and cheese from them. There was a lot of Hindu support for that. We're lucky we can still eat eggs. Most of the beef served in America is imported, so it costs a lot more."

"But why fetuses?" I said.

Kamara frowned, then typed something on her arm.

"The clinics needed to balance out costs," Weyland said in my ear. "They were losing money on cremations, _so they wanted to try something else_. Americans pretty much universally agreed that life didn't begin at conception, and animal rights groups said it was only fair, as we were eating bird fetuses already.

"Plus, thousands of American cattle died from the Peruvian Pox."

"What's all this about Family Spirit dolls?" I asked.

Kamara suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Can we please talk about something else?"

I sighed, staring at the video. Kamara turned on live TV.

The Dali Lama had a talk show. The woman didn't talk much, but the TV audience hung on to every word she said. Most of the show was devoted to silent meditation on her words.

It cut to a commercial that said the possession of a gun could put you in prison.

I glanced out the window just in time to see the cop arresting the hot dog vendor, for vending five minutes too long. "Why do they fine people for using generic dog food? I mean, if it's illegal..."

"You can still buy it from different places."

I shifted to a more important topic. "Was Shelly... _too outspoken_ with her faith?"

Kamara rolled her eyes. " _What do you think._ "

"So that story about the laptop..."

My friend put _Tinkerbell_ back on. "You can enter hell the normal way, or go there on rocket skates. Shelly was a rocket skates kind of person. If she'd only talked a little bit less, she'd be _home_ right now."

"She was a _Christian_. She wouldn't..."

"It's a metaphor, Ellie!" Kamara groaned. "And don't talk about hell with anyone. You'll end up wearing clown makeup, with your head in the stocks. You can talk about _Christians_ going to hell for being intolerant, but that's it."

I felt like I was going to cry.

The digital image of Tinkerbell smiled in a way that seemed almost like hateful glee.

"Why are people so eager to revoke their citizenship? I mean, for jobs?"

"Oh. Well, all the good entry level customer service jobs have been outsourced. It gives the companies lower taxes, _and_ excuses to pay the representatives less than minimum wage. They still get to live in the country, they just don't have rights. Anything to earn a living, you know? I've heard of people answering blind ads for those things and getting executed as terrorists, but people still do it."

Hearing a tap on the window, I glanced over my shoulder and saw the little girl in the silver outfit looking hopefully at me.

I pushed a glowing icon on the door handle, one that looked vaguely like a window opening button, and the glass slid down.

"Hi," I stammered, uncertain what to say next. "Um...what's going on?"

The girl gave me a nervous smile. "Can I ride with you?"

"No!" Kamara mouthed silently.

"Why?" I asked the stranger. "Do you even know where we're going?"

Kamara put on something resembling movie theater glasses, squinting at her.

"God. She's playing _Nerv._ "

"You mean like that movie where the girl does everything the internet says for money?"

"Yeah."

"But the point of that movie was it was bad, and we shouldn't play games like that."

"People always pick up ideas for things without remembering the moral. _Jurassic Park, for example_."

Judging by the look she gave me, I could tell she meant Weyland.

Noticing an oddly familiar orange blotch on the little girl's arm, I grabbed her wrist, staring at it.

It was a tattoo of Ernie from _Sesame Street_.

"Nerv told me to get a tattoo, so I did. For some reason, he makes me feel peaceful. I have _dreams._ "

I glanced uncomfortably at Kamara.

" _Keep the main thing the main thing_ ," my friend said.

"Sil," I sighed.

"Come on in," Kamara groaned in resignation.

The girl climbed into the back seat. She had a camera drone with her, which settled on a car seat like a large flying insect, doing maintenance activities that reminded me of a fly moistening its pads.

"Caitlyn," I said. "That's your name, isn't it?"

She looked nervous. "How did you know?"

"I saw you in the Night Forest. You were making a scene."

"Daddy," she sobbed. "It's not fair."

She held a finger to her ear for a moment. "SSO the vid, pleekew?"

Kamara shut off Tinkerbell.

"What about your... _other parents_?" I asked.

"Brenda and Pat?"

"Yeah. Aren't they...worried that you're taking off with some strange older kid you don't even know?"

Caitlyn shook her head. "They're following me. It's fine."

I glanced out the windows, making her giggle.

"Wow! You _really are_ a Homeschooler!"

"She's being followed _digitally_ ," Kamara explained.

I laughed. "Oh."

But then I shuddered. I'd never told her anything about myself, but she already seemed to know everything about me. Big Brother really was watching.

All the doors locked, an engine hummed to life, and I heard a computerized voice saying, "Now departing for 9300 Oak."

Our vehicle rolled out of its space at a precise even speed.

The monitor now displayed a news story about a giant island of trash that occupied a large portion of the Pacific. People were getting sick, and no one was doing anything about it.

Elsewhere in the world, somewhere in Michigan, squirrels and rats roved around apartment buildings and houses in impossibly large groups, killing people's pets, sometimes people. Exterminators said that they resisted poisons, refusing to eat the things they normally used as bait. They seemed to have almost human-like intelligence. The government held conferences to see what could be done about it.

The news program was interrupted by an advertisement for that holographic cat puppet with the dildo hat. They called him `Mr. Kitticunt.' "Teach your child to read with a little hairy pussy," it said.

Utterly tasteless, I thought.

Tinting came down over the windows, making the interior dark and movie theater-like, and we only saw video on the glass. I guess it didn't matter too much, since we had very little control over the vehicle, and the only thing you saw outside were rows of identical looking gray cubes and cars driving in a perfect line.

I swiveled my chair around to face my guest. "Why did you say that you saw your father in that...thing?"

"Before he died, daddy put his consciousness in the computer. _His soul_. I visit him in the Night Forest any time I can."

I frowned at her. I guess I was mostly thinking of all those scary movies I'd seen about the subject. To me, it was nothing but an electronic version of a coffin, you just traded a pine box for a harddrive enclosure. "So...he talks to you in...the computer?"

Caitlyn nodded.

"Are there other...dead people in there?"

"Yeah. It's like a big park. It's very pretty there. I love it. It's so real. One day, before I die, I'll upload my consciousness there, so I can be with daddy forever."

I opened my mouth to say something, but Kamara blurted, "Don't. Just leave it alone."

I smiled uncomfortably, thinking about the humiliating tortures in front of the ASUR temple.

"Daddy says every time I leave, people come and do things to him. He seems weaker every time I see him." She started crying again.

"How can you be with him forever if stuff like that happens?" I asked.

Kamara elbowed me.

"What. I'm just asking."

"It's the only hope I have," Caitlyn said. "Maybe I won't live forever after I die, but, well, I can at least live as long as I can, with daddy."

"Still, _how do you know he'll be there_ when you... _get uploaded?_ "

"Ellie," Kamara scolded.

Caitlyn cried.

I sat down next to her, rubbing her back. She cried on my chest.

The little girl sniffed. "You act like you know something."

"No," Kamara hissed. " _Don't._ "

"I can't say," I told her. "I'll get in trouble. I...just don't think that's your dad. Not in the computer."

Kamara gave me a thumbs up.

" _It's so real, though_."

I glanced at Kamara, then muttered, " _I know_. I...thought I went to Hawaii once, but it was just... _one of those machines._ "

"So _you've been_ to the Night Forest."

I shook my head. "I don't know what it was, but it wasn't real, and I thought it was."

Caitlyn looked troubled, fixing an absent stare at the dashboard.

The screen now showed a news story about a planetary colonizing mission. People lined up for blocks outside the NASA office, despite there being only four new slots available.

A ticker tape message on the bottom said that the blood banks were filling past capacity, turning people away: "`2 many ppl comiting slow sucidez,' sez analists." It seemed sloppy for so-called `professionals' to write things like that on their news programs, but I guess they had deadlines.

A video followed this, one that was literally pornography set to music.

Caitlyn sniffed me. "Have you been smoking pot?"

The odor from the cars, it seemed, had clung to me.

Kamara shrugged.

"I'm trying to quit."

Hearing a bleep, Caitlyn held a finger to her ear again. "Tell me about Jesus," she said to me. "Pleekew."

I winced. "Is this for a dare?"

"... _maybe?_ "

I rubbed my face in frustration.

"They're trying to trap you, Ellie," Kamara said. "They do this all the time with Homeschoolers. Pair them with someone they don't like and force them to ask questions with illegal answers."

"What am I supposed to say, then?"

"Something non-religious, obviously."

"He's the founder of the Christian faith." I left it at that.

Kamara sighed in relief.

"How'd you get a trip to South America?" Caitlyn asked.

Kamara pointed to her uniform patch.

"Oh," said our guest. "I guess I should be thankful I still have a mother." She put on her own set of movie theater glasses, glancing at Kamara. "...And she hasn't sold me yet."

"Did you...say something to her?" I asked my friend.

" _She viewed my social profile._ "

Thinking back a bit, I _did_ notice a lot of people wearing those things, but I thought they just didn't want laser surgery.

"You will arrive at your destination in five minutes," the computer said.

The windows de-tinted themselves, and I found myself looking into a vast parking garage lined with cars identical to ours.

"It must be hard to find where you parked," I said.

Kamara smirked. "Not really. Garages have arrow lights and your glasses give you directions. Of course, here people get ride sharing bonus credit. The company uses them like elevators. Get in with a bunch of people, get out at the place you want.

The car rolled into a parking spot, and the doors popped open.

"This is your stop, Caitlyn," Kamara said. "We can't take you any further. It's off limits company property. No recording equipment. Authorized personnel only."

Caitlyn held a finger to her ear. "Then take me to HR, pleekew."

Kamara sighed and looked at a ceiling camera. "Uncle Mike?"

"Tell her to follow the lights to Sector B. I'll send some agents to meet her."

She must have gotten the message, for she walked away from us. I tried to follow, but Kamara dragged me the opposite way, to a glass and steel entryway aflood with brilliant lights.

With the yellow bands of paint and red signs, it reminded me of the back entrance of a hospital emergency room, but instead of medical symbols and signs, I saw the snake symbol from Weyland's company, the words Phyxo Pharmaceuticals appearing below it in large letters.

"Prescription drugs?" I said. "Like dog food?"

"It's uh... _a front._ Like the dry cleaners from Man From UNCLE. Sort of."

She led me inside a room that looked pretty much like the waiting area of an emergency room. Potted plants. Wheelchairs. Emergency devices on the walls. The chairs were all empty, but they had left the video monitors running.

On one screen, a man in a black dress and pastor's collar stood on a stage in front of a crowd. A sign above his head read `Plentiful Bounty Ministries.'

"God wants the best for you, because He loves you, just the way you are," the man was saying. "You only need _faith_ , and God will open His everlasting breadbasket from above, and _bless_ _you with whatever you ask._

"Want a car? A nice house? Bam. Done. _Just gotta have faith_. Are you alone, and you _need that special someone_? God will _send_ that man or woman to your door, if you only believe in him, believe in that Higher Power, whatever you conceive him, _her or it_ to be.

"He will put _that person, that lover,_ gay or straight, in your life, if you just pray and ask Him for it. People say God is not like Santa Claus, but, as I'm standing here today, _it's a lie_. God listens to prayer, and _He will give you exactly what you ask, when you ask it_.

"I prayed with all my heart for someone to come into my life, _and now I have Steve_." And he kissed a similarly clad man.

"Ugh," I said. "Is this guy serious?"

Kamara gave me a half smirk. " _Yeah..._ And you should probably avoid saying anything bad about them. As an ex-Homeschooler, they're probably the only group you can get points from."

An `orderly' standing next to the check-in station turned out to be Eight, or a copy of him. He led us down a long hospital corridor.

As we passed the various closed wards, I thought I heard screaming, and inhuman animal sounds, but it could have been someone's monitor playing a movie.

Eight opened a set of double doors at the end, and we stepped out on a balcony overlooking a busy call center.

It wasn't like any business office or call center I'd seen, in reality or on television.

They didn't have those little cubicle things anymore. Everyone stood in little chrome drums with soundproof padding on the inside. They had lights and cameras like a miniature movie studio.

Instead of telephones, they had video phones. This explained why everyone (men and women) in those drums wore the same uniform, a short charcoal gray dress with the snake logo on the left breast.

They wore painful looking phone headsets, and, despite having hand chips, management required all of them to wear something like dog collars with photo ID badges on them.

Nobody left the drums. It seemed they didn't get breaks. No water cooler, no coffee machines, no restrooms. Each drum had water and coffee tanks on the walls, with metal tubing which people drank from like a hamster.

We crossed a catwalk running down the middle of this office, descending a set of stairs to a concrete hallway lined with wooden doors labeled with ambiguous names and seemingly meaningless numbers.

Kamara opened one labeled1716. Its interior resembled one of those lockbox areas they have inside bank vaults, except it had changing benches and boxes the size of school lockers.

Kamara instructed me to press my palm to the scanner on one of these boxes.

"Now, Ellie. There's something in here that may disturb you. Before you open it, I want you to remain calm. Breathe normally. Remember, you're not the first person who has gotten one of these."

The lockbox contained a large blue package, paperboard printed with a repeating design of clouds on pastel blue, the slogan, `We are with you' appearing in front of this backdrop in elegantly styled boldface.

Its logo was a large ankh. `Reunite,' said the text beneath.

Then, in small face print, _`Compatible with all religions.'_ It seemed oddly weighty.

I didn't open it. I was too afraid of what might be inside.

Kamara gave me this look like everything was going to be okay, but I wasn't so sure about that.

"This is that Family Spirits thing, isn't it?"

She looked guilty. " _You wanted to know._ "

I opened the lid and found a pair of dolls.

They reminded me of the porcelain things mom used to bring home, but made of plastic, the hands and fingers amazingly realistic in their detail.

The moment I recognized the faces of these dolls, a cold chill ran down my back.

These were not just ordinary dolls. They were photographic quality likenesses of mom and dad.

I screamed.


	19. Chapter 19: Mutiny

DOCUMENT ID #000810020257204: "Diary of Pillow Barnes"

* * *

[0000]

During Sil's escape, I remained in the booth, observing the girl's movements as Xavier and the others tracked her with cameras, barking orders to military personnel.

The girl was fast and brutal. Upon finding a knife on a dead guard, she slashed two more across the throat, then snatched up a gun, shooting a man point blank, effecting her escape. She didn't know how to aim, but she managed to kill a human at close range and escape the building.

Weyland's men hunted her with German Shepherds and drones with machine gun attachments, but she somehow avoided the hail of bullets and leapt over a fence like a character in a superhero movie.

She ran.

I saw a giant purple sphere rolling after her, a thing resembling a vibrating back massager. It moved fast, but she outmaneuvered it, dashing into a minefield.

Her nimble bare feet pranced from dune to dune on the sandy waste, large explosions occurring a half second after her toes brushed against a mound. The purple ball, in blind pursuit of its prey, plowed right through a mine, bursting like a gel candle with a lit M-80 inside.

Sil kept running.

Weyland sent helicopters and more drones.

Sil jumped into a thick cluster of sagebrush, completely disappearing from view. Weyland swore and banged his fist on the desk.

"What do we have on the perimeter?" Xavier asked.

"Nothing. That's what the carrier drone was supposed to take care of...Do we still have her signal?"

Xavier nodded, putting a contour map of the area on the monitor. "The chip's still in place."

"What's she doing?"

Xavier pointed at a blinking red dot. " _Nothing_...apparently."

We waited. The dot didn't move.

Weyland waved to his guards. "Ms. Pulsa can may return to her quarters. We have no further need of her services here."

The flash drive I had discovered in the magician's cell, in addition to containing secret documents, also stored hidden files.

I had found more than secret documents on that flash drive. I stumbled over one of these when attempting to watch an _Alien Nation_ episode in a folder.

The dialog had been pieced together out of sequence, apparently to convey a secret message about how the drive contained a `backdoor' into Weyland's security systems, including the RFID control and monitoring system.

I never touched it. This was merely a tool, a means to help me escape, not a plan. They still held my children and friends hostage.

Now, with a bandaged stump for a tail, I finally had something.

Sil would `remove' her RFID tag in that sagebrush.

I had a map of the facility, I could see the location of the dot, and the video had told me how to loop the data feed back on itself by means of virus, making it look like Sil hadn't moved.

Magic is all about distraction.

Pretending to watch eighties music videos (the media player box concealed most of what I did from the cameras), I punched Sil's coordinates into the virus, pressing enter.

Mr. Weyland was about to get Rick Rolled.

August 10

Initially, when I disabled Sil's chip, my only thought had been to unbalance Weyland's power. Throw a monkey wrench in his plans.

A Christian isn't supposed to get revenge, but I really didn't see this as such. Rather, I saw it as saving a young girl's life, maybe opening the door for us other aliens to escape.

Okay, okay, so maybe I _kinda was_ getting revenge, but I _did_ feel sorry for Sil, and I compared this to an Allied soldier sabotaging a Nazi's human incineration plant. The thought of whether saving the girl would unleash something far worse did not occur to me at the time. My single thought had been to ruin Weyland's little experiment, let the girl demolish everything and do what I could to secure an escape before the smoke cleared.

After bathing in my glorified dog grooming machine, I spent the rest of the night sending text communications across space to Matt, Dista, and other close friends from my home planet, explaining my situation. I knew no one there could truly help me, but at least I had a sympathetic ear. I fell asleep with the device in my hand.

I found myself being awakened by a group of strong men bagging me up in my own sheets like a rabbit in a gunny sack.

I got stuck with a needle and lost consciousness.

When the fog cleared from my brain, I discovered I had been tucked into a soft bed... _somewhere else._

The rounded rectangle window and the cramped outer hallway suggested an airplane.

A little bedroom, with a dresser, mini fridge, and a laptop. I also had a privacy curtain.

I groaned and sat up.

Hearing Nathan's mewling cry, I rushed, overjoyed, to an airplane friendly version of a baby crib, holding the infant to my breast.

Whoever had done this, it seemed, didn't know what I had done with the RFID system. They'd even left my badge on the dresser.

I gently rocked my baby, welcoming his moans and pawing. I allowed him to suck.

"Have you spoken to _Her_ lately?" I heard a voice calling as I breastfed.

I looked up and saw Golic, clad in a baggy police uniform. With his bony features, slack jawed face and bulging eyes, he reminded me of a long haired Barney Fife.

A human, upon having one's privacy violated, probably would have screamed and pulled the curtain closed, but Abreyas are not so body conscious, due to our hairy bodies and all.

You'd think, with the graphic condom commercials that left no room for the imagination, and the male stripper teachers at the Winfrey Degeneres High Schools, that humans would be less body conscious themselves, but I could tell by their behavior and mannerisms that they still got nervous about nudity, they just tended to be a lot more risky with what they wore.

I pointed to my stump. "I've been busy lately. But the last time I visited, Ms. Shasharmazorb was learning to read, and I gave her copies of the _Saggy Baggy Elephant_ and the _Tawny Scrawny Lion_."

"How are the _eggs_?" he asked eagerly.

I shrugged. " _Slimy_. Mr. Weyland's taken them into cold storage. I'm not sure what he intends to do with them."

I glanced through a metal and glass barrier, then gasped at what I saw.

My egg! They had brought it along!

I tried my card on my door. To my surprise, the cell actually opened.

The outer compartment looked like a cross between a cell block and a cargo hold. Weyland's muscular thugs guarded the closed doors at both ends.

"Good afternoon," said a dark shape in the cell adjacent to Golic's.

I smiled. "Hello, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik. How are you?"

"The Lord has blessed me," she answered. "I am having a wonderful time. I have sampled Pacific Lobster, and just received a set of watercolor supplies, which I am about to use on a landscape."

"What kind of landscape?"

She pointed to her tiny window. "The view is so beautiful here. I cried when I first saw it. I've never been in an airplane before."

The creature's life was so sheltered that even the view out a tiny airplane window brought her to tears. I suppressed a sob. "I promise you, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik. One day, I will show you the gardens of Sejam Ucratu, which are twice as beautiful, and we will cry together."

"Until then, I shall content myself with the sheer beauty of what I see outside this window."

My Ss'sik'chtokiwij friend seated herself on a bench, applying dabs of paint to a stretched sheet of watercolor paper.

I watched the clouds rush past the window. "The plane is moving. You might want to take a picture."

Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik dipped a wet horsehair sable into a container of blue pigment. "Claude Monet never painted from photographs."

"I thought you admired Andre Derain."

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij brushed in outlines of fluffy clouds that looked like castles. "Admired is a strong word. I only wish to _attain the same level of skill_ , as I believe that style is somewhat within my reach."

She dabbed in some blue, making part of a cloud stand out. "Your daughter is here. She will be pleased to see you."

She was. Sort of.

I found her playing a violent video game called _Evil Dead_. She didn't even notice me there, she just made the little digital man saw zombies in half and blow people's brains open.

She had a bedroom-like cell, identical to mine. We didn't have much room for variety in decoration, due to the impromptu nature of this flight.

" _Dusaq, foqipi,_ " I said to my adopted daughter. " _Viravocik?_ "

Her eyestalks remained fixed on the monitor. "Dusaq, reem." She sighed, making her digital man disembowel someone with a chainsaw.

I tried to go in, but the scanner rejected my card.

"What they did back at the place wasn't fair," Sharad said. "They lied to me and said that girl was some kind of monster, when she's really no different than me."

I watched her character blow up zombie heads with a rifle. "That's horrible! How can you play that?"

"It's not real. And they're not people. They're _Deadites._ " She dropped her controller, her eyes rubbing themselves against her palms like she were about to cry. "I thought they were going to kill you," she said with a sob creeping into her voice. "I'd be all alone, _faacda_ _remabe._ "

"They can't do that. _I'm a lab specimen._ I hear they even have my tail in cold storage somewhere."

"That poor kid!" Sharad whimpered. "I wish she would have killed _me_ , so she could at least have _her_ parents!"

Survivor's guilt. I thought back to the tragic loss of Xadoori and Naumona, her last foster parents. Sharad still hadn't gotten over their deaths.

"She _chose_ not to kill you, Sharad. She didn't want to hurt you any more than you wanted to hurt her. There wasn't a good solution to any of this."

I pressed my hand to the glass. "Hua chikalat, namfo. Your faith has made me proud."

Sharad cried, touching her palm to the same spot. "I love you, mother."

Then, catching her verbal slip-up, she blurted, "I mean, _adopted mother._ "

"It's okay, Sharad," I cried. "You can call me mother."

The girl wiped tears out of her eyes. "Promise you'll take me back to Pathilon. You, David, the children, so we can be a family."

I could barely speak. "I can't promise that, honey."

"You made a promise to Ernie. I _heard it._ "

I wept at this, giving her a nod. "I'll try. I'll definitely try. Even if it's the last thing I ever do."

I suddenly heard a voice singing _Hello Again_ by The Cars.

In the cell across from Sharad's, a white Ss'sik'chtokiwij larva sat on a little bunk, her head wrapped in a sleeve that allowed her to quietly listen to an MP3 player. Well, semi-quietly.

I introduced myself. Her name was Lacethanny. I'd seen her briefly during the fight between Sharad and Ellie, but didn't know what to make of her, especially after finding out she'd joined minds with Sarah.

"Your husband refused to connect with me," Lacethanny said. "He fears having sex with the human female. Is that normal?"

I laughed. " _It had better be!_ "

Lacethanny told me the enormous lengths David went to just to remain true to me.

I knew it did me no good. David would eventually have to let me go, but my heart pounded with joy.

I kissed the glass. "You wonderful little creature!"

"I taught your husband well," Thonwa called from the far end of the compartment. "I'm not a bad live-in marriage counselor, if I do say so myself. Your man may have slipped up on Fiorina 161, but he's very devoted. He wants to make things right with you."

I gave the big bug an affectionate smile. The people at the facility had been nice enough to provide her with covering for her head tentacles, an oversized Moslem hijab they must have ordered from somewhere. "Do you know why we're all here?"

"Not sure. Perhaps they have more than one facility, and we're being moved to Antarctica or something."

"We are going to track down Sil," Big Bird said as she sketched my portrait on a tablet computer.

Being an android had its disadvantages. Her sketch already looked like a photograph, making her sigh and erase the whole thing. " _Oh, it looks so artificial_ ," she moaned.

"Perhaps you should watch Ernie," I suggested. "See how an organic lifeform attempts to mirror photography."

"It is difficult to make mistakes. I am frustrated."

"Frustration is part of the process."

Big Bird's eyes widened. "How tremendously insightful!" She gave me a big hug. "Thank you! Oh thank you!"

"Abukos," I stammered. "It was nothing."

In the other three cells I found Ellie, the guy with the yellow suit, and Ippi.

I frowned. "So Weyland recruited... _all of us_ to stop her?"

Big Bird sketched my face again, but it just looked like a computer processing a photograph through a Van Gogh themed filter. She cursed under her breath. "You are here for support, and possibly some specialty operations.

"To use a hypothetical example from film as metaphor, the humans on the team can be compared to Bruce Willis's heavy hitting protagonist character _John McClane_ in the movie _Live Free or Die Hard_ (2007), whereas you and the other non-humans could be symbolized by the Justin Long character, _Matt Ferrell_.

"As you may or may not recall, Justin Long's character, Matt Ferrell, is a _computer hacker..._ "

I rolled my eyes. "Thank you, Big Bird, _I get the picture."_

"Idiot," the man in yellow groaned from his bunk. "Stupid. Oldest trick in the book, and I fell for it."

I glared at him through his cell window. "You know, I don't appreciate all that bullshit you pulled with the name badge, _Mr. Magic_. I got in a _lot_ of trouble, and I think I'd still have my tail if it weren't for you."

"Oh c'mon." He pulled a beer glass out of his sleeve, filling it with up with foamy amber brew from one of his shoes. " _Can you blame me_ for trying to escape Weyland's little funhouse? I _did_ at least get you some intel."

I balled my hands into fists.

He took a drink. "What did you think of that _Alien Nation_ episode? _Pretty funny_ , huh?"

" _The ending wasn't what I expected,_ " I said, hinting I had found the secret.

"I have a feeling it's going to get a lot more unexpected _in the next installment._ "

Throughout this little exchange, Big Bird had been hovering over my shoulder. As Weyland's droid, I wasn't sure I could trust her with secrets, especially the kind that could cause me to lose my children.

For this reason, I bristled when she cupped her hands around my ear.

The words she spoke caused all the hair in my pelt to stand straight up in terror.

"I switched Sil's tracking chip back on."

This is it, I thought. Game over.

Weyland's android knew about my meddling with the RFID system. It would only be a matter of time before all my privileges got revoked...I shuddered to think what I'd have to do to get _those_ back again.

Zack laughed as he pointed to my raised hackles. "Loki."

My face flushed blue. "Excuse me?"

"I used to own two cats when I was a kid. Thor and Loki. I always thought they should fight, you know, _because of the movies_ , but they only cuddled and got all snuggly with each other.

"That was, until I made Thor a cape out of some shiny paper stuff." He chuckled. "That was some big screen action right there. They knocked over a scary Halloween mask with a noisemaker in it, and little Thor turned into a big puff ball, just like that."

Ippi, who had awakened during the course of our conversation, muttered, "Careful. _That's how he flirts._ "

I knew this distraction wouldn't protect me from punishment. I stared at the android, fearing the worst.

Big Bird, due to her self awareness, had been sort of a friend to me, ever since we first met. That didn't mean I trusted her. The problem lay in whether or not Weyland could pry into her electronic brain. Therefore, I had to be cautious about what I said around her. "Does Weyland know?...About...what you said?"

"You are my friend. Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik helped me become what I am today. I can never repay that debt. So..." She pantomimed zipping her lips in a most mechanical fashion.

Big Bird told me about how Sil had stolen a helicopter and was heading to the mainland. The news made me feel less than confident that I had made the right decision. "I think you will agree that, regardless of how the creature escaped, she needs to be brought back at once."

I nodded.

"Mr. Weyland wishes to speak to you. I will bring you to him."

A lump caught in my throat. "And why does he want to speak to me?"

The android placed a hand on my arm. " _It's not about that,"_ she whispered. "He requires your services as a consultant."

I breathed a sigh of relief.

I put the baby up, and Big Bird led me into a first class section occupied by a strange group of humans I'd never seen before.

Well, except for the boy I'd seen with Ellie at the ghost town (Josh, I think his name was) and the adorable little African American child with an Afro, both still dressed in wedding attire.

The kids stared at me when I entered, but didn't say anything.

Other people, however, did.

"What the hell is _that thing_?" said a man with spiky hair and a boxer's face.

I put my hands on my hips and scowled at him. " _That was rude_! How would you feel if _you_ got kidnapped and taken to my planet, and someone said that about you?"

He smirked. " _All right, I guess._ I'd just turn right around and say, `Get away from me, you damn dirty apes.'"

I clenched my fists, feeling mighty tempted to slap him.

"Careful, Press," said a big black man with a woven Muslim hat. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned!"

"How do we know that _is_ a woman?"

That did it. I slapped him right across the face.

I thought the man would deck me, but instead he just rubbed his cheek and stared.

A bony blonde woman across the aisle smiled at me. "She's female all right."

She stood up, introducing herself as Laura Baker. "You'll have to forgive me if I stare. I've never seen an extraterrestrial before."

Feeling a little annoyed at the whole situation, I raised the Vulcan sign. "Greetings. earthling. I am Pillow Barnes. Live long and prosper."

Looking bewildered, she returned the gesture, and the other people stood up and did the same the best they could. Well, except for the big guy and the two children.

The former covered his mouth, like he knew what I was doing, but said nothing.

Press couldn't get the finger thing right, which made it even funnier.

Suppressing a giggle, I came close to this Baker woman, raising my Vulcan salute to her head. "May I?"

She looked flattered. "Go right ahead."

I pressed my fingers to her temples, saying "You are a silly monkey" in Wava.

The woman blinked several times when I took my hand away. "Did you just mind meld me?"

"Yes," I said.

"What did you read? Do I want to know?"

I grinned. "No. You don't want to know."

I tapped a knuckle on her forehead. "You watch too much TV. If only I _could_ read minds! I probably wouldn't in this mess!"

A narrow man with Greek features and dark hair stood up, caught himself giving the Vulcan salute, then just stuck out his hand. "Hi. _Steve Arden...Pillow..._ The idea of alien cultures and sociology fascinates me. Would you mind answering a few questions?"

I rolled my eyes, pulling out a little booklet I always carried around for this purpose. "Here. I believe this covers just about everything you're about to ask about me."

Steve furrowed his thick eyebrows as flipped through the pages. "How can you be so sure?"

"You humans are all alike. I should know. _I married one._ "

"And where is this husband now?" Press asked.

I sighed. "Somewhere on Weyland's little island, I'm afraid. You bring him to me, and I'll be much more willing to participate in your little Q and A session. In the meantime, read that booklet all the way through. I've had a lot of practice with this." I shook my head. " _In-laws._ "

Arden sat down, thumbing through the booklet. "This thing reads like stereo instructions."

I plopped down into an empty seat across from the big guy, giving him a friendly smile. " _Dusaq_. What's your name?"

"Dan."

I noticed he had a brown spot on one of his eyes. " _Dan_...You seem... _smarter_ than these other guys. What do you do?"

Judging by the chuckles and muttering from the other seats, his companions didn't agree.

"I'm just... _a guy_. I _sense_ things. You might say I'm an empath."

"Like that lady on _Star Trek?_ "

He shook his head. " _Kinda_. But it's more like _hunches_. They must be pretty good, though, since I've helped put a few criminals behind bars.

"You're a pretty strong female, Pillow. Not everyone can forgive a man that chops off part of your body just to test a soldier."

"Wait," I stammered. "How did you-?"

"Judging by what I've already seen on the plane, this is a military operation. The cut on your tail is precise, indicating that it was no accident, and you clench your fists, like there's something in there that you're struggling to let go."

"So you're a detective. Like Sherlock Holmes."

"No. It's mostly unconscious. I just pick up _cues_ and get _hunches_ about what the criminal will do next. It's what a lot of psychics do." He shrugged. "Mostly it's just guessing until things start to gel together."

"Is there a stewardess on board?" I heard Mr. Magic saying behind me. " _I'm getting kind of thirsty._ "

I rolled my eyes. I wasn't surprised he'd gotten out of his cell.

A door at the end of the section opened up, and a bald man ushered us into a company board room.

We sat around a long table in padded swivel chairs, and waited.

The bald man had nothing to say to us, being too engrossed with work on his slimline laptop. Anytime anyone poked him, cleared their throat, or said, "Mr. Fitch," he just waved his hand and said, "Not now. Busy."

Laura and Arden shared my booklet, Laura silently mouthing the words, following the lines with her finger. Her face wrinkled with either disgust at the sexual parts, or disbelief that a space alien would be both Christian and married to a human.

Press slouched in his chair, head resting on his hand, the fingers of his other hand drumming the table as he stared at me, his expression turning from mild interest to boredom in the space of ten minutes. Smithson fell asleep.

Mr. Magic endlessly shuffled and flicked cards around, performing various run-of-the-mill parlor tricks, sending an ace flying from one sleeve to the other with an elastic band.

He tried to drum up interest in a couple tricks, but he just got people rolling their eyes, looking at him like he were an idiot.

"Wow. Tough crowd," he chuckled. "Next time I'll bring in the big ones."

When Ippi walked in, it was basically like being in the Department of Motor Vehicles for an hour and watching a biker with orange hair sit down. You chuckle, you stare at each other, then eventually get bored and read a magazine.

A few minutes later, the company co-founder Yutani walked in. The wild haired man was rather gruff and unfriendly, his dress and manner reminding me of those millionaire playboy drug dealer types you see in post 1980's Kung Fu movies, you know, the gun toting guy with the sunglasses, white suit, chrome suitcase full of money. (Kung Fu - Sniff, I miss David!)

Other than giving his name, he didn't say much to us, he just occupied himself with business on his phone.

At last I saw Mr. Weyland coming down with Ellie.

"Shall we begin?"

Everyone snapped to attention.

We had a little meeting, going over everything I wrote about above, Sil's escape and what have you, filling everyone in on the details.

I always knew Ellie was special, but I didn't know she was a half alien hybrid until Weyland informed us of the fact. Although still uncertain that this would work, it sounded like sending her after a superhuman clone would essentially be a fair fight.

We watched as Weyland's helicopters downed the renegade in a South American jungle.

They wanted Sil dead, but after the meeting, as I was showed Ellie my son Nathan and my egg, we had a little chat.

"Ellie, I know they told you to kill that girl, but you don't have to. I saw how you were in that fight with my adopted daughter. You have a _conscience_. No matter what they say, God has a plan. He provided a ram for Abraham to sacrifice in place of his son Isaac, and He will do the same thing for you."

The girl didn't appear to be that familiar with the story, but got the general gist of what I was trying to say. "Then what should I do?"

"Just...try to bring her back in. _Let someone else take care of it._ Be a police officer, not a judge, jury and executioner."

She nodded. "Thank you, Pillow. I feel better about this now."

The girl wanted to warm my egg, so I let her, using a quilted cover that Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik sewed for me.

(Later)

My egg hatched!

Praise Ponai!

20 pounds, eight ounces ( _hey, it was in an egg!_ ).

What's important is that she's alive and well, and she has traits of both human and Abreya parentage. Oh, _if David were only here to see it!_

Sadly, I only held her for a few minutes before I started having contractions.

By then, I could tell when I was about to lay (two babies!) so I just had to sit down for awhile.

In the meantime, Weyland had downed the stolen helicopter, and our vehicle landed in the middle of some mosquito infested jungle, Ponai knows where.

The scenery was actually nice. The bay doors opened in the plaza of some Aztec or Incan ruins, but in my current medical state, you can understand how I was feeling at this point. I didn't want to go _anywhere_. _My feet were swelling_.

Weyland brought the whole team outside, and they tracked Sil's movements with their phones.

Josh and Kamara wanted to go out and follow their friend in the search, but Weyland's guards held them back.

I had the babies in my arms again, nursing them, which made both kids wrinkle their faces in disgust. "Weyland's right, you know. It's not safe out there."

"It's not safe in Learning Town," Josh said. "But it didn't stop them from putting us there."

I just shook my head, not knowing what to say.

Ernie _was_ a good tracker, so they brought her along too. The Ss'sik'chtokiwij cried with joy, wanting to paint the scenery, but Weyland said we didn't have time, so I handed her my digital camera, which made her cry some more.

As they led her away from the airbus, I heard her singing _This Is The Day That the Lord Has Made_ and _I've Got The Joy Joy Joy Joy Down In My Heart_.

I seated myself on an ammo crate, suckling a baby on each breast as I watched the team depart.

Abreya babies sing wordlessly the moment the hatch, which is why we spend a great deal of time holding their eggs and singing to them. Some have tried reading to them, but even with elaborate speaker systems, the womb-like environment gives them no ground for descriptive language.

The first tune that came out of my baby's mouth was _Good Vibrations_. My husband and his corny jokes. He was always singing that one.

Weyland had not allowed my husband close enough to the egg to brood with it as long as you're supposed to. Ordinarily, the song you sing the most becomes the one that, as we say, "carries out of the egg," but there were exceptions. I didn't give it another thought.

I thought of David, broke down in tears. Quana started crying with me.

Taking several deep breaths, I sang _How Firm A Foundation_ , another favorite, and my half human daughter wordlessly joined me.

We took in the scenery.

Compared to other temple sites of this nature, this one had fallen into rather poor shape. Not a whole lot to look at. The buildings, having long collapsed, offered us no secure museum pieces to wander.

Still, I found a few interesting facets, so I took a walk, examining the stonework, the pyramid with the literally binocular eyed alligator sculptures, then my feet protested too much, so I went back in to visit with Sharad, showing her the new baby.

We sat next to the glass wall and talked a bit. Sharad told me all about the military training camp she'd been placed in, how they made her go through all the drills and exercises the United States Marine Corps have to do, obstacle courses, tests with teargas and nerve gas, rigorous calisthenics...they weren't quite as picky about personal appearance as they'd be about a human, but the _did_ expect her to keep her uniform perfect.

Throughout this talk, Josh and Kamara just sat on the floor next to me, chins in their hands.

"Who's up for Monopoly?" I heard Jen-Jen saying behind me.

The chunky blonde had been hiding out in the plane somewhere, perhaps in a sleeper compartment, gabbing away on social media, like she often did when I saw her in the hospital. She had on a Hawaiian shirt and khakis, the fabric stretching a bit tight around her potato-like body.

The children frowned at the game box in her hands.

"If not, we've got Scrabble, Chutes and Ladders..."

Jen-Jen sighed when she noticed the lack of interest. "Or... _we can watch a movie._ _There's popcorn. I could make some..._ "

"I'm tired of this plane," Kamara groaned. "I want to walk around."

The hefty woman sighed. "Sorry, no can do. _Rules are rules."_

"I can watch these humans," I sighed. "I'm tired of this bucket, too."

I went back out to the ammo crate and sat down, monitoring the children as they wandered the limestone plaza.

At first, the guards tried to stop us, but when I and Jen explained the situation, they agreed to let them go a handful of yards out.

With the exception of the bugs (Josh narrowly avoided getting bit by a deadly mosquito bigger than my fist), the scenery was idyllic. I burped the babies, put Nathan back in the crib, watched the colorful birds, the monkeys, as they did their ballet through the palm trees.

A strange ghostly shimmering disturbed the calm.

A black ant-like body solidified, seemingly out of thin air, its size about the same size as a large dog.

A Ss'sik'chtokiwij. Just like Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik.

Although I trusted Ernie and her grandmother, it has been my experience that Ss'sik'chtokiwij are dangerous, so I remained on my guard.

"Hello?" I said in its language. "My name is Pillow. Who are you?"

"You speak my tongue!" the creature cried.

"Yes, I was taught by a friend."

Every day after lunch or before dinner, I would have a little chat/counseling session with Thonwa, then visit with Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik. I picked up a lot of the language from her. It helped me teach Ms. Shasharmazorb how to read.

"You've had a good instructor." The creature sniffed me. "You smell like my aunt."

My eyes widened in shock. "Your...aunt?"

"Yes. Her name was _Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik_. She died in the explosion on my home planet."

My jaw dropped. "She's not dead. _She's down in the jungle, helping the team._ "

I grinned at the interesting turn of events. "This is incredible! She'll get a real kick out of seeing you, I'm sure!...What was your mother's name, so I can tell her?"

The creature let out a soft sneeze, a sign of being emotionally moved. "Her name was _Hissandra...Aunt Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik is still alive?_ "

I opened my mouth to say something, but a couple of Weyland's men shot the stranger with tasers and fitted her with a shock collar, dragging her into the plane.

I would have followed them to see what they were doing, but I was having contractions again. I had to sit down.

Weyland's people brought Mr. Smithson to me, limping on a hastily bandaged foot. A sharp edged plant had stabbed him through his boot. I set Nathan in his crib, handed Quana to Jen-Jen, and helped the man to the infirmary.

It wasn't Gebrux Zerrum, but the facilities were adequate. I treated him and let him rest, watching some new version of _Star Trek the Next Generation_ where everyone is young, at Starfleet Academy, wearing dresses.

It actually wasn't terrible, the commercials worse than the program itself. I think all those aliens that `evolved' different methods of reproduction, including asexual methods, made it easier to watch than other things.

I asked the children, and the creatures in the hold, about Hissandra's kid, but Josh and Kamara said they had been barred from following the men...to wherever they'd taken her. I returned to the infirmary, watching a few more minutes of Star Trek.

Near its conclusion, I saw Ippi and Zack carrying in Ellie, all puffy and beaten up looking.

The damage hadn't been nearly as severe as it seemed. I put in a few stitches and just let her rest for awhile as Weyland tracked down Sil's chip from the air.

Weyland, being the great parent that he is, sent the poor girl skydiving with Thonwa the moment she woke up.

"Has Ellie ever been skydiving before?" I asked him.

The answer was no.

 _"Has she even been on an airplane?"_

Again, the answer was no.

"She's a quick read," he said. _"She'll learn."_

"She'll learn or she'll die," I scoffed. "That seems to be your answer to everything."

" _It is what it is_."

Becoming worried, I followed the girl down to the little prison, where my quarters were, but Weyland stopped me from going further. "Relax. I got this."

"She's just a girl," I said.

"You saw how fast she healed. _She's tougher than you think."_

With that, he led her into a cargo area with a bomb door.

I sighed, seating myself on a bench.

"It's okay," Thonwa said. "Michael told me to help."

 _`Michael.'_ Like he's a friend. Good old Thonwa. Always thinking the best of people.

I stared at her. _"You?_ You haven't flown since we were on Fiorina 161."

She shook her insectoid head. "You are wrong about that. Mr. Weyland has been taking me out while you've been caring for those sick children. Not every day, mind you, but I _have_ been exercising."

"You never told me."

She shrugged both sets of arms. "I didn't think it would amount to anything. Just another game of his, I figured."

"Well, that's good to hear."

Xavier opened her cell, leading her out. "Are you ready?"

The Cijmabsa nodded. "It's been a bit since I stretched my wings."

"Be careful," I said. "I don't want to end up looking for a new nennop...or a best friend."

We hugged.

"Good luck," I said. "I'll pray for you."

"And I will pray in midair. Perhaps, between us..." She chuckled through her proboscis.

"The Lord be with you."

That was the last I saw of them, in person, for a long time.

Xavier showed me to the video monitoring system to watch Ellie's progress on the plane's cameras, and on drones. The large screen made it a bit like observing the X-Games, but we had a much more vested interest in this one.

The night vision lenses didn't give as much visual information as we would have liked, but we could see most of what the girl did.

We watched her land and progress through the train, well, when she didn't get lost in a crowd. Sometimes we had to squint at the monitor to tell where she was, or resort to an overhead scan with her RFID tag and a schematic of the train when that didn't work.

Weyland told us to keep absolutely quiet as he spoke into a microphone, coaching Ellie on what to do, where to go. A couple times, Zack interrupted him, and guards took him back to his cell, but what can you do with an escape artist? Ten minutes later he had his feet kicked up on the table, sipping a Cherry Pepsi.

The first expedition was a bust. Sil escaped the train somehow.

We flew above Android Columbia, the central transit hub for the entire country, now only fingernail of what the nation it once was.

"Security is very tight in here," Weyland muttered as our craft drew in closer. "We're nearing the No-Fly Zone."

He intercommed the pilot, and we flew to a large landing pad on the roof of a skyscraper with the Pfizer logo on it.

A group of men in biohazard suits ran out on the asphalt, setting up a temporary containment tent stretching from the pad to the concrete pillbox they came out of.

A moment later, we touched down, and I saw the men enclosing the open cargo door with the final connecting tent. On the whole, it reminded me of that scary scene from the movie _ET_.

You don't want to know how many times David and I have made out while watching that film.

Ahem.

Mr. Weyland led his team through this temporary corridor, the humans at least, but left aliens like me where they were.

Confused, and hesitant to depart with them (on account of the Hazmat suits) I sat down on a bench, gently rocking my newborn as I watched them go.

Out there, somewhere, three children were tracking down an enemy without a single responsible adult's protection, in a world more dangerous than their foe could ever possibly hope to be.

Despite my erotic feelings about _E.T._ , I still had phobias about humans and biohazard paraphernalia. I would have stayed there, but Xavier urged me to join him outside. "Come, Mrs. Barnes. There's work to be done. Up, up."

Unlike Weyland, the man frequently called me by my married name, even though he wasn't supposed to. I liked that about him.

I nervously stumbled to my feet. "I'm not sure I understand. What do you want me to do?"

"Ms. Baker needs help with a project. Since you were so integral in working everything out in the first place, I'm hoping you can provide some insights about how we can stop Sil before she does more damage."

"What about Nathan?" I asked, nodding toward my compartment. I had put him to bed during our meeting earlier, but he liked to wake up at odd times and cry.

Xavier sighed, preparing to say something, but Jen-Jen interrupted him. " _I'll take care of him._ Feeding, diapers, _whatever you need_. _We've still got bottles of your breast milk in cold storage."_

She seemed a little too eager, but at least I had a babysitter. "All right." But I kept Quana with me, since she was a newborn.

I found the Baker woman waiting patiently outside the cargo door. "I hear you were responsible for sequencing the DNA on the Sil project."

I frowned. " _I helped..._ "

"Good. Listen. I want to run some tests on one of those samples we've got in the hold. Maybe test them on some simple celled organisms so we can come up with an antidote to Sil's condition, you know, _stabilize her cells so she won't be a threat to human beings."_

"What if there's no cure to it?" I asked. "What if it just destroys her?"

Laura shrugged. " _We won't know at all_ until we can safely reproduce the experiment in a lab and do some tests."

I just stared at her.

Ippi remained on the plane under guard, but Weyland took Zack along with him, muttering about stage magic and free publicity in exchange for a distraction. Of course, he was accompanied by Eight's kin, androids, and a pair of armed guards.

We walked through the temporary corridor. The big balloon of a tunnel with its little windows probably would have been fun to play around inside, but at the moment it just felt unsettling, especially with all those suited men.

When it got to the part of _E.T._ with the scary Hazmat suits, David would always tease me and say that he'd protect me from them, and we'd kiss some more.

Not so fun without my husband.

We entered a floor with rows of glass windowed offices. All very banal, specific to pharmaceuticals. They still had a vast library of paper documents locked in metal file cabinets, which people in labcoats took out and put back in. Personnel records, prescription information, that sort of thing, I supposed.

They had a pill museum, or morgue if you prefer, where they determined shelf life, powders and slides of various things being examined under microscopes. Then came rows of closed offices where you couldn't see anything.

The top floor of a presumably secured building, where few people, even employees ever visited, containing items of questionable value, and they'd locked it up like Fort Knox. Humans had no common sense.

Our team split up at this point. Since Weyland had his own bounty hunters, Press came with Xavier.

I invited Big Bird to join Ms. Baker and I in the lab, but she said that was boring and wanted to see the sights. The android left with Weyland.

Xavier summoned an elevator with his palm chip, and the six of us crowded into a chrome box with tall digital monitors along the walls.

Still uneasy with each other, we didn't talk when the doors closed, we just stared straight ahead, or at commercials on the video screens.

Explicit ads for erectile dysfunction medication.

The one about the `Illuminar' pill contrasted a crazy man preaching at strangers and handing out Jesus pamphlets on street corners and going home to an empty house alone, to a happy `normal' person who smiled, dressed well and went to wild parties, mingled among Hindus, transsexuals and rabbis.

Allegedly, a chemical called GD3 in the front part of the brain made people overly spiritual and this drug `stabilized' that part of the brain.

"That's a cute baby you've got," Laura said over my shoulder, or, more accurately, _behind it_ , on account of her height.

"Thanks," I said.

"So...your... _human husband_...he was actually able to inseminate you... _naturally?_ "

I blushed. "Uh-huh."

She cleared her throat. "I'm not sure how to put this delicately. Uh, when a _horse_ , and a _donkey.._."

I blushed deeper. " _We'll cross that bridge when we come to it._ If she lives long enough to reach _nurgapum_ , we'll just have to hope and pray that she is able to have children of her own. If not, it's okay. Jesus said that it's best not to marry, that there are people who are eunuchs involuntarily and voluntarily...pleasing the Lord should be her focus."

Laura frowned. " _I see._ "

She continued staring at the baby. "What's her name?"

"Quana."

"Can I hold her?"

Out of motherly pride, I let her.

"Hi," the woman said, shaking Quana's tiny hand. "My name's _Laura_. Can you say Laura?"

"Jen-Jen," she said.

I stared at my daughter in horror.

It took long hours of holding the egg, rocking it, speaking to it, to pattern those first syllables. Hours, it seemed, that I had been intentionally deprived of.

There was an Abreya term for what Jen-Jen did, and it is called a ` _muxhuda_.' It means, `One who steals your egg out from under your butt.'

I guess I should have been grateful. I couldn't say that Weyland _hadn't_ listened to me. Someone _had_ brooded my egg as frequently and lovingly as an Abreya infant needs in those formative months, but I still couldn't help but feel betrayed.

I clenched my fists, wiped tears out of my eyes, thought about slapping Jen-Jen across the face.

Was this Weyland's doing? Did he assign this muxhuda in order to groom my child for some military program?

What was Jen-Jen's motive in all this? Was there a child-less void in her life, like that woman in _The Hand that Rocks the Cradle_?

I prayed for God to forgive my hatred of the woman, then thanked him for at least providing Quana with nurturing and warmth.

But still, it hurt.

"Jen-Jen," I muttered.

I resolved, the moment I and that _babogatten muxhuda_ crossed paths again, I'd ask about her _Good Vibrations_.

"Wait," Laura said. "Wasn't your daughter just born?"

"Guep," I answered with a nod.

"That's remarkable!"

"Earlier she sang _Good Vibrations,_ but this was her actual first word."

"She sang _Good Vibrations_?"

"Just the sounds. You _did_ read that booklet, didn't you?"

"Arden still has it."

"Nathan's first word was Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik. I and David were fighting. Those were not good times."

"And what did _he_ sing?"

" _Blessed Is The King Who Comes, Hosanna._ It's a synagogue melody."

Laura smiled. "Well, _it seems she's taken a liking to Jennifer!"_

I growled angrily in response, but didn't comment.

The elevator took us down a few floors to a vast maze of laboratories, research and development labs for drug research projects. GSK, Phizer, Merck, it turns out all the prescription companies work together. We stopped at one with a big glass window half covered with a flexographic snakehead logo, through which we could see people in white rubber suits and masks mixing things in test tubes and staring into microscopes.

I watched them whirl around their centrifuges, dropping colored liquids into petri dishes, wondering how much of their data came from those deliberately infected little girls at Weyland's hospital.

The thought made me so mad that I briefly considered sabotaging the whole operation, releasing whatever disease they worked to kill them all.

Of course, this was all foolishness. I didn't know if these people actually employed such cruel testing methods, or if I were merely jumping to conclusions about a completely different group of people.

I prayed to Jesus to forgive the misanthropy in my heart.

"I got a bad feeling about them too," Dan muttered. "But I wouldn't do anything until I knew more about them."

I stared. "Are you certain you're not a Bajorian telepath or something?"

He laughed. "I'm just reading your body language. You look like a cat that's trying to avoid a big dog."

The scientists did their experiments at long rectangular workstations, making recordings, jotting things down on computers, occasionally putting petri dishes into an incinerator at the center of the chamber.

When we entered this lab, we had to go through a decontamination process as elaborate as that scene from _Dr. No_. When we stripped, I got stared at, both by my team and workers in the lab, making me more self conscious than I normally am, but I endured it, got sprayed with chemicals, got dressed again, and we could continue on behind a lead and concrete wall, minus the gawking.

Quana endured the process well enough. She cried a little, but I settled her down when we got through the last decontamination station.

With some reluctance, I handed my baby over to Mr. Smithson, the only human I trusted enough to both keep the baby safe _and_ calm. After all, a contagious disease room is no place for a newborn. I would have handed Quana off to him sooner, in the plane perhaps, had I known about all of this beforehand.

Laura and I donned a pair of those tight rubber suits, preparing our filter masks, while everyone else remained in their normal clothes.

Laura told me the material was a plasticized polymer, and not true rubber, meaning that toxins couldn't corrode the material, and the suit, though very flexible and maneuverable, would be unbearably hot.

Worse, it hadn't been made for individuals with tails, so I had to stuff my stump down the left leg sleeve, a source of constant irritation and soreness.

The back area of the lab consisted of rows of small lead and asbestos shielded testing booths. The chrome surfacing and high level biohazard symbols informed me they didn't mess around with contagious diseases.

A control station faced the booth we'd be using, providing us with camera views of areas within the compartment, as well as air conditioner regulation (both for the microbe being tested and the scientist), light controls (black lights and shutters for photosensitive germs), and a myriad of other systems. There were also a number of emergency incineration controls.

One of Weyland's androids, a small dark haired female one named Call, carted the samples into a testing booth with a laptop and scientific tools. The samples came in large refrigerator-like metal suitcases with their own mini air conditioner units.

As she set up all the equipment, I followed Laura through the outer door, my unease growing incrementally the further I stepped inside.

The others remained in the control center outside, switching on the appropriate television monitors.

I whispered prayers as I passed through the inner door.

The central chamber held a workstation with a protective glass and metal box and fume hood for containing toxic vapor. Certain airborne diseases, when combined with chemicals, could form a precipitate, which they could bottle to cure things.

Other than the ones on the inner and outer door, the compartment held only one tiny fallout shelter style window. No emergency exits.

At Laura's direction, Call opened one of the suitcases, placing petri dishes into the test box.

As we waited for the samples to thaw, Laura pulled up a map of Sil's chromosomes, and we had a brief chat about the molecules and cell structures of some common extraterrestrial forms I knew, and how they related to our quarry. I used a stylus to circle and digitally highlight the pieces that resembled Pathilonian crustaceans, parasitic insects, bacteria.

"Have they...tried these chromosomes on other organisms?" she asked. "Other than human beings?"

"They have," I said. "The other subjects died. Which is why I'm surprised this combination actually worked."

"Do you have anything here that can show me the results of the other tests?"

I showed her the files.

"They used slightly different source material for Sil. That's probably why the host accepted it."

"Maybe so."

"I think I know what chemicals they used to make the human test work." Laura gave Call a list of compounds to retrieve. Although we had some of them in the sample case, the android acquired the others we needed with with suspiciously rapid speed...as if someone knew we'd be needing them.

Laura asked me if I had any special alien tools to introduce the chromosome to some generic E. Coli, but I told her no, no one consulted me.

Once all the equipment, including an electron microscope, had been set up to our satisfaction, Call excused herself, saying she would be of greater assistance outside, meaning the controls, but if we needed her for any reason, she would come in to help us.

I watched Laura introduce the chromosome to the bacteria, a scene not unlike that of sexual fertilization. A white ovum-like bacterial cell, on the verge of being penetrated by a needle, an object which appeared to be, under magnification, the rounded point of a pencil with a hole at the end for the insertion of chromosomes.

The cell resisted. When Laura forced it, something cracked, and the microscope stopped working.

"Jesus!" she cried, jumping back, hand hovering over the button that would incinerate the contents of the box.

Scientific curiosity stayed her hand.

We stared in astonished disbelief as what had once been a mere dab on a plastic dish swelled to what looked like a smear of jam, then a large glob of wiggling Jell-O, then balloon to the size of a deluxe Thanksgiving turkey in the space of a minute.

The organism lashed out with tentacular organelles so strong and powerful that they cracked the industrial glass barrier designed to contain it, seeping out the open cracks like a fast version of the creature from the 1980's remake of _The Blob_.

Laura slapped the button, but it took time for the fire shielding to come down around the workstation. The blob already gushed over the sides like a black waterfall.

She pressed the intercom button. "Guys, we've got a problem."

Xavier had been observing our progress from the outside. "I can see that."

The booth lit up with red and yellow flashing emergency lights, a recorded voice warning us about the contamination breach we already knew about. "Incineration Protocol 970 for Test Facility 32B Initiated. All personnel must evacuate in exactly fifteen minutes."

Laura hurriedly skirted the ever growing blob of slime, closing up the expensive equipment, the unused samples. I helped.

The blob expanded.

"Twelve minutes, thirty five seconds," the recording threatened.

The incinerator barrier closed down around the organism, thousand degree torches blasting and bubbling its gooey flesh, but it was a little too late. The creature shrank back in a rough donut, oozing and swelling away from the fire in a way that seemed unpleasantly intelligent.

"Eleven minutes."

The creature enlarged, taking on a vaguely human squatting shape on the concrete. We rushed to the inner door, but it didn't open, no matter how many times Laura placed her palm on the scanner or hit the emergency override button.

The creature slithered toward us, its injury and momentary pauses the only reason why it hadn't overtaken us and engulfed our bodies like an amoeba devouring a protozoa.

Seeing Press beyond the outer door, Laura yelled and banged on the glass, shouting to him. "Hey! Let us out!"

The chamber was soundproof. "Open up!" I cried into the intercom. "We need to get out!"

"No," Call's unemotional voice replied. _"You don't."_

I heard Xavier saying something in the background, but it was lost to the microphone.

Press pushed his hand against the scanner, but it only beeped and made a red light come on. He grabbed the door handle, tried to turn it, but it wouldn't open.

"Hey!" Laura shouted at the robot. "What the hell's going on! Why won't you let us out?"

"You pose too great a contamination risk," Call replied.

"It won't be a contamination risk if you let us out of here before it catches up."

"Ten minutes, thirty seconds," said the automated voice.

"I'm sorry," said the android. "Due to the unpredictable nature of the foreign cells, and their uncontrollable growth rate, this cannot be permitted. Smaller particles may have already escaped into the air or attached themselves to your bodies."

"Nine minutes, forty seconds," said the recording.

Press beat on the glass of the outer door with the butt of his gun. It didn't break. The desperate look on his face told me this was no mere heroic gesture, he cared deeply for my companion.

"Let us out, Call," Laura insisted. "Weyland needs Pillow, and he's not going to stop Sil without my scientific contributions."

The android was unconvinced. "I understand the potential loss associated with this particular course of action, _Laura Baker_ , but this decision is the best for the protection of all humankind."

The creature slithered closer, taking on a squid-like shape that reached for us.

I grabbed a fire extinguisher, blasting a jet of cold foam at the rapidly growing wall of slime. It flinched and retreated five feet, but then it came rushing back, reminding me of a scene from the movie _Creepshow_ where a man flees from a killer oil slick.

" _Call_ ," Laura said in a scolding tone.

No answer.

"Call!"

"The time of discussion is at an end. I am now recording your last words, wills and funerary plans now for future playback. Note: Speak slowly and distinctly to ensure accurate transcription."

"Eight minutes, thirty five seconds."

I could see Dan pointing at us through the glass, yelling as my baby screamed in his arms. Even Xavier was yelling.

Press threw a chair at the window, but it bounced off.

"Seven minutes, five seconds."

Arden shouted something, started attacking something around the door frame with tools.

"Six minutes, thirty seconds."

"Call!" Laura yelled, beating the closed portal with her fists. "Open the fucking door!"

The android silently turned her head to the left, then the right.

"Five minutes, thirty five seconds."

Xavier tried to take over the controls, but Call was surprisingly strong, hurling him to the floor.

I heard the torches switching on. In 335 seconds, this room would become a giant kiln, our bodies reduced to a fine black powder on the testing room floor.

The creature slithered closer.

I tried to ward it back with the extinguisher again, but it no longer feared it.

"Keep us curled in your protective tail, O Ponai," I prayed in Wava. "Shepherd us in this, the hour of our death, whether unto continued life in this world, or into the life eternal. Protect and provide for my children. Watch over my friends. _Anderre._ "

Laura swore and beat on the window with a metal suitcase. It did nothing.

Four minutes and forty six seconds before we were crispy critters.


	20. Chapter 20: Phizer

Naive young Christians believe that if they have enough faith, they can perform true miracles, ones that defy science. Walking on water, snake handling, _surviving a walk through a fiery furnace..._

They fail to understand that their role model actually got his wrists and feet nailed to a cross before defying his own death.

In other words, God, Ponai, might have been intending to use my martyrdom, like William Tyndale, to do great things for His Kingdom.

Still, I didn't relish being eaten by that _thing_ that pursued us, so I overturned shelving, spraying fire extinguisher foam on the creature, opened one of the cases, and threw germicidal substances at it...

"Three minutes, ten seconds."

The creature retreated as one of the chemical compounds splattered on its protoplasmic form.

I believe it was just Lysol antibacterial. It didn't kill the thing, of course.

Outside the booth, Press drew a gun, threatening the robot.

Call remained where she was. I couldn't hear what she said, but I could tell the answer was no.

Press stuck the gun to her temple.

The android reached up and grabbed it, but his trigger finger was quicker. The side of Call's head exploded in a spray of milky white coolant, gray-blue organic circuitry and plastic brain casing.

Call's hand clamped down around Preston's wrist, vice-like fingers tightening without the slightest change in facial expression.

"Two minutes."

The creature oozed around the toppled shelving. I kicked it with my foot, shoving it back as much as I could.

Press gritted his teeth against the android's painful grip, but being a skilled assassin, he didn't let this stop him.

He wrestled Call for the gun. It went off, hitting the ceiling.

Press punched the android in the face, kicked her between the legs.

The robot butted him in the head, hitting him over and over, wrenched the gun from his hand.

She aimed it at him, muttering something.

One minute, fifty five seconds.

Laura took a spray can out of the suitcase, a container of hazardous organic material melting solvent. We donned masks, because it could just as easily dissolve lung tissue.

A curly haired figure popped up from behind the android, slamming a chair into her head.

Mr. Arden.

Call fired, hitting Press in the shoulder.

Arden rushed to the controls, hitting the emergency override buttons. The automatic door to our booth slid open.

We wasted no time rushing into the outer corridor, slamming the door closing switch to keep the _thing_ at bay.

"Forty five seconds."

Call whirled around, knocking Arden to the floor with the butt of her gun. I think she probably would have shot him, but she had some programming that said not to kill him, just like she wasn't supposed to kill Press.

Get them out of the way, burn me and Laura to a crisp. That was her objective, and no one was going to stop her.

Seizing upon the distraction, Press pulled Call into a full Nelson, and in a flash, he had a survival knife shoved through the back of the android's skull, all the way to the hilt.

"Incineration now in progress."

The burners switched on, filling the booth and tunnel with heat and brilliant light.

I felt like a lump of dough on a cookie sheet when the stove is just kicking on. The hot dragon's breath of the torches blew through my fur, a foretaste of my death.

As the fires rained down, the outer door slid open, a pair of strong arms yanking Dr. Baker forcefully outside.

Not leaving my situation to chance or further kindness on the part of my team, I rushed after her, watching as the outer door closed shut on a chamber full of flaming death.

Xavier sighed, leaning on the console. " _That_ went well."

I retreated from the booth, cowering in the corner as I watched the shatter proof windows fill with orange yellow. It took awhile for me to catch my breath, even longer to calm down again.

When I once more had my wits about me, I found my screaming infant being thrust into my hands.

"I think she needs to be changed," said Smithson. "Did you bring a diaper bag or anything?"

"It's on the plane," I stammered.

Laura slumped into a chair. "As dangerous as that was, I _actually did_ learn something."

"Yeah," Press laughed. "Don't fuck with genetics."

She rolled her eyes. "While I admit it was foolhardy to _mess with those particular genetics_ , I was actually referring to something else. The E. Coli we just tested lacks two things he human body does not, namely disease fighting antibodies and inhibitors that limit uncontrolled growth. That's why Sil looks like an ordinary girl, and not, um..."

"Not like _Akira?_ " I supplied.

The woman stared at me.

"It's an old cartoon my husband likes. The people in that show had muscles that swelled grotesquely beyond the shape of their bodies, until they became a huge sort of blob. Uncontrollable cellular growth, more or less."

"Yeah." Laura shook her head in frustration. "It's to bad we don't have a safe way to experiment on inhibitors."

Press crossed his arms. " _Oh I don't know_ , why don't we just stick one of those damn _droids_ in the booth next time, and fry a few circuit boards? _I'll make popcorn._ "

"That _is_ a good idea," Laura agreed. "We probably should have done that to begin with. I guess I'm just used to living by the motto, `If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself.'"

Xavier pulled his phone out, listening for a moment. "It's Weyland. He wants us back on the plane."

"What about the experiments?" Laura asked. "The inhibitors?"

"He says to take the materials with you. We'll continue the tests in the old GSK building."

We hurried through the decontamination process again, got dressed, returned to the plane.

Jen-Jen cheerily greeted us as we marched up the loading ramp, bouncing Nathan in one arm. "Hey, guys! How'd it go?"

Thinking about how I'd almost died, and how eager she would have been to step in to replace me, I slapped her hard across the face.

"Ow," she moaned as she rubbed her stinging cheek. " _What was that about?_ "

"Keep your _Good Vibrations_ to yourself, you egg stealing bitch!"

With that, I snatched Nathan out of her arms, stomping away.

I returned to my room, crying on the edge of my bed.

"You weren't there," said a voice from the door. "The egg needed nurturing, or it would have had stunted development."

I glared at the rotund woman, my vision blurred with tears. " _How dare you_! You separate me from my own offspring, so that _only_ _you_ can imprint them, _and you have the nerve to accuse me of child neglect_? How would you like me to steal your children and train them to call _me_ their mama? Would you like that, you _cofbagan muxhuda_!"

She seemed to smirk, but hid it well.

Her response told me she completely missed the point. "Human babies don't have the ability to speak until they're eight months old. And they can't sing until they're about two years. I know because I have two of my own."

Dripping with emotional venom, I asked, or rather _said_ , " _How long have you been preparing my unhatched daughter to be an instrument of death?_ "

"How could I do that?" she replied with an ignorance that seemed almost artificially contrived. _"All I did was strip down to my underwear and hold her egg."_

Through clenched teeth, I growled, "My Lord Jesus is the only thing that's keeping me from giving you a black eye."

Jennifer didn't blink. "Oh. I thought it was because you were afraid of having your visitation rights, I'm sorry, _visitation privileges_ , revoked."

She might have just as well been describing the weather forecast, given the amount of calm and indifference she expressed when saying this.

My face turned nearly a solid blue with anger. I clenched my fists, whispering prayers.

"Is there a problem?" Ippi said from behind the woman.

"Yok," I said. "This _muxhuda_ was just leaving."

 _"Any time you need a babysitter..."_ Jennifer offered, an obvious veiled threat.

She walked away with an unhurried, lazy pace, to maximize the effect of the metaphorical salt being rubbed into my wounds.

"Should I kill her now?" Ippi asked in Wava.

I shook my head. "I must leave vengeance in the hands of Ponai."

She uttered a sneering cat hiss in response, leaving me.

I prayed and held my babies.

I needed my unofficial nennop to counsel me, but she still hadn't returned.

I have other friends, I thought, placing Nathan in his crib.

When I tried to leave the room, the door wouldn't open.

I banged my fists on the glass, shouting for help.

A minute or so later, I saw Mr. Smithson's face at my window.

"What's going on?" I cried. "Why isn't my badge working?"

Dan shrugged. "They say you _assaulted someone_."

" _Who_ says that?" I growled angrily. "Jen-Jen?"

The man shook his head. "There was an official message from higher up. A _board_ of something. Everyone's got orders to keep you under confinement. They think you're going to hurt _passengers_ and _release deadly aliens_. You're lucky they even let me talk to you."

"That bitch!" I cried. _"All I did was slap her!"_

He gave me an apologetic look. "I know. _I saw it_. But they made it sound a lot worse than it was. _They didn't even mention who was assaulted."_

"Then why didn't you say something?"

He bonked his head against the glass in frustration. "I did, but it didn't do a damn bit of good. _She went over your head_ , Mrs. Barnes."

Smithson must have noticed my annoyed grunting, for then he muttered, "Look. I only know because I'm an _empath_. I had a _hunch_ that Jennifer reported you. I can't _prove_ anything. Folks are wondering if you beat up a guard, _even people on the team!_ "

He sighed, gazing at me and the children with pity. "You'd best be careful from now on. I've seen this same exact thing happen in _prisons_."

"And how does one solve it there?"

Dan frowned. "Having someone stab them to death with a shiv."

He took a deep breath. "You want my opinion? Your religion teaches you to love your enemy. You'd better go _overboard_ with that, or you're going to lose what little you have left."

I punched the glass with my fist. "It's no use! She'll see right through the act!"

I sighed, dropped to my knees. _"The bitch! She probably planned it this way from the beginning!_ She's probably already listening in with those security cameras as we speak." My next words came out in a sob. "I'm never going to see them again, now matter what I do! She knows!"

"Don't act," he said. "Remember that story about Solomon? The one where he threatened to chop the baby in half so that both mothers could have it?"

I swallowed and nodded.

"Do you want to be the woman that yells `cut him in half,' or do you want to be the _real mother_?"

He left me to think about that.

It is a tough pill to swallow, forgiving an enemy that feels no remorse, and keeps gleefully sinning against you. From this angry powerless state, I had an impulse to use my communicator to tell everyone back home what a bitch Jen-Jen was, how cruelly her corporation treated me, maybe get someone to bring a ship down to kill these humans, start a war.

The trouble was, we didn't have Pathilonian government backing on our intergalactic mission trip. We actually signed _waivers_ saying whatever happened was our own responsibility.

While Christianity is thriving on Pathilon, it has yet to gain planet-wide acceptance, or even nationwide support. We are like the early disciples in the book of Acts, little unpopular pockets of faithful believers, scarcely enough to overthrow any government agency.

So, I could spread a lot of nastiness abroad, which would be off-putting to Quacebs and new Christians alike, and/or possibly take Ippi up on her offer to slit Jen-Jen's throat.

The latter would probably cause Weyland to take my children away from me forever.

The former, well, the new Christians would say, "I thought Christians were supposed to forgive their enemies. What makes her any different than the vengeful Quacebs we deal with here?" the wiser among them saying, "Here is a Christian who cannot endure persecution."

I prayed out the worst of my anger, my hatred, so now I'm journaling this on my computer, limiting my comments to what was done to me, and what I felt, without all the additional nasty comments and opinions.

Our plane must have been designed by the same humans who made the ship that brought me to earth, for it had a powerful laser propulsion system that allowed us to cross the Columbian Strait as fast as the train we appeared to be pursuing.

In the other cell, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik still worked with her paints. As fast as the oceans and the clouds passed, I doubted she would have a chance of painting a decent `landscape'.

I wondered about the tight security around the coast, and the gunboats, but somehow we flew past them unharmed.

I heard some shouting and arguing. Laura pushed her way into the compartment.

The first time she and her companions walked through our little jail, on the way to to Pfizer, they had all been staring like tourists at a carnival sideshow. It seemed they had entered the plane by a different route.

The guards had moved them along before they could get properly introduced to anyone, both out and on the way back. Xavier pointed, said, "That is Ernie," and "This is Lacethanny," and the rest, but that was about the extent of it.

Now Xavier was leading the small blonde woman into our compartment, up to my door.

"How is our _dangerous criminal_?" she asked.

"I'm fine," I sighed. "I wish I had never set foot on this rotten planet."

" _I know the feeling_ ," she said. "I applied to the space colonies twice. They turned me down on account of my asthma."

Xavier still clutched Laura's arm protectively, staring at me with concern.

She brushed his hand aside. "We almost died together. I _don't think_ she's going to hurt me."

She gave me a wry smile. "Of course, _I could be wrong..._ "

"No, no." I waved her in.

Xavier opened the door, and the woman seated herself next to me on the bed. "Your flying friend is AWOL. Any idea where she took off to?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. If I were her, I'd just make a home for myself where I was, and stay away from humans."

We'd discussed the subject before, before we took our little plane trip, and that's exactly what I told her to do.

If we have no ship, no way back home, that's all an alien _can_ do.

Messages would, however, be sent to our Abreya contact in Nebraska, should any of us elude detection long enough for a rescue mission to be undertaken.

I stared vacantly through the glass part of the cell wall. Fragments of Quana's egg, by now, had been sprayed with preservative, shrink wrapped and frozen for posterity, so there was nothing in the cell adjacent but the incubator.

Sharad waved to me through the gap. I smiled a little, but felt certain that we would not be together again for a long, long time.

"What's going on with Sil?" I asked my human companion. "Did Ellie catch her?"

"We're not sure. Your friend Ellie's chip seems to be stuck inside one of those pay office cubicles, and we're not getting a good view.

"The good news is, we're still getting vitals, and for that reason, we don't think the chip, or her hand, have been removed, nor is she dead. Still, she's not moving."

"Unconscious, then."

Laura gave me a nod. "We think so. Sil, from what we can see, appears to be metamorphosing into something. She built a cocoon over the camera."

"How are Ellie's friends doing?"

"Ellie is a little... _clueless_ , so Weyland sent Kamara to help her out. They seem to be fine."

"I saw a little boy with her. What about him?"

"On the Disney Quicksilver with his uncle and Weyland."

I scooted back on my bed, resting my spine against the wall.

Laura gestured to my belly, now beginning to show the tell-tale signs of swelling. "When do you expect to be due?"

I shrugged. "Not sure. We don't carry them as long as humans. My last two took about three months to lay...I'm sure this isn't a social visit. What do you need?"

She looked disappointed that I saw through her attempts at establishing rapport. _"That obvious, huh?"_

I nodded.

"I need your help preparing for the next experiments. I'd like more detail on those _creatures_ you modeled the molecular structure after, maybe see if we can _correct_ a few things."

"Introducing such changes at such a late stage might be fatal."

"I know, but _she's already killed eight people_ , not counting the guards at Weyland's compound. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't want any more deaths on my conscience, if I can help it."

"They're only humans."

She gave me a look that said, ` _Oh really?'_ "Yeah? _Well so is your husband._..And _Jesus_ , for that matter."

I opened my mouth to interject that Jesus is also God, but she raised a hand to silence me. "Save it. _I was raised Catholic._ I just want to know if you can help."

So I did.

It was a long flight, but it felt even longer due to the guards keeping me from leaving my quarters, even to use the toilet. I had to use the one in the cell. My food and other supplies got _brought_ to me.

I fed, changed and took care of the babies while helping Laura to understand the data.

It turned out the woman _had_ read a fair amount of the booklet, so I told her a few additional things about my planet, about the wildlife centers, religious and historical sites, particularly the elaborate Quinamm 54 memorial.

On the fifty fourth day of the month of Quinamm, a group of cultists from the Wenlorm school aimed a large laser cannon at the central government building in Bencap, Pathilon. Their target, stretching for miles in every direction, contained roughly a million Abreya civilians, civic officials and government personnel.

The memorial is one of the great engineering marvels of Pathilon, featuring one of the largest botanical gardens in history, and our biggest Qudinge, which are sort of like rodeos.

I, in turn, learned more about Laura.

My associate's Catholic confirmation class had a comparative religion study that basically told her every religion is true, that they were all masks of the same God. She had a lot of questions about that, especially the way the various religions fundamentally contradicted each other, ones that the priests and nuns at her church couldn't provide a satisfactory answer for. The left the faith and became an atheist.

An independent thinker divorced from the rote memorization Winfrey-Degeneres mindset, she actually _studied_ her textbooks, her findings resulting in several scientific breakthroughs that ended up getting stolen by spying Afexun hackers with video document editing software.

The big companies, however, _were_ watching, and when the thieves were gaining grants and awards from her hard work, she acquired a seat on the board of research and development, her enemies maintaining their own smaller careers only by robbing someone else.

I thought Arden would be fascinated by our discussions, and our work, but it seemed the booklet had been enough, for, after listening to us talk for awhile, he chatted up Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik instead.

We saw land before we could arrive at any sort of useful chemical compound that had any chance of stopping our hybrid.

A few hours later, the homogenized blocky buildings of a city called Microsoft Texas appeared beneath us, the flat inorganic pattern reminding me of microchips and capacitors on a circuit board rather than a place where people lived, an effect intensified by the unvarying repetitive movements of the associated ground vehicles.

"It looks like the Borg homeworld," I muttered.

Laura smiled. "I remember what you said in that booklet. You're _sure_ they don't exist?"

"No," I chuckled. "But I'm sure they'd love _this place._ "

"It's not like this on...Pathilon?"

I shook my head. " _Yok._ It's not like that in Nebraska, either."

She gave me a skeptical look. "When's the last time you've been?"

" _It's been awhile_ ," I admitted.

"Come to think of it," she muttered. "There _is_ a big Homeschooler site up there. Beck's Town, I think it's called."

I nodded in recognition. " _`This far and no further.'_ My husband is from _Hannity._ "

She gave me this wistful look, the kind people used to give the Amish. _"We think we're so superior, so evolved, because we have better technology, but sometimes I wonder."_ Her eyes became unfocused, dreamy, as if seeing through me, to the town. "I almost ran away from home once, to join them."

"Why didn't you?"

Laura gave me a knowing grin. " _Peer pressure._ "

Having been allowed some measure of freedom of movement once again, I visited with Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik.

While I had been busy with work, and almost getting killed, the Ss'sik'chtokiwij had occupied her time with watercolors. I wouldn't say she was a Michelangelo, a DaVinci, or even a Fauve, they were still nice looking pictures. Very _Haptic_.

The paintings of Android Colombia and the jungle scenes I enjoyed the most, due to their liberal use of color and detail, but the clouds and ocean paintings were good too.

"I expect my next series to be even better," she said. "These simple geometric forms may seem a little monotonous at first, but each have a pattern of structure and weathering unique to themselves. There's character in the small details, if you have an eye for it."

"And if there isn't, you could always use a strange color, like Van Gogh."

"This is true."

I watched our approach to the GSK building from a webcam.

The cube was tall, midnight gray, and pitted with windows that looked like eye slits on a medieval helmet. Orange-brown smog, tinged with black, swelled around the building in great clouds.

We came nearer. I saw a figure in a black tuxedo unfolding a long royal blue tunnel made from large modular folding boxes, patterned with stylized stars, moons and astrological symbols. This drama seemed like nonsense until I noticed the camera drones buzzing around the rooftop.

A group of men in Hazmat suits stepped behind this temporary wall, and stayed there. I saw no sign of them leaving. In fact, they appeared to be _missing_ , for then the suited figure collapsed the boxes flat onto the rooftop, showing there to be no one there but him.

Once the plane landed, the guards marched us out the cargo bay. I discovered the tunnel still existed in the form of mirrored boxes.

We followed this tunnel to another complex of pharmaceutical departments, offices, storage areas, miniature hospitals filled with human guinea pigs (please - no jokes, I'm not technically human or a true guinea pig), research and testing facilities, taking another elevator to our new lab.

I saw no difference between the design and layout of this place and the previous. Sterile, undecorated, white. I imagined the company wanted to results of their experiments to be uniform down to the last detail, in all their locations, hence the homogeneity.

 _We used androids_. That's the only reason why Laura and I agreed to it in the first place. We would not set foot in the testing booth, merely convey our instructions through the intercom.

It proved to be an excellent idea. Our Mara unit could see the tell-tale signs of danger before the cell growth expanded uncontrollably, activating the burners as she collected last minute data.

We knew that Xavier had backup hybrid fetuses in the plane's cold storage, but hesitated to use them, I for moral reasons, Laura due to her wanting to test simple cells first.

Now that we knew about the growth restrictors, we spent a great deal of time extracting cells from these hybrid fetuses and testing them with different antibiotics and diseases.

I didn't see much morally wrong with this, for if we found something that worked, they'd have methods for implanting the baby in a healthy human womb, and we'd have a safe living hybrid. We also only took _small_ cell samples, from places in the baby's body where it was safe to extract without harmful lasting damage.

We tried a few different things, putting samples in a tray with smallpox and influenza, antibiotics, then finally some more dangerous tests, a modified version of the alien chromosomes, and finally another hybridized E. Coli test cell.

We watched the electron microscope with nervous dread as our E. Coli swelled threateningly in the dish, engulfing the sample.

But then, to our surprise, our black genetically altered E. Coli shifted color to a pale white, filling the tray with foam.

The substance remained inert, motionless.

"That's interesting," Laura muttered. "I wonder how we can get close enough to Sil to administer this?"

I furrowed my brow. "The residue? Or the E. Coli?"

She answered, "The one that works."

"Xave," we heard Weyland calling on the intercom. "There's been a problem with our security checkpoint. Sil got out again. Bring your team down to the Meadowlark Room immediately."

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611602

(Elle's Journal - Cont'd)

* * *

[0000]

I'd just been presented with a coffin-like box containing what were essentially Voodoo dolls of dead family members. You can understand how I might scream and hyperventilate. The dolls and their padded box fell to the floor.

Kamara donned her glasses and formed a square with her fingers like a photographer sizing up a shot.

"What are you doing?" I sobbed. "This isn't funny!"

"I know," she sighed. "But some people think it is. Especially with a Homeschooler."

I glared at her, tears flowing down my face. I was about to go off on her, calling it quits on this whole friendship.

"Look. I'm really sorry," Kamara stammered. "It's a _tradition_ with anyone who has just received their first Spirit doll. Your _Afexun_ account needs cred. Right now you're just a square bear from nowhere. You just magically appeared in the bathroom of a South American train. We need to give _Afexun_ something memorable, so they'll forget you."

It took me a moment to process that last line. "Wait. What?"

"Nobody on the network knows you right now. Uncle Mike's working on the problem, but it's not going to be easy. People will have questions. We have to make it look like you existed in the system all along. If people don't know anything about you, they get curious and uncover secrets we don't want them to find.

" _But if we hide you in plain sight..._ throwing a bone here and there, they'll say, `Oh, that's just the girl that screamed' and they'll ignore you. Nothing gets ignored faster than a cry for help."

"It sounds like your website is an oxymoron."

"Try to limit your vocabulary. You'll stick out if you keep using big words like that."

I wept quietly for a moment, staring at the dolls.

They had been dressed in the same exact outfits they were wearing before they died, with the words `mother' and `father' embroidered into the fabric.

"How did they get their faces so lifelike?" I asked. "And the clothes?"

"It's a feature of _Afexun_. Your folks must have been on it, or Uncle Mike uploaded their data."

I touched my finger to my father's bearded face. "What we're saying right now, this is all being recorded, isn't it?"

"Actually, no. We're in a business environment. Corporate privacy is pretty much the only privacy we have left. That and copyrights."

I turned the dolls over, staring at their backs. They had small battery compartments, with batteries inside, a single AA for each doll, but they didn't talk when you squeezed their hand or anything. "What's this about?"

"I think it's some kind of radio. People say they hear their dead relatives whispering things to them when the batteries are in, but people have cut the dolls open and haven't found any wires or speakers or anything." She shrugged. "We'll have to ask Mike."

She put a hand on my shoulder. "I'm really sorry. It was cruel what I did. But you can understand, right?"

I sniffed and nodded.

Kamara gazed sadly at the dolls. "They were nice people. A lot nicer than your Afexun twin."

"What?" I said.

"I'm sure you'll get more information during the debriefing."

"Don't you mean `briefing'?"

"Well, yeah. Do me a favor, don't nitpick people's English out there. It looks bad for you."

The dolls came with a little instruction booklet. This what it said on the first page:

`Ellie, this is George, your dad. Me and your mother love you so much that we want to be with you always, even after death. We're here, sweetie. Our spirits are right inside these dolls.

`Nellie says she loves you, despite what happened. It's not your fault. I don't want you to be afraid of us, or our new bodies. We're happy, and at peace, and will always be, as long as we have you.

`You have nothing to fear. Feel free to talk to us about anything, just like you did when we were alive. We'll answer you, honey.'

It sounded like dad. I rubbed my eyes, fighting away tears.

I turned the page and found myself looking at a slick perfect bound copy of my family photo album.

I knew, intellectually, that my family moments were all contrived, but they made me cry anyway.

There were little notes on the side, in mom and dad's own handwriting, saying stuff like, `The first day you went to school with that Barbie, I had to drive down to Mrs. Touchette's office and explain to the other kid's parents why the other girl had the black eyes.' And, `We used to punish you by hiding that stuffed monkey in the attic.'

I laughed and sobbed at the same time.

Here I was with Aunt Andrea and our huge green gas guzzling Ford LTD, dad's scrawled comments reminding me of how the tire pinched the nerve in my foot, and we went to the hospital, but I was perfectly fine. In fact, I shoved those little black otoscope things up my nose and did walrus impressions with a pair of tongue depressors.

I was crying so hard I had to stop and put the book away.

"It's called Variable Data Printing," Kamara said. "They feed text and images in from Afexun."

"What about the handwriting?"

She frowned. "I...don't know. I've heard they're either forgeries or automatic writing, like from a psychic or something. Of course, people don't always type in Afexun."

I wiped my eyes. "That's not how it works. If the dolls get dropped or stolen..."

" _I know_ ," Kamara said.

"I've been to heaven," I said. "I saw Shelly there...and other people."

She didn't look like she believed me. "I'd... _keep that under my hat_ , if I were you."

I didn't want to touch the dolls. Well, I _did_ , but I was scared. It was still a horrible idea.

"Pick them back up," Kamara said. _"You have to."_

I didn't. "I will. Before we leave."

Kamara directed me to another lockbox. _"They gave you more than dolls."_

The next thing she pulled out looked like a miniature suitcase.

It contained a beautification kit, a picture badge with a dog collar, a black book with the YME logo on it, and a pair of those movie theater glasses.

I took the glasses out, turning them over.

"I'd wait for Mike to give you instructions before you use that."

I put them back, opening the book. It turned out to be a laptop.

"That's the employee handbook. Files and policies constantly update, so we can slip other things in without anyone noticing.

I found a paperback underneath it, _Living the Bounteous Life_ by Jimmy Hampton.

"This is your codebook. The winning numbers on the back of your horoscopes correspond to page numbers and sentences."

"Oh...kay?"

I had no idea what the applicability of all this was. Did they want me to go to the east coast and battle Al Buraq for the colonies?

Kamara opened the beauty kit. "Most of this is just for appearances. You want to look good to maintain your stats. Make sure you stay away from Smurf Blue, though. It packs a whallop. If you swallow any of the lipstick, you'll be on the floor in a split second."

She turned the tube of lipstick upside down, making a skeleton key pop out. "In case Josh hasn't taught you how to do locks, this might be handy."

She showed me pepper spray, made to look like deodorant, one of those reusable tampon things (nothing special, it was exactly as they described on TV), and a combination emery board and clipper tool that folded into a stiletto.

My powder compact had a video screen for a monitor. Weyland's face appeared on the monitor.

He furrowed his brow, rubbing his head from one of his headaches. "Is she finished in there yet?"

"Just about," Kamara said. She closed the device.

One eyebrow pencil could cut glass. The other was a laser. The hair drier fired bullets.

I pointed to a collection of multicolored condoms inside the lid. "I'm not sure I want to know."

"Party favors. Deadens the nerve endings on contact. Think of it as a friendly way to say no. Who knows, you might need it. Just don't put them in your mouth."

"I don't get it," I said. "Why are you showing me all this? Is Weyland planning to use me to attack the 13 Pillars?"

Kamara shook her head. "It's _Sil_. _Somehow she got out."_

My `school locker' contained outfits of varying kinds, all small, not very much coverage, unless I wanted to look like Catwoman with rubber pants. I _did_ find some leggings, though, light gray, not too attention grabbing. I pulled them on under my skirt.

Kamara gave me this look like it was maybe a little too decent and Homeschool-ish, but she didn't say anything.

She led me out and down a hallway to a meeting room with a long glass table and a conferencing device. The walls were cherry oak, one occupied by a movie theater size monitor. Wide panels along the other walls, each engraved with the snakehead symbol, looked like something that could be opened to reveal more presentation spaces.

A pair of Eight clones stood guard around the door, watching us, in case anyone tried anything funny. Weyland slouched in a padded leather swivel chair at the far end of the table, gloomily brooding like a tyrant king about to deposed.

I found the usual team there, with the exception of Mr. Yutani, apparently away on other business matters.

Pillow and Ippi stood in the corner, looking strangely aloof. Ippi now wore a silken black and yellow alien toga, and Pillow had traded her scrubs for a pair of denim shorts and an X-Files t-shirt. Considering the coats of soft fur covering their bodies, I thought they could probably wear the kind of things I saw other people wearing outside the building and still be decent by 2016 standards, but they had chosen not to.

Pillow's children were not present, which seemed to make her quite glum. Well, until she saw me.

I rushed up to the alien, throwing my arms around her. "Pillow! I am _so_ glad to see you again!"

"I'm happy to see you survived the fall," she said. "And that fight."

"How are your children?"

She suddenly looked depressed. "They're fine. Little Quana's asleep."

"Quana? That's what you called your new baby?"

Pillow nodded. "Quana Falcameer was the pioneer of the Quaceb Christian faith, and a good friend."

"I'm not complaining, but what are you doing here? There are cameras everywhere. You're sure to get picked up by Afexun."

"Weyland has a _system_ to hide us from drones."

"There's a landing pad on the roof," Ippi added. "We took a freight elevator. Mr. Magic even set up an invisible tunnel illusion."

"So I'm Mr. Magic now," Zack said with a chuckle. " _Working my way up!_ "

She snapped her tail. "The only thing you're _working up to_ , Bottomiller, is a trip to the hospital."

"Once you decide to do that, Ippi," Weyland said. " _I want to see it._ It'll give me one less item to check off my bucket list."

Zack held his hands out, as if stretching toward an invisible fire. "This is me feeling the love."

I just grinned and shook my head. I preferred the craziness in there to the insanity outside.

"What, no hugs for me?" Ippi asked me.

I shrugged and gave her one as well.

"You did good, kid," the alien said. Then, in a lower tone, "A _really good job._ Keep doing what you're doing, and _just be yourself_." She rubbed my shoulder, smiling at me in a way that hinted that she might not have the team's best interests at heart. "Bea brihuman giwikaha kreah nomateb gibet."

Pillow appeared to squirm at those words, but I didn't get it.

"What happened to Thonwa?" I asked.

Ippi shrugged. "She removed her chip. She's probably flying around in South America somewhere."

She frowned at my dolls. "That's so disgusting. You know it's not them in there, don't you?"

I nodded. "But other people actually believe it is."

Xavier, seated at the far end of the table had been examining something on his phone, but he set it down when he heard us mention the dolls.

"Yours are slightly different than the others." He got up, eagerly showing me the battery compartment. "Your dolls have been modified to act as radios. Whenever you have a question for someone on the team, act like you're praying to mom and dad and ask them the question."

"That's sick," I whimpered.

Xavier bowed his head. "I'm sorry. As much as you may hate it, this is perfect camouflage for the operation."

He pulled off the dolls' outfits, showing me their brass eagle bolo ties attached firmly to the stiff fabric. The clasps functioned like an on/off knob on a radio. "Just click it when you want to communicate with us. All communications are recorded, so it doubles as a surveillance device."

"What if I'm in a parking garage? Or a cave?"

He laughed as he put the little outfits back on the dolls. "Our devices have become slightly more advanced than the mobile phones that you're used to. We have methods for bypassing all that."

I stared at the motionless plastic likenesses of my dead parents. The more I looked at their faces, the angrier I got.

I clenched my fists, glaring at Weyland.

 _He_ was the one who put me in this experiment.

 _He_ killed my parents. _My friends._

"I want to hurt him," I whispered to Pillow.

She sighed. "I know, _foqipi_. But that is not our Lord's way. Jesus teaches us to forgive our enemies."

"How do you do it?" I sobbed.

"Love can be a form of revenge. The bible says it is like heaping burning coals on your enemy's head."

Ippi sneered at this comment, adding her own from a different source. "Humble yourself before God and be exalted. _Humble yourself before men, and be rode roughshod._ "

"What's that supposed to mean?" Pillow asked.

"Kreah pumckocik? Fanesik peebkar bea woxna cutsulz kai calabla brijorugo elebo bea vipbojob." She made a stabbing gesture with her hand.

Pillow made a noncommittal growly dog noise in response.

Xavier waved his phone over me, and I heard a short orchestral chord, like someone powering up a computer. The glowing dots on my arm flickered green and disappeared.

"What's that?"

"I just activated your Afexun account."

"I don't understand. Who would be on it? Josh? David?...Ernie?"

Xavier shook his head.

Weyland sat up. "Remember how I told you there were other Ripleys? Ones that passed the exam and moved on to boarding school? I have a thespian clone who will be doing your self absorbed monologues in front of a green screen."

I scowled at him. How could I not be resentful of this? A copy of me got to do _actual art_! Worse, I had a potential avenue for free speech, and I couldn't even use it.

He must have caught my hurt expression, for then he added, " _It's for veracity_. Remember that the nail that sticks out the most is the first to get hammered down."

"We want you to use your Google glass primarily for basic," said Xavier. "Directions. Horoscopes. Viewing suspicious user profiles. _Buying things._ "

"The algorithm is still in place," Weyland said. "That will keep you at average level until you manage the hand signals."

"For the time being, ad lib your hand signals at every appropriate opportunity. It will at least give them the illusion that you are normal. Lobe Beta is currently only available to the wealthy ten percent, so it must appear to be manual."

"It's not fair," I said. "Why did _she_ get to be the actress?"

Now Weyland looked annoyed. "Ripley, she's no mere drama queen. She's a _chameleon_. She lied and acted her way out of the barracks and into my office, armed with a loaded shotgun. I had to replace my best synth, and a chair. She's that good."

"So you're talking deception," I sighed.

He nodded. _"She's got it in spades."_

I just shook my head. "Mr. Weyland, why do you have a whole building full of aliens and monsters?"

"Why do you think."

"Scientific research?" I guessed.

He nodded.

"What are you trying to do with them all?"

"An easier question would be `what am I not trying to do.' You understand an animal, you understand your opportunities, what can and cannot be done."

"Right," Ippi said. "And once I get my _opportunity_ , you're going to be a very dead animal."

Weyland looked very indifferent about the threat.

"What are you afraid of, Weyland?" the alien asked.

Surprisingly, he answered her. "What do I fear? Having used up the rest of my life, and not having anything to show for it. Time is a slot machine, and I keep putting in quarters. What if I reach the end and wind up with nothing?

"That's why I'm not frightened of you, Ms. Snarken. If you had possessed enough intelligence to truly frighten me, you wouldn't have been rotting in that cell for five years."

She gave him the finger. "Babogatten woxna!" she spat. "If hell does not exist, I will build one for you, just so I can put you there!"

Weyland just rolled his eyes.

Kamara led me to an open seat next to the man. I grudgingly accepted.

"All right," Preston said. "Everyone's here. Can we begin before this thing causes more damage?"

Weyland's whole manner reminded me of that scene from Scarface where the central character sees the ATF agents creeping into his villa through the security cameras, and knows it's all over. He didn't speak, he just pointed to Xavier.

The bald guy got up, put the image of the Land Speeder's undercarriage on the screen. It looked like the Incredible Hulk had punched the metal out of its frame, the floor paneling in one of the cars bowed outwards and skewed at an angle, the edges wrinkled.

"Sil bypassed our little security checkpoint by hiding underneath one of the cars and slipping out into the crowd."

"Nobody noticed her tearing up the floor?" Laura asked.

Xavier shook his head in frustration. "The floor was in a restroom, and she's not on Afexun." He sighed. "If only we had checked the security feeds more carefully."

As he mentioned this, Pillow crept into the corner, she and Ippi exchanging uncomfortable glances, like she had made a secret agreement about something, and didn't regret it.

Weyland appeared to miss this subtle exchange completely, directing his comments were directed to Xavier. "Twenty twenty hindsight," he groaned, rubbing his forehead.

"And who was in charge of this little operation?" Zack challenged.

"You are unwell, Michael" Xavier said. "Perhaps I should take the reigns on this one. At least, _until you're feeling better._ "

"You're the one that got us into this mess to begin with," Weyland said.

Before he could say more, Xavier blurted, "Which is why I want to take control of the mission. I am the Frankenstein that created her, so I should be the one who brings her down. I know the most about the creature, its biology and limitations. I will not fail you."

"Are you willing to stake your life on that?"

Xavier swallowed and nodded.

Weyland leaned over the table, pressed his elbows on the glass as he stroked his temples. He froze, and seemed to stay this way forever.

"Sir?" Xavier prompted.

At last Weyland spoke. "You're the one that let this thing escape. What makes you think I can trust you to put it down? You're too attached to your work, Xave."

"And with your present medical condition, you're in no condition to lead." Xavier cleared his throat. " _With all due respect, sir._ "

"What about that Yutani guy?" Zack suggested. "I heard about his little massacre on Fury 161."

"Those men are occupied with other projects right now, Mr. Bottomiller. Our only free agents are in deep space. It would take more than six months for them to get back here." He just let that last sentence hang.

"What about all those guys you had back at the place?"

When Weyland gave him a blank look, Zack prompted, "Fantasy Island?"

"If they were any good, Sil would still be in there, not running around attacking people."

"How did she get into...that first train anyway?" I asked.

"Immediately following your fight in the jungle, she boarded the storage car of the Cortador. We found the dead body of a homeless drifter inside."

Xavier flashed a grisly photograph of a dismembered human being on the screen. A narrow bearded man in jeans and a t-shirt, twentieth century style. A bloodstained pocket New Testament had been tossed carelessly into his lap.

"We don't think this was an intentional attempt to incite hostilities between the Homeschoolers and regular Americans."

"She's _curious_ about things," Smithson said.

 _"It would have created an incident,_ " said Weyland. "We had to quarantine the entire car, send in people with ABC gear, and clean up the whole area. The cover story is that Al Buraq placed a biological agent in the car. The body, of course, was incinerated."

" _Of course_ ," Pillow scoffed.

Ippi appeared to feign a coughing fit.

"So what's the plan, chief?" Preston asked. "We've got a whole lot of ground to cover, and not a lot of time."

Weyland clutched the side of his head. " _You don't know the half of it._ "

He staggered to his feet, leaning on the glass table.

A moment later, he was on the floor, convulsing uncontrollably.

Pillow rushed to the man's side, then shook her head when she observed what was happening. "It's the cancer. I wish I could do something, but your people haven't progressed past cutting open skulls, hacking away tissue, and sticking electronics in the brain tissue. We really need a Qonrumib 370."

"Not happening," Ippi said. "You can keep your pet human with his fake Abreya cock, but this one dies."

"I believe in loving my enemies," Pillow said.

"You do that. _But he stays here._ We don't need his kind on Pathilon."

"I've seen the medical devices on your craft," Xavier said. "Are you certain you couldn't use that equipment to perform the necessary operation?"

Pillow made a guinea pig sound that sounded like a no. "Even if I did, I haven't done a brain surgery since Durzola, twenty years ago." She got blank looks in response. " _It's a school._ "

She cleared room for Weyland to convulse. "Has he been taking his medication?"

"Occasionally. He doesn't like to, because it makes him sleepy. Can _those devices_ , hypothetically, operate on a human brain?"

Pillow made a bewildered guinea pig grunt. "Only if there were a foreign object stuck in it. We have _machines_ for more brain specific operations, but not on my ship. When someone has a problem like this on a mission, the normal procedure is to just put them in stasis and shuttle them to the medical station in Iquansa."

"I know it's asking a lot, but...can you?"

"No," Ippi said.

"My ship got wrecked on Fiorina 161," Pillow agreed. "I don't know where they're hiding it, and even if I did, I don't even know if it can fly."

Ippi gnawed on her lower lip with her buckteeth, narrowing her eyes like she knew something and wasn't telling. "That's right. We have no mechanical skills."

She locked eyes with Pillow. " _Abukos gikwi kolaputeb con nar!_ "

Pillow looked pleadingly at her fellow Abreya. "Ippi, narwi riko coz human popsicle. Narsnaa xoc aaberahu. Narwi coz yigux bea human moqo _Planet of the Apes_."

"Gigac debasan ladhara moqo gojibis," Ippi protested.

"Many have died," Pillow said. "He is only one man."

Ippi put her hands on her hips, her tail doing angry cat snaps behind her. "You are insane."

Pillow's face flushed blue, perhaps because she was caught in a lie. "The ship is still broken."

" _I have heard that repairs have been made,_ " Xavier said. "We have the nation's best _engineers._ "

"Lovely. But I'm not going to place my life in the hands of a bunch of ignorant savages who don't know a Kaimaxac from a hole in the ground. _Six months_ to bring people in from the edge of your solar system? _Please!_ "

"Wait! How did you-"

Zack gave him a knowing shrug.

The seizures stopped. Weyland wiped the foam away from his mouth and sat up. "How long was I out?"

Pillow sighed, pushing him back on the floor. "You need rest. Mr. Fitch had a good idea. I think someone _should_ take over the operation. At least for a little while. Is there a...hospital or something we can fly you to?...So you can get the kind of treatment you need?"

"They can't help me. No doctors."

Xavier nodded to one of the guards. "Eleven, take Mr. Weyland to Johns Hopkins."

Eleven remained motionless.

"Your father is dying, Eleven. What I am ordering is in the best interests Michael and the company."

The clone flinched, stepped forward.

"Michael," Xavier urged. "There was a reason why I worked for you for so long without pay, and it wasn't to get established in the company to apply for grants. I respected you as a scientist. I admired your genius. You were a man I felt I could look up to. Despite our recent disagreements, I still consider you my friend. Which is why I want you to stop playing Captain Ahab and get medical treatment."

"What do you think I've been doing for the last two years? Viral injections only slowed the cancer. They couldn't do any more or risk killing me."

"Then try something else."

"Experimental therapies? You sound less like a friend than a sycophant trying to maneuver his way into my office."

Xavier sighed in exasperation. "Then get some rest at least! Go see your sister's kids. _Go yachting._ You're pushing yourself too hard, Mike. Don't work your way into an early grave."

"So, what, I'm supposed to leave it all in your incompetent hands?"

"Mike, _I know my place_. I'm just trying to do what's best for you."

Weyland's hand clamped on Xavier's shirt collar. "Do me a favor. _Don't._ "

"I know I'm not next in line for command of this company. You have Yutani and others. I'm just asking for a chance for redemption. Don't think of this as a mutiny. Think of it as a _brief vacation_ , until you're feeling better."

"It's cancer. I'm never going to feel better."

"Still, you're not giving your body an opportunity to fight it." He took out a phone, pushing buttons.

"What are you doing?" Weyland cried in alarm.

"I'm going over your head. Mr. Yutani will agree that you're in no condition to continue this operation."

"Mr. Fitch," Weyland said. "Are you willing to stake your life on the completion of this mission?"

I could see Xavier's Adam's apple bobbling in response. "Yes sir."

" _I'm going to hold you to those words._ "

With that, he gestured for his cloned soldiers to escort him out.


	21. Chapter 21: Crash

DOCUMENT ID #000810020257204: "Diary of Pillow Barnes"

* * *

[0000]

Weyland's men set up a security checkpoint at the monorail station, but Sil had eluded it. At first, I thought this were mere ineptitude, but then, as the meeting proceeded, and we talked strategy, the man began to get headaches and a seizure.

My people have the technology to treat brain cancer, but it's such a rarity that we don't have tools for it among the standard medical equipment onboard my spaceship, even if I could get to it.

I might be able to _excise_ a tumor, but that was about it.

I met up with Ellie again. She was really happy to see me again.

The poor girl. From what I hear, they raised her in a simulated Homeschooler environment. To be thrown into such an excessively liberal society must have been a shock, especially considering how she almost died trying to stop our refugee.

I wanted to stay and help her out, give her some much needed comfort in her time of great loss, but Weyland said he had need of me, that the Iberet's medical equipment had been flown to his summer beach house, and if he had an episode while at his niece's, I was to operate on his brain. This he told me as his guards escorted me out.

"Have you ever been on a yacht?" he asked me.

"No," I said.

"You'll love it. The clean salt water, the sun, the aquatic life...we're on the edge of the Pacific oceanic preserve. It's absolutely beautiful. Our boat has a glass bottom. We might even scuba dive."

"Sounds like fun. It would be more fun with my husband and the rest of my family, and not being under guard all the time...but fun."

"I'm glad you agree, Ms. Pulsa. As for as your card restriction, I have restored your security access."

"Thank you, sir. I promise I'll never touch Jen-Jen again."

"I'm sure you won't. But, more importantly, I'm certain you will never again _hack into my computer system and disable important monitoring equipment._ "

"What!" I cried. "Who told you I did that!"

"It's not important. The evidence is on your computer. Do something like that to me again, and I will make your life _very unpleasant._ "

My life was already unpleasant, but I didn't mention this to him because I knew what he'd say. My head whirled with hate, suspicion and fear as we took the elevator back to the roof.

Did Big Bird lie? Was that a part of her programming now? Or did someone hack into her brain and access the memories? Did she tattle under duress?

What if I accuse her, and it wasn't her at all?

Was it Old Lady Gaga? Jen-Jen? Jennifer always had it out for me, but we were never close enough for her to spy. Unless she got into my room while I was away.

Maybe it was neither, and Weyland just happened to be smart enough to trace my computer hacking back to me. There _were_ cameras in my room...

"What about Laura?" I asked the man. "What about the project we were working on, to stop Sil?"

"She can always video conference you if she has a question."

And then we were back on the plane.

We never made it to our destination.

[0000[

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611501

Personal Diary of Subject 78453760 ("Ernie")

* * *

[0000]

The flaming wreckage of Weyland's airbus lay scattered in a thousand pieces along the jungle floor. My body ached from several cracks along my exoskeleton as I crawled out from under the chunk of metal and bulletproof glass that once served as my cell door.

I gasped for breath, examining my surroundings in bewilderment.

We had crashed somewhere in the Amazon jungle.

The first thing that came to mind were the lyrics to _I'm Free_ by The Who.

The second was, _`I was born in the year 1632, in the city of York, of a good family...'_ a grin coming to my face as I imagined myself adapting the free and rustic life of Mr. Crusoe.

We'd crashed amidst several large palms, possibly a rubber tree, our airborne jail now nothing but a series of collapsed metal boxes with jagged shards of metal sticking out everywhere. A single cell door stood erect in the dirt, reminding me of a scene from Kubrick's _2001_.

My paintings and their associated supplies were ruined, the paper ripped and dirty when it wasn't on fire.

My sewing supplies and finished projects, however, had been safely nestled in a little craft cabinet. A little washing and they'd be good as new.

My bible also happened to be in good condition, as was my MP3 player. All this I could assess in a matter of seconds with my infrared vision.

With that little bit of selfishness aside, I immediately set about sifting through the debris for survivors.

Weyland's guards had died, his androids out of commission.

It was dark, so regular vision was of no use whatsoever. In a way, it made things simpler, because, in infrared, any survivors would appear as a red blob in a sea of blue. Well, when I wasn't seeing monkeys or getting blinded by the fires of burning airplane parts.

One wing of the the airbus stuck out of the side of a detached section of fuselage like the fin of a half submerged drunken whale, the other wing buried in dirt. The rest of the plane lay elsewhere.

I found Golic squatting before a fire, his clothing ragged and bloodstained, arms and legs bandaged with scraps of cloth, looking generally disheveled as he roasted a chunk of meat on a stick.

Upon second glance, I noticed the meat was a human forearm with a hand still attached.

The man bowed in obeisance when he saw me, a difficult task indeed with his leg in a splint. "My Lord! How good is it for you to be here!"

He offered me the roasted human limb. "Please accept this humble offering. Sit down and enjoy."

When I refused his offering, he looked disappointed. "May it not displease my Lord if I eat the sacrificial offering?"

"Did you kill someone to get it?"

"No," he said. _"Should I have?"_

"No."

He looked very pleased now. "It was a _test_! Oh my Lord Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik! We have indeed arrived in the land of milk and honey!"

He spread his arms to encompass all that surrounded us. "Behold your heavenly kingdom on earth! I give it all to you, only let me sit by your right hand as you establish your rule in this great kingdom."

I rubbed my face in annoyance. "I was better off in my cell."

I departed from this grisly repast to search for the others, but as I did this, I noticed the man hobbling after me, one armpit propped up by a crutch he must have somehow dug out of the destroyed infirmary...wherever it was.

He followed close behind me with a torch made from a rag and a stick of dry wood. It seemed, for all intents and purposes, I would be Mr. Crusoe, and Golic would be my man Friday.

I heard a yelp of terror as I approached a fire along a broken piece of airplane wall.

Mrs. Barnes had been nervously staring into the flame from the comfort of a broken passenger seat, clutching her babies protectively. When she saw me emerge from the dark, every hair on her body appeared to stand up at once, making her look like a giant puff ball.

"My apologies," I said. "It is only I."

"Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik!" she sighed in relief.

"Any news about my new niece?" I asked.

She had briefly mentioned this mysterious stranger during our flight.

"I'm sorry, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik. I don't know where to begin looking."

"I still don't understand. How did we wreck? How did all of this happen?"

She gave me an incredulous look. "You mean you don't know?"

"How could I? I was in my cell the whole time!"

"It was Zack and Ippi," she said. "They broke into the cockpit."

"That sounds like an impossible feat. How did they manage to do it?"

"Long story. I'll tell you tomorrow. Right now we need to find shelter for the night."

I nodded. "You're right. Might I suggest using the debris for that end? I believe a rough lean-to can be constructed from some of these walls..."

"Would you mind helping?"

I shook my head. "I must find out if anyone else survived. I will come back to assist you later."

I glanced at Golic. "Actually, my loyal servant will gladly assist you with your shelter, won't you, Golic?"

"Anything which pleases you, my Lord Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik."

" _Lord Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik?_ " Pillow cried.

"He is quite committed to his own particular brand of religion. I do not quite know how to correct this foolishness."

"The foolishness of Shasharmazorb is greater than the wisdom of men," he said.

"He has this all thought out," I said. "He has had _ages_ to think about it, apparently."

We both started when a Ss'sik'chtokiwij larva scampered up to us.

"Hello Pillow!"

"Lacethanny!" the Abreya cried. "Don't scare me like that!"

"Pillow can't see in the dark," I explained.

"Not well," she agreed.

The larva crawled up on my shoulder plates. "Whatcha doing?"

"Looking for survivors. Seen any?"

She pointed a claw at the treetops. "There's one above you."

I looked up and saw a humanoid figure with a tail clambering through the branches. "It's Sharad."

"Sharad!" Pillow shouted. "What are you doing up there!"

The Abreya youth shined a flashlight down at her, then illuminated a strong looking bough high above us. "Oh please, mother! _That human...dad_ , he's made a _ludiho_ out of you!"

"What's a ludiho?" I asked.

"It means `groundling.'"

She turned her head upwards again. "Mommy's pregnant, honey! She's not going to climb up there!"

"That didn't stop my aunt Bruna!"

Pillow sighed. " _All right!_ I'll be up there in a minute!"

She gave me an apologetic look. "You'll have to excuse me, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik. This family time is _way_ overdue!"

"I am happy for you," I said with a slight sob. "I'll come back to check on you later."

I watched as the female placed her young up on her back, their little hands instinctively clutching her backside and tail as she scaled the sheer palm tree that led to her adopted daughter.

"Should I begin building the shelter, my Lord?" Golic asked.

I shook my head. "I believe that tree will do nicely."

The two of us walked in expanding circles around the crushed prison area, searching for survivors.

I found the smashed up cargo hold right away. The supplies had been scattered all over the place, guns, ammo, sealed crates of food, metal suitcases with biohazard stickers, backup first aid supplies. Golic said he got his crutch from there.

I found a Korean stewardess lying unconscious with her legs pinned beneath a heavy shipping container. Judging from her heat signature, she wasn't dead. In fact, I could see her chest rising and falling quite calmly.

The name tag said Bo Young. Blood dripped from the ripped shoulder of her tight blue uniform, but it appeared to be a surface wound. The situation below seemed far more life threatening.

The crate had hit the woman directly below her tiny black skirt, pulverizing her legs so completely that it seemed to be a lost cause. Since the worst damage had already been done, I and Golic worked to roll the container off her.

To our surprise, her legs sprayed milky white fluid and sparked like something electronic.

The woman's narrow eyelids snapped open, her pupils contracting in fear.

She let out a scream, then, to our complete and utter surprise, unhooked the broken legs from her body like were mere boots, crawling away from us on a pair of octopus-like lower appendages, apparently _her actual legs_.

I stared speechlessly as she vanished into the dark.

The crash must have occurred at a strange angle. The staircases had been flung quite a distance from the rest of the plane. The first one I saw stuck out of the ground like a corkscrew in a wine cork.

We passed through a demolished `first class' passenger section with its damaged seats, bent overhead bins, and broken tray tables, arriving at the remains of the meeting room.

I found Jen-Jen trapped under a long table in the center of the area. Jagged shards of metal projected from the carpeting all around her, but none of them touched her body, as if she had been protected by something otherworldly.

The shattered monitors and wall panels had missed her completely, the shell with its vertical stabilizer falling outside the collapsed structure.

Emergency lights from a nearby chunk of airframe provided illumination, apparently running on its own power source.

The woman didn't seem to be in peril, she just didn't have the strength to lift the table. In her defense, a chunk of ceiling _had_ fallen on top of it, but someone a little more muscular probably could have pushed it right off.

She stared up at us like an indignant queen catching sight of her royal subjects loafing about. "Hey! You two! _Get me out!_ "

I stepped forward to do just that, but Golic rushed ahead of me, slapping the woman in the face. "Impudent female! How dare you address the offspring of _God_ with such disrespect! Beg _mercy_ from our Lord Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, and _maybe_ she will forgive you of this most heinous indiscretion!"

"I bow to no man. _Or alien monster. You should free me because otherwise you're never going to get out of this jungle._ "

"Although I desire no such worship," I said. "What makes you think I wish to leave? I believe I shall enjoy myself immensely in this secluded place. I can _go_ anywhere I want, _do_ whatever I want...I am, overall, _quite content!_ "

Jen-Jen attempted ineffectively to push the table off her body.

"You're not going to get away with this! I'm going to die, and someone's going to come looking for me, and they'll kill you all!"

"She overvalues her position in the company, my Lord," Golic said.

"You look perfectly fine to me," I told her. "I'll come back to you a little later. My companion may have overreacted to your disrespectful tones, but that is of little concern to me. Far more troubling are your comments about _summoning aid_. Right now, I'm more free than I have ever been in my entire life. I can work with my claws and dwell in an earthly paradise, free from prejudice or fear of torturous imprisonment."

"What about the girl?" Jen-Jen demanded.

"Ellie knows the Lord," I said. "I am content in this. If the Lord has brought her to her before, he shall do so again, if he so wishes."

"I was referring to _Sil_. She's still out there, killing people."

"No one ever asked me to interfere. And I had no method of escape, so I had no hope to provide any assistance to that end. I do not see why this is different. It is a _long way_ to America. I doubt I can swim that far."

"What about your grandma? What about your friend Newt?"

I frowned. "As previously stated, you are fine, I shall return to you. I shall consider your words as I assist survivors with more pressing impairments, pardon the pun."

"I thought we were friends," she groaned.

" _We are._ Which is why I must retreat for awhile in prayer. I will not abandon you for long. I shall return later on tonight, when I have finished my search."

As we departed, I heard Golic muttering to the woman, "Beware of snakes."

The executive level of the plane lay smashed along a hillside near the second staircase. I pushed through a wall of creepers and immediately found a gun pointing in my face.

Mr. Weyland, it seemed, had survived.

Although he stood with one arm in a sling, he seemed otherwise unhurt, standing on two perfectly operational legs. The night vision goggles explained why he could see me in the darkness. "Hello, Ernie. If you're looking for a _midnight snack_ , I suggest you turn around and go back the way you came."

I attempted to do just that, but the man followed me, clicking back the hammer of his gun. "You know I can't allow your kind to _breed_ here, don't you?"

"Sir," I answered with raised arms. "Throughout my time of unjust imprisonment in your facility, did I once raise a claw to injure any one of your staff members, _or_ attempt to lay eggs in their bodies?"

He pressed the gun to my dome. "Perhaps, _but I can't afford to take risks._ I must apologize in advance, but we have other specimens of your kind. Since, in our current situation, you cannot be restrained, I'm afraid I can see no alternative."

"Iyya Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik!" Golic screeched, ramming the burning end of his torch into Weyland's chest.


	22. Chapter 22: Hunt

The moment Golic moved in with his torch, I dropped to the ground, so the bullet only grazed my shell.

Weyland screamed as his shirt burst into flame, on the whole behaving rather stupidly, out of surprise.

Not caring to see how he would solve this particular dilemma with a gun in his hands, I fled the scene in a hurry.

"Wait, master!" Golic shouted, desperately hobbling up to catch me. "Wait for me!"

The nose and cockpit of the plane lay somewhat south of the debris field, hidden among the ferns. A bearded man in his underwear lay among the foliage with a piece of airplane protruding from his lungs, obviously quite dead. The cockpit itself was empty, save for a yellow tophat and a playing card.

We circled the wreck a few more times, but found no other survivors.

I checked with Jen-Jen again, and, upon seeing her no worse for wear, handed her a water bottle and a package of crackers I had found in a storage bin. I saw no snakes, though she complained about beetles and mosquitoes crawling up her legs.

I had no hopes of finding the cold storage area they kept my niece inside, at least until daybreak, so I returned back to the palm I'd seen Pillow climbing an hour before.

A very picturesque family moment, a mother embracing her two babies and older child in a makeshift treetop nest lined with blankets and airplane seat cushions, all nuzzled together in blissful slumber.

Taking care not to disturb them,, I scaled the tree, quietly positioning myself into a comfortable spot on a nearby branch.

"Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik," I heard Pillow groaning.

"I apologize for interrupting your sleep," I said.

"It's okay. I'm not much for traditional Abreya camping."

I smiled. "Perhaps it's time for that long story now."

[00000]

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000810020257204: "Diary of Pillow Barnes"

(Translated to English from Ixzedle)

* * *

[0000]

Mr. Weyland had a private bedroom in the top of the airbus, which held, in addition to a bed, a home theater system, cabinets full of both medicine and liquor, a machine that looked like a human style cryogenics tank, a medical assistance device that you climbed inside when you needed surgery or medical scans. A label on the side said it did MRI readings, EEG, and any other brain scanning human technology was capable of.

As the turbines started up, the man immediately laid down in his posh memory foam bed, activating a light and sound display attached to the ceiling.

Slow New Age electronic music pulsed through the speakers, interspersed with whale song and bits of classical music. I slumped into an office chair by the bed, listening politely as I could, watching the patterns of clouds and lazy schools of fish cycling through the ceiling monitors.

A hypnotic voice came on, droning in Transcendental Meditation speak. I could only tolerate listening for about a minute or so before I felt the urge to jump up and do something else. "Sir, what is going to happen to those _intelligent beings_ you have locked up in the hold? I'm assuming you brought them for a _purpose..._ "

"The opening moves to any chess game involve the positioning of _pawns_ , Ms. Pulsa. Ideally, most of your good moves are done with them. The opponent overreacts, leaving themselves open for a counter-move with a heavier piece. A _bishop_ or a _rook_ , perhaps."

"So we're all pawns in your game."

" _It is what it is_. Perhaps I should have used an analogy from football instead."

I sighed. I didn't really want the man exerting himself too much in his current medical state, but I felt I had to say something about the situation, as it didn't make much sense.

"And you can move these `bigger pieces' into position from your niece's house?"

He frowned. "No, I intend to land the plane at a nearby aircraft carrier for refueling, and send it to the base nearest our quarry. If there are any _new developments_ _regarding your_ ship _and your alien doctors,_ I have a smaller private jet that can bring us back to the island."

I shook my head. "I just don't think the Iberet is ready for another flight."

"You haven't even been allowed near it. How do you know it's not operational?"

"Your people are so _backwards_. It's like the Beverly Hillbillies are running the space program. Your ships take centuries to get where the Iberet can go in a few weeks. If your people `fixed' our engines, I shudder how long it will take us just to get to Domopri, and that's if we're lucky enough to not have a loose panel and burn up in the atmosphere."

"I overheard your conversation with Ms. Snarken. From what I could understand, you seemed to favor me as a human Popsicle."

I sighed. "Ippi would just as soon jettison you into space than take you somewhere to be healed. Where is she, anyway?"

"Down below. I couldn't afford to have her running loose in Texas."

"It's not safe to have her anywhere."

"Would you suggest I kill her?"

I paled. "I didn't mean _that!_ "

"We could put her in lockdown. Take the craft into space ourselves. Without her."

I frowned. "She's far too clever. _She'd find a way out._ "

Weyland breathed a heavy sigh of disappointment, gazing back up at the display.

I kept thinking about Jen-Jen with my babies. How she'd more than likely been with them throughout the entire meeting, how she might be busy poisoning them against me while we listened to this ridiculous TM recording.

"Would you mind terribly if I went down to check on the children for a few moments?"

He gave me a dismissive wave. "I'll page you if I need something."

I nodded. " _Umuacik_. Thank you. I'll check back on you periodically, just to make sure you're all right."

He handed me a small device, square and thin as a CD jewel case, activating a camera view of his room on the tiny screen. "Here. Just keep tabs on me with this."

I took it and marched downstairs.

The plane was eerily quiet. First class had no visible passengers. Deprived of the usual buzz of conversation, one could hear the plane's every creak.

There were guards and androids, but nobody spoke. The humans just checked their computer devices or read.

I found the petite Korean stewardess passed out in one of the seats, her legs bent at unnatural angles that belied double jointedness. I left Ms. Young where she was, creeping down into the prison.

Not counting my babies, I saw only four occupants in the cells now. Golic, Ernie, Lacethanny and Sharad.

I saw no sign of Ippi Snarken for some reason, but I knew her to be clever.

I tried my key on Sharad's door, but it still wouldn't unlock.

"Weyland restored your access," Jen-Jen said behind me. "But it never included her."

My fur stood straight up.

"Calm down," she said. "Jesus, you're just like my cat."

Upon hearing her voice, Quana gurgled and reached for her. "Jen-Jen!"

"That's right," Jennifer cooed as she came closer. "I'm Jen-Jen."

I glared at her as she played with my baby's hand.

"So," I snapped. " _Where are_ these so-called children of yours? I never see them with you!"

"I sold them to the government for child support."

"So you steal mine away to fill the void in your own life."

I believe I struck a nerve, for then her face turned red, her eyes fixing me with a look of pure malice. "You know, I could take yours away from you any time I wanted. I was just trying to be nice and allow them to grow up in a semi-normal Abreya environment!"

"I suggest you try harder. The truth hurts, doesn't it?"

She just gave me a dirty look.

I returned my attention to Sharad. "She's just a girl. She's not a threat to anyone."

"She's not a girl, she's an _alien._ You haven't seen her on the gun rage, or in combat practice. She's _broken_ _bones._ "

I watched Sharad playing a _Legend of Zelda_ game, one of those complicated 3D ones my husband liked. "I see you're at least improving the situation by letting her play less violent games."

"Less violent, maybe. But those games involve a _lot_ of fast reflexes and hand-eye coordination. A lot of military skill and problem solving. Every level involves sneaking past an enemy, or using strategy to kill one. You can't slouch like you do in some other games. Also, the hero fights for his country."

"She's seriously broken bones?"

"She _has_ , but she feels too sorry about it. We're trying to fix that."

I flushed blue with anger. "Do me a favor. _Don't!_ "

Sharad paused her game. "I sent Whiskey and Golf to the infirmary. I still feel like a mean jerk." She stared at the floor, looking depressed. "They were beating me up and calling me a freak. I know Jesus wouldn't do that, but...it was too hard. I got mad."

"Whiskey and Golf?" I said with skepticism.

"They're _clones_ ," Jen-Jen said. "They're all named after the NATO alphabet. When one dies, we give them the name of the one they're replacing."

Sharad burst into tears. "I never saw them again! Echo and Charlie told me they didn't take them to the infirmary at all. They said they i _ncinerated them both_ , _because they were too weak._ "

"I tried to tell her we use them for drug testing first...You don't just throw away a good clone." Jen-Jen said this so matter-of-factly that I wondered if she were trying to goad me on purpose. I wanted to punch her in the nose.

I whispered Wava prayers for God to forgive my hatred.

All of a sudden, I saw Jen-Jen's eyes bulging out of her head, her jaw dropping in surprise as she looked out the window.

"Why are we going south?"

She pushed the intercom button. "Mr. McGuiness! Why are we turning around?"

The reply came back muffled and growly sounding, like the pilot had a severe cold. In fact, no useful content could be discerned out of it whatsoever.

Jen-Jen pushed the button again. "I'm sorry, Mr. G. I didn't get any of that. _Why_ are we turning around."

"I said we're _not_!" the voice sounded oddly low and throaty. " _We're only cutting across the ocean a bit._ "

The woman's eyes narrowed in apparent suspicion, but she didn't voice her thoughts.

She paged Weyland. "Sir, why are we going south?"

A long silence answered her.

"Mr. Weyland?"

"I wouldn't worry about that," he said at last. "The pilot knows what he's doing."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

The man made no reply.

I checked his room with the little monitor. He wasn't there.

I hurried upstairs, checking first in the infirmary, then the deluxe executive cabin near the upper front end of the plane.

Seeing no sign of him there, I descended a staircase and found him calmly sipping tea in first class, chatting with Mr. Yutani, the latter apparently having been hiding in the meeting room the whole time with his business work.

The moment my feet hit the carpet at the foot of the stairs, I noticed something off about the stewardess approaching with her serving cart.

The woman pressed a button on her wristwatch, and Weyland's androids collapsed inert on the floor.

Mr. Yutani jumped to his feet a split second after the female pulled a coil of silver wire taut around his companion's throat.

Mr. Weyland stoically sipped his tea, acting as if an alien weren't trying to strangle him to death.

"Can the act, Weyland!" she snarled. "I know you're not a droid!"

"I'm ready to die. Are you?"

Yutani drew a gun, but Weyland held up a staying hand. "Tranquilizers only, please."

Yutani put the gun away, yelling to the guards. "You heard the man! _Tranqs!"_

One of the men fired, but Ippi dodged at the last second, the point embedding in a nearby seat. She tightened the wire.

Weyland set his cup on a tray table, then grabbed the garrote, using a martial arts technique to hurl her over the seat. The cup fell off the tray and shattered, tea spilling all over the carpet.

The man then peeled off a layer of artificial skin around his neck. "Spider silk Kevlar and flex steel. _Thought it might come in handy._ "

"Thanks for exposing your throat!" The female knocked Weyland into the aisle, raising a pair of sharp scissors.

Yutani tackled her, sending her sprawling between a row of seats. The serving cart toppled over, spilling water bottles, snacks and cans of soda everywhere.

Ippi rolled Yutani on his back, brought the scissors up to pierce the man's neck, but it was only a distraction. Her tail yanked the pistol out of Yutani's holster at the same time he busied himself with blocking the silver blades.

She struck him with the butt of the gun, leapt to her feet, cocking the hammer as she aimed for Weyland's head.

"Shoot her!" Yutani yelled.

"I wouldn't," Ippi said. _"It could get quite messy."_

Weyland cracked open a water bottle. " _I'm dead already._ I wouldn't recommend firing, as the cabin will rapidly depressurize. You might experience _an unpleasant falling sensation._ "

As he said this, I noticed Mr. Yutani sneaking up behind Ippi with a switchblade.

The female swept his feet out from under him with her tail.

She pulled the trigger. A bullet ripped through Yutani's head, the carpet, the plane itself.

A second later, I saw a bearded man staggering up the aisle in his underwear. "Someone just stole my uniform!"

"Sir!" Jen-Jen shouted to Weyland as she hurriedly waddled after the stranger. "Hattam's in the cockpit!"

Ippi blew Weyland a kiss and threw down a smoke bomb, disappearing into a purple fog. The men fired darts, but they mostly hit airplane seats.

Weyland uttered swear words, rubbing his face. "A few hours ago, he was talking about how the cockpits of planes are _locked up tighter than a safe._ "

Seeing the coast clear, I approached him. "He's got to come out sometime. He'll have to eat or go to the bathroom."

"Not necessarily. The bathroom is in the cockpit, and food is passed through a slot."

"About that," Jen-Jen gasped as her sluggish body finally reached his row. "We put _sedatives_ in his food."

Weyland swore again. "I always thought I'd die from the _cancer._ "

"You know what they say, sir. You gotta put _something_ on the death certificate."

"Sir," said a male guard with red hair. "There was a lot of smoke, but I got her."

"That's great," Weyland replied. "Where is she now?"

The redhead frowned. "I don't know."

"Attention passengers and crew," Zack's voice said over the intercom. "There's been a slight change of plans. Our regularly scheduled vacation to the Nevada coast has been canceled in favor of (you guessed it!) _Fantasy Island_.

"No offense, Weyland, but Melanie isn't that cute. I admit she's got an ass, but the face is a real turn off. _Those teeth!_ " He whinnied for dramatic effect, imitating hoofbeats with his knuckles on the microphone.

Weyland pushed the talk button. "Not that I'm complaining, but _why._ "

"You got my friend's _ride_ in your garage, and _we're going to take it for a little spin._ "

"I saw your records, Mr. Bottomiller. You don't even know how to fly a plane."

"For a man who has so much access to my personal records, you seem to know next to nothing about my skydiving act in Rio." He yawned loudly, indicating that the sedatives had begun their effect. "Ippi, could you hand me _one of those pills?_ I think I've been (yawn) drugged."

Since we could do nothing else at the moment (we had no key or any other way in to the cockpit), I attended to Weyland. The man seemed fine for the moment, the medical scans showing no changes in the cancer, better or worse.

We were fine for the first couple hours, but then shit started happening.

First, the alarms came on, warning us that the fuel line had been punctured, more than likely from Ippi shooting a hole in the floor.

Then the plane shifted in a sloppy, haphazard way, as if the pilot desperately fought the urges of sleep.

I heard the steady thrum of the laser propulsion engines firing up, but then something outside caught fire, and the whole plane went dark, the turbines falling dead silent.

The massive, once powerful airbus had essentially been converted into a large hang glider, struggling to maintain its height over the Mexican Strait.

The laser propulsion gave one final push, then stopped working all together.

[0000]

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611602 (Ellie's Journal - Cont'd)

* * *

[0000]

When Weyland and his men departed, they took Pillow along with them.

Zack stood up. "I've got to use the bathroom."

"Me too," Ippi said.

Xavier looked like he didn't care, but when the two approached the door, a pair of androids blocked their path.

"Let them go," Xavier sighed. "I don't think I'll have any need of them."

"We have orders not to have them released," said a Mara unit.

"Then take them back to wherever they came from."

"Wait," I said. "Mr. Hattam can do _magic tricks_. He can help me out of binds."

Xavier frowned, sighing through his nose. "We're trying to be as low key about this as possible. Your wall climbing stunt, as necessary as it was, has gained us some unwanted publicity. We had to do some _damage control_ , and you _know_ how nothing truly disappears from the internet.

"You're being pictured next to `Bat Boy Found In Cave.' In fact, I'm afraid we're going to need to give you a slight makeover."

"Your friend _is_ a tad flashy," Laura agreed.

"But what if someone puts me in handcuffs or something, and I need to get out?"

In response, Josh flicked his wrist, making a playing card materialize from seemingly nowhere.

"I believe your young friend has it covered." Xavier cleared his throat. "Of course, he still hasn't changed into his uniform."

The boy reddened. "Why do I have to wear _that thing_? I'll look like a sissy queer!"

"It's the official YME uniform. You're not going to be able to help your friend unless you look the part."

"Watch the Q word," Press said. "You'll get fined for that. Believe it or not, you can even get fined for saying homosexual or homo. They claim it's no different than calling a black man a negro."

" _It's not_ ," Smithson said. _"You don't choose to be black_."

"Still," Laura remarked. "They'll think you're a bigoted Homeschooler, and you'll get fined."

"Even in school?" I asked.

She nodded. "The official term is now `Non-Heterosexual.'"

"Enough about that," Xavier snapped. " _Sil_ is still out there, and she needs to be stopped before any more deaths occur..."

Noticing movement out of the corner of my eye, I turned and saw Big Bird entering the room with a yo-yo, idly performing precise tricks, as only an android could do.

She took Zack's seat at the table, kicking her boots up on the polished surface.

Rolling his eyes, Xavier brought a map up on the screen, a photographic overhead view of the street and the face of a bridal boutique, one filled with dresses and tuxedos for both sexes.

" _Forever Yours_ on Eleventh and Oak street. Sil's black market chip got flagged the moment she attempted to purchase a display dress valued at a quarter of a million dollars."

I furrowed my brow as I realized that, due to inflation, the dress might have actually been less valuable than it sounded.

"Weyland made a call, paying for our girl's expense legitimately through the server, plus extra in exchange for enlisting the clerk's services in pursuit of our quarry. The clerk's body was found in an alleyway just minutes ago."

"Couldn't the clerk have put an RFID in her dress and saved trouble?" Press asked.

Xavier sighed. "Unfortunately, that would have required someone getting there in advance, and providing the man with a tracker. Sil is still on the loose, but we at least have _images_ of her now."

He flashed a picture of the adult I'd seen crawling out of the cocoon. Minus all the blood, she resembled a European supermodel. Romanesque angular features that seemed otherworldly yet completely human. "Although she has matured physically, judging by her recent behavior, she is still mentally a child, but with the instincts of a predator. This makes her both dangerous and unpredictable.

"That being said, she is essentially an _animal,_ which at least gives us a slight clue as to her motive. All animals have three instinctual objectives for survival: Eating, sleeping and reproduction.

"Since Sil has already consumed a considerable amount of food, and requires relatively no sleep whatsoever, we can safely assume that her goal will be obtaining a mate and producing offspring...provided nothing else proves to be sufficiently distracting."

Xavier showed us interior scans of Child Sil's body, pointing to the area between her legs.

"Her sexual apparatus has not been clearly defined. Although she _does_ possess a traditional human uterus, it is purely vestigial."

He highlighted a set of strange looking organs above the uterine area. "We believe these have something to do with reproduction, but their function is still unclear. If I were to make an educated guess, the stinger-like projections encased in these organic sleeves suggest an almost masculine method of chromosome delivery, the wider central, for lack of a better term, _shaft_ , may possibly be some sort of egg delivery system."

 _"So our she is a he?"_ Press asked mockingly.

"Again, we don't know very much about this equipment, or what it does. I have only witnessed it moving slightly during scans of her sleep phase. The fluid samples we took were inconclusive. Still, based on this evidence alone, I have reason to believe that Sill should be prevented from reproducing at all costs."

"Jesus," the assassin breathed. " _I'd say so._ "

Xavier shuffled back to the image of Adult Sil. "We've already placed this photo on several reward bulletin sites, but we can't completely rely upon human greed to capture her. This is why I'm going to need every one of your specialized skills to bring her in."

"Bring her _down_ , you mean."

The look on Xavier's face said he didn't mean that at all. _"If we can find no other method of restraining her._ " He cleared his throat. "Ms. Baker, you will be assisting the team with forensic pathology. We'll take turns perfecting the stabilizing compound in the interim.

"Arden and Smithson, I want you to use your observational skills to assist Press with the hunt.

"Each of you have been given sufficient credit for your day to day necessities and any additional tools you may need for the job."

That's great for them, I thought. They have an existing place in society. _Jobs._ They actually know what they're doing.

"What about me?" I said.

Xavier strode up to me, fixing me with a very intense look. "Your role in this team is quite possibly the most important of all. By that same token, it is also the most dangerous."

He brought out a small plastic first aid kit, opening it up to reveal a set of what appeared to be diabetes injection pens.

"We have synthesized a prototype chemical that can either stabilize Sil or kill her. I'm hoping for the former, but if not, we're doing what needs to be done."

He showed me a little silver dart gun in the side compartment, along with a set of small red bullets that looked like BB pellets. "RFID trackers. You _must_ implant her with at least one before even attempting the injections."

"She's bigger than me," I said. "And stronger."

He put a hand on my shoulder. "Weyland has shown me the footage of your work at the test facility. Those animals were twice your size, yet you managed to dispatch them anyway."

"Each time, I almost died. One of them actually killed me, but I came back. Plus she's an _adult_. _I'm just a kid!_ What if I don't make it?"

His expression became grave. "If you don't make it, it's unlikely that anyone else ever will."

We stared at each other in silence.

Xavier swallowed, lowering his voice. "I've heard that this is a touchy subject, but _there is footage of you killing a grown man in your house with a baseball bat._ "

I paled. _"Someone was recording me?"_

He nodded. "I'm sorry. I've been told that this has been a traumatic, life changing event for you. Rather cruel, actually."

I think he noticed my hurt, angry expression, for then he added, "It wasn't my idea. I wasn't even involved in the project. Weyland instructed me not to tell you. I wouldn't have mentioned it to you at all, had you not expressed a fear of fighting a full grown woman. Our lives are in your hands, so I figure you at least deserve to know the truth."

"Thank you," I sighed. "It still doesn't make me feel better about what I did."

"No, I don't imagine it would." When I looked into his eyes, I could see the sadness in them. "The taking of a life is not something one does on a whim. The fact that you know and understand this truth makes you an even more valuable to me. Good luck and God speed."

We all followed Press down the hallway to the locker area. Since I and Kamara had already equipped ourselves, we waited outside as Josh, Press and the guys disappeared into the men's locker room.

We were alone now, so I asked, "When were you going to tell me that the murder I committed was all recorded on camera?"

Kamara sighed. "Look, Ellie. I had to do what they told me, or I'd lose my family. They said never mention the security cameras, so I didn't."

I sat down next to my suitcase, staring at my dolls. "Is Amy and Jeff all right?"

Kamara shrugged. "I'm not sure. I hear they've been put in another project."

"There you are!" said a voice from a nearby doorway. "I've been looking for you everywhere!"

Caitlyn, now dressed in a YME uniform, came stomping up to me.

She took one look at the doll in my hand and shouted, "So that's your answer? _Family Spirits_? They don't even talk back!"

"That just shows you how little you know about them," Kamara argued.

"She makes fun of me with my father's uploaded consciousness, and she plays with _dolls!_ "

"Wait," I said. "When did I-?"

Kamara raised a hand to hush me. "It takes imagination, and _belief_ , to hear them, but they do talk back, _if you just listen to them_."

Caitlyn looked like she'd just been stabbed by an invisible sword, her face scrunched up, tears flowing down her cheeks. _"Gee, that's great for you,"_ she sobbed bitterly. _"Mine got stolen last year, and my_ mommies _won't pay for another replacement!"_

With that, she ran away.

I got up to follow her, but Kamara blocked me. "Let her go. We don't need NERV players getting in the way of the mission."

I sighed in frustration.

"Besides," she added. "You need to get that _makeover_ taken care of."

Kamara decided to make me a Goth chick.

We found the `beautician' off the left side of the catwalk we'd taken on the way in. The place reminded me of those wardrobe rooms they had in the movie studios I saw on TV, kind of a barber shop with makeup lights and racks of costumes, but they also had a tattooing station.

The employees all looked rather strange and freakish, like extras from the Dauntless clan in those _Divergent_ movies. Bizarre hair, leather clad, tattoos.

An Asian lady led me to one of the chairs, a bald black guy named "M" giving me my makeover.

He dyed my hair black. He washed it, put on some gloves, squished the dye in, down to my roots.

"I guess I won't be showering much after this," I said as he combed it. "Right? Because of the dye?"

M laughed. "Baby, you take as many baths as you want. This shit will _never_ come out, I repeat, _never!_ " He followed this with more laughter, that seemed almost forced. "Child, this stuff, _it sure as shit doesn't come out_ , you know what I'm saying? Not unless you shave your head bald like me." He laughed again.

The man liked to repeat himself like that goose on _Charlotte's Web_ , which kind of annoyed me, but I didn't say this out loud.

As the stuff dried, he took out a makeup kit, applying black eye shadow and mascara and other dark things around my eyes.

"Speaking of things that don't wash out, honey, this shit is permanent too. You can't wash it out, you know what I'm saying? (Fake laugh) You gotta go to a _special clinic_ , girl, just to remove it. They sell LadyVamp 360 with a cleaning chemical, but this is _LV 22_ , girl. _Before they changed the formula, `_ cuz, you know, _it used to be permanent._ Ha ha."

"That's...great," I groaned.

"I guess someone wants you to stay _incognito_ , you know, _so people don't recognize you._ Why anyone would want to be a zombie each and every day after Halloween, I don't know, but _some people like that._ _People also like whips and chains, honey, but I don't. Much._ Ha ha!"

He applied some black permanent lipstick, then reached for a bone white foundation powder.

" _Don't_ ," Kamara said. "I think she'll be fine. Just style her hair."

"As you wish, my queen," M said with another forced guffaw. _"When's your turn?"_

"I'm not doing it."

"Suit yourself, honey. _I offered._ I sure did!"

He spiked my hair, another item that would not come out.

I also received a tattoo, which hurt a lot less than I imagined it would, due to recent developments in dyes and needles.

They marked me with the serpent and flower, of course, but Kamara would be cute if I also got one of that symbol from Vin Diesel's arm, for further veracity. I still don't know what that symbol means, so I guess it was a pretty good choice. I liked it better than the snake, at any rate.

The tattoo artist offered to do some more, but Kamara said I should stop before I tattoo a teddy bear on my butt.

Press and the others had all been waiting patiently for me outside the room in a row of plastic moon chairs. When they saw my new look, they clapped in appreciation and gave me compliments.

Josh got out of his seat and just stood there, staring with his mouth hanging open.

" _Wow._ It's like you're a _different person!_ "

I, in turn, stared at him.

He'd been dressed in a uniform identical to mine. I couldn't help but giggle. "I could say the same thing about _you_. _Nice dress!_ "

He blushed. "Shut up."

None of the others had to change clothing. They still wore the twentieth century style outfits I'd seen them in last.

I asked about it.

" _We're good_ ," Press answered. "These outfits are timeless. _I did my time_ in the YME. It's only _you space cadets_ that need secret identities and costumes."

I frowned. He was absolutely right. I _did_ see people dressed somewhat normally in those crowds.

A black van awaited us at the front entrance, the side doors sliding open automatically as we approached.

The interior resembled a FBI surveillance van, or one of those news trucks TV crews drove around town, full of monitors and recording equipment.

As in the other vehicle, it had no visible steering controls, only a computer and a bunch of unimportant cabin related stuff like A/C and stereo. Swivel chairs, a table for food and drinks, toilet.

Xavier and Arden took the two seats at the monitoring stations near the rear, Smithson, Laura, Press and Kamara sitting up front, around the drink table. Their seats could be turned around to access other monitoring systems.

Big Bird stood in the center, seeming quite comfortable doing so for the duration.

I didn't see any open seats, so I knelt by Kamara's.

Before the door could slide completely shut, Caitlyn came rushing up to the threshold, waving her hand in front of the safety sensor. The door slid back open, and she hopped inside. "Wow! WTF is this?"

"We work for Disney," Press lied. "Piracy Division. We're going to break up a bootlegging ring."

"Tight! Can I K-with?"

"Sorry, kid." Press pointed to her flying drone. " _This is a bug free zone._ You can K-with all you want, but your _thing_ is going to have to stay out."

She frowned. "Why."

"I shouldn't have to explain business recording and copyright laws. You want in? You want to score NERV points? Leave that shit outside."

Caitlyn put on her glasses, dismissing her drone with a complicated hand gesture.

Preston gestured to the floor. "Have a seat."

The door slid shut.

"Look, Caitlyn," I said to her. "You don't need a...scary Voodoo doll to be with your...dad. He doesn't need a doll. He's a _spirit_. Besides..." I didn't know the first thing about her dad, so I couldn't say whether he'd go to hell or heaven. " _There's an afterlife_. He's not going to be stuck in a computer, or in a stupid doll."

"Yeah, _then why do you have two of them?_ "

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I couldn't think of what to say without divulging top secret information.

The van started up, rolling down the street.

"It's for _sentimental value_ ," Kamara said. "She knows that their spirits _only use the dolls occasionally_ , so a lot of times she just kinda talks to them in the air. It's basically the same thing."

I glared at my friend, not at all appreciating her distorted depiction of my spiritual life.

Why would I pray to my parents? I went to _heaven_. It wasn't the kind of place you wanted to leave.

Still, I couldn't very well tell _her_ that, could I?

"I guess you're right," Caitlyn said.

"Has she signed a non-disclosure agreement?" Xavier asked in a stern tone of voice.

"Natch," Caitlynn answered.

Preston rolled his eyes. " _Riight._ Let's see your chip."

He activated a scan program on one of the computers, instructing Caitlyn to wave her hand over it.

The computer bleeped, displaying a screen of text.

Press frowned. "She's only got an L1 security clearance."

Xavier scowled at her. "She looks _tired_. _See to it that she's comfortable in her bunk._ "

"Wait," Caitlyn protested. "I'm not tired at all! What-?"

Her eyes widened in alarm as Press pulled out something that looked like a nicotine patch, slapping it on her arm.

The girl tried to pull it off, but I could see her lids getting heavy the moment it was off.

Caitlyn eased herself onto the floor, curled up in a ball, fell sound asleep.

Press carried her to the bed. He looked so fatherly as he did this that Ms. Baker gave him some not-too-subtle appraising looks, as if she were wondering if they should have children together, _and actually raise them_.

The car had a refrigerator unit, from which Big Bird produced sub sandwiches for each of us. I couldn't remember when I had eaten last, so I scarfed mine down, then ate a second one, along with a bag of chips.

A moment later, the doors slid open in front of Forever Yours wedding boutique.

"All right." Preston climbed out. "Let's see if we can catch ourselves a runaway bride!"

It was dusk. Illuminated signs and electric lights came on in all their garish brilliance. The television kiosks along the sidewalks endlessly poured fourth drivel.

Now that my Afexun account had been activated, the monitors would respond with extremely specific advertisements every time I got near them, a whole library of religious books from Mr. Hampton's ministry that I supposedly needed to be "right with God," the Goth boutique had hundreds of items for me to buy, including dildos and S&M gear, and some of the advertisers went even further, telling me how Josh would love it if I put on their sexy makeup and perfume.

"Just ignore it," Kamara said. "It doesn't affect your stats."

But then she reconsidered. "We'll _get things for you_ if they _do_ affect your stats."

Forever Yours stood at the corner of a block of shops at the bottom of an apartment complex. A gym stood next to it, one where drones and uniformed drill sargents harassed overweight people into working out on machines or doing various kinds of rigorous exercises.

Monitors on the walls constantly updated with images of the fat people paired with insulting cartoon images of pigs, cows, Jabba the Hutt, or cliche fat jokes such as a man unable to get through the kitchen door.

The lights on the people's flabby arms turned green when they did pushups successfully, or lifted weights, turned red when they were at rest. The sight of all this misery was so terrible that I immediately squeezed my stomach to make sure I wouldn't be in there next.

Whenever one of the overweight people collapsed on the floor out of sheer exhaustion and couldn't get back up, a pair of drill sargents would pick them up and subject them to waterboarding, eventually throwing them out on the sidewalk.

The sign on the establishment said "Fatty Fat Camp," but I just called it cruel.

Across the street, a hotel, with a Taco Bell, Pizza Hut Wingstreet, and a regular hotel restaurant on the bottom floor, and next door, a place that said "Final Exit Assisted Suicide". I pointed to the latter item. "What's that for? Euthanasia? Or is it just a name?"

Kamara shook her head. "Their slogan is `The Easier Way Out.' Anyone that wants to die can go there, and the staff _takes care of you_ , literally. It's the only place you can attempt it without getting arrested."

"That's terrible!" I cried. " _And who would even sleep in a hotel next to that?_ "

Kamara had this expression like the concept were crazy, even to her. "I hear there's a few _distractions_ before you reach the final room. A bar, prostitutes, maybe a job offer for something only a suicidal person would be interested in. Only about twenty five percent actually go through with it.

"She's right," Press said. "They get good money, both from the insurance companies and the suicidee themselves. _You know how those people like to give lavish gifts._ "

 _"Insurance?_ Wouldn't that void the terms?"

He shook his head. "The company has a _deal_. They buy the policy out from under the insurance guys before they go bye bye. There's also a kickback for them if the policy holder changes their mind. Ten years of payments is better than only five in one lump."

I stared at him, not believing what I heard, nor understanding how it would even work.

"Uncle Mike likes to hire them for... _interesting tasks_ ," Kamara said. "Don't quote me on this, but I think _your parents_ may have been hired from one of those places."

"But my parents weren't suicidal," I protested.

"How do _you_ know? Did you see them before they had a daughter and a nice house?"

I was speechless.

The `alleyway' at Eleventh and Oak more like a garage, a loading area for supply trucks to enter.

Our victim lay in a twisted heap behind a parked UPS truck, between the back entrance to a Night Forest Daycare and a computerized kiosk you used to sign up for an apartment and pay daily rent. _Daily_ , not monthly...and it looked like the monthly price.

A single police officer stood by the entrance, one platformed heel propped up against the brickwork as he smoked a joint.

When he saw us arrive, he straightened his skirt and marched over to us, not even bothering to conceal his drug usage. "Hurry it up. Amazon wants their truck back. Crime Scene Cleanup is waiting outside."

"Surely you're not done already," Press said. "This didn't happen that long ago."

" _We wrote a report_ ," the cop gruffly replied. "We've got _pictures and video._ What more do you want?"

"For one, your video only recorded the side of this truck," Press said. "Second of all, this isn't your typical homicide."

The cop shrugged. "I'm letting you look at it before we clean up, aren't I?"

Xavier read the case report from his phone. "Edward Pereguino, age 24. Married. Spouse: Kenneth Fortes. Cause of death: Multiple fractures." He frowned at the cop. "That's it?"

"Like I said, _we've got pictures and video._ "

Laura donned a pair of gloves, turning the body over.

The man's head had been wrenched backwards, his arms shattered, with bits of bone sticking out of the skin. "Good God. She bent him up like a Gumbi doll."

With the mustache and glasses, the victim looked like a young, gayer version of Commissioner Gordon from _Batman_. Pink shirt, black tie, black slacks.

"How'd she even get in here?" Arden asked. "Aren't these things supposed to be locked?"

Press showed him a mangled electronic door interface. "She came in through the service entrance."

We stared at the door hanging by a single hinge next to the vehicle entrance.

"What do you think, Mr. Arden?" Xavier asked.

The sociologist took a deep breath. "Sil basically comes from a cultural vacuum. She has no concept of morality, or her place in society. The moment she escaped from your lab, she has had only negative interactions with human beings, giving her a paranoid us-versus-them mentality.

"When she found herself being stalked by this clerk, she probably didn't take it well, which is why she ripped the door open. I think she was trying to hide, but it didn't work."

 _"Fight or flight,"_ Press muttered. "Any ideas where she might be going next?"

"I think she's still interested in pursuing a mate, but, judging by the aggression here, the attempts may have been forceful. A _rape_ , perhaps."

"Statistically, men seldom report rapes when they occur," Laura said as she squatted next to the body, taking close-up pictures. "Especially when it's a woman. In fact, many men _prefer_ an aggressive female. It's a common male fantasy."

"Could have fooled me," I muttered.

"Watch the anti-gay comments," Kamara hissed. "You'll mess up your score."

"I agree about the aggressive females," Press said to Ms. Baker. "But I draw the line at she-males depositing eggs on my person."

"This tells us nothing," Xavier sighed. "We're no closer to Sil than we were before."

Laura got up, removing her gloves. "Oh, _I don't know._ How hard is it to spot a woman running around town in a bloodstained wedding dress?"

She showed us the scalloped indentations in the drying blood.

"Still, we have a lot of ground to cover."

"She's at the nightclub," Smithson said. " _Aftershock._ It's right across the street."

Preston raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? _And how do you know that,_ Mr. Zamboni? _Did a ghost tell you,_ or did you just get a _hunch?"_

"I don't know," he admitted. " _But I see a whole lot of cop cars over there._ "


	23. Chapter 23: Aftershock

As we stared across the street, Caitlyn came marching up to me with her flying drone, looking very alert and angry. "So. ` _Preciate the Z,_ GF. _I got_ _clowned_ , huh? You gonna dope me again, _chica_ , or can I finally _represent_?"

I stared at Caitlyn, and she at me.

"I still don't know how you recognized me," I said.

" _Oh plz_ ," she answered. " _You just uppied your profile pic."_

"Your twin also got a makeover," Kamara whispered in my ear.

Caitlyn gawked at the dead body. "I thought you were chasing bootleggers!"

" _It's complicated_."

Press put on a pair of Google glasses, making a pinching motion in the direction of Caitlyn's drone.

The machine's lights cut out abruptly, its body smashing to the pavement with a noisy crunch.

"You broke my drone!" Caitlyn cried. "I gotta bring a camera along to play NERV!" She was sobbing now, not even bothering to talk in Netpronto. "It's the only chance I've got! I don't have any _friends_ , or _sponsors_ or anything! I'll be _homeless_! They'll drag me to the underground!"

I didn't know what she was talking about, but I blurted, "Relax! You're not going to be homeless! Surely your, uh, _parents_ will take care of you, at least!"

"No they won't," she said darkly.

A pregnant silence followed as her meaning seeped in. I was hesitant to even mention her being sold to YME.

"They offered me five hundred dollars if I follow you around all day! If I don't have a camera, I'll be _disqualified_! They'll hack my identity and take everything away!" She kept on crying.

Preston rubbed his face in frustration, then shot Xavier a pleading glance.

The latter sighed, rolled his eyes, and took out his phone, texting something.

He beckoned me over to him.

When I obeyed, Caitlyn tried to follow, but he said, "Ms. Siebers and I need to discuss this matter privately for a moment. _Alone._ "

Caitlyn clenched and unclenched her fists. "She's really not supposed to leave my sight. At least, not more than five minutes."

"It won't take long," Xavier assured.

He led me through the apartment entrance to a stairwell, closing the door.

"What do you think?" I said. "I mean, couldn't we just have her sign some papers and let her in on all this?"

"There's no need. _Your twin is going to take her on a tour, and buy her a new camera._ In the meantime..."

The stairwell was square, concrete, no decoration save for floor numbers. I saw clusters of plain wooden doors with chip scanners on them in place of locks. Xavier led me into one of these on the third floor, fighting the stubborn object until it opened inward to a shabby studio that looked more like a cheap hotel room than an apartment.

I found my twin seated on the bed, dressed nearly identically to me, with the extra addition of a dog collar around her neck.

"So, _Number 41498_. We finally meet!"

"Hi," I stammered.

She got up and shook my hand. "41206. We're both named Ellie Siebers, so I hope you don't mind we use our serial numbers."

"That's fine. So what are we doing?"

Xavier cleared his throat. " _You're_ not doing _anything_. You're going to hide up here for a few minutes. I'll let you know when you can come down."

He led 41206 out of the room, locking me in.

I waited a few minutes, but Xavier didn't come back.

The room didn't offer much of anything for me to do, well, other than watching a monitor on the wall, but I had to turn it off because it was advertising directly to me.

I sat on the bed and opened my suitcase, wondering if and when I'd actually need any of its contents.

The Raggedy Ann doll I found from the wreck, the one with the things inside - that was gone. Never used any of the items I found there.

The same went for that jacket. Left it on the plane. The only memento that remained was the embroidered heart with the cross and silhouette.

I pulled my `spy items' out of the suitcase, one by one, examining them.

These were all dangerous things, in one way or another.

The badge collar really did fit around the neck. It wasn't shaped right for anything else. It seemed totally demeaning.

I flipped through _Bounteous Life_ and immediately put it down. The man obviously didn't know the first thing about real life, Bounteous or otherwise.

I didn't touch the lipstick or the eyebrow pencils. I was too suspicious of them, especially the blue one with the skeleton key in the base.

I had an extra deodorant, but it looked very similar to the pepper spray. I ended up spraying shots of both in the air. The one that made me cough I scratched with the emery board stiletto.

The hair dryer?...Why. I had to ask. I could see myself groggily coming back from a shower and doing an Ernest Hemingway by mistake.

Then there was the sexual stuff, really too much for me, too soon.

I cracked open the YME handbook, flipping through the computerized menus.

Tons of policies, a constantly updating chart of employees, officials, and how they ranked in the organization.

Everywhere it had `magazine ads' for things I guess they thought I'd appreciate, the Goth boutique, inspirational quotes from Hampton's newest book, ads for new restaurants, a docudrama about Homeschoolers fighting for their place in modern society, Christian Mingle...

I saw ads for something called `Friends Church', which was actually just a sales business like Avon or Amway.

I opened a menu on policies.

EMPLOYEE BREAKS AND LUNCHES:

All Blue Cross Phyxo phone representatives are allowed one (1) thirty minute lunch break per eight hour work period. With the exception of serious work impairing medical events, representatives are to remain in their cubicles for the duration of their shift, no breaks or other exceptions.

Addiction counseling is available through all major medical plans. Newhires are allowed (1) bathroom break per shift until disposable undergarments can be procured.

INCOMING CALL PHONE BUZZERS:

In the interests of creating consistently alert and energetic professional response to each and every incoming call, all phone representatives are required to wear vibrating pager systems, on their genitalia. Failure to comply will result in employee being sent home without pay. If you have questions, consult with management.

Badge collars must be worn while on company premises at all times.

Good Lord, I thought as I closed the book. I'm glad I'm not them.

I opened my photo album, gazing sadly at the pictures.

Mom and dad helping me with Girl Scouts.

All those times we went camping.

Birthday parties with neighbor kids.

Thanksgiving with grandma, before she passed away.

Pictures of me and dad working on the car, or raking leaves.

It hurt so bad I had to close the book.

When I clicked the makeup compact open, I didn't expect to see anything on the screen. I figured I would have to activate something or push some magic button combination, you know, fiddle with switches along the edges, or under the suspiciously unremovable facial powder applicator. Instead, I saw a shiny black face.

"Ernie!" I cried. "I'm _so_ glad to see you!"

"Jen-Jen thinks you need the moral support. I personally think you need _spiritual_ support."

"I do. I just got saved, and I'm in a...a... _sort of hell_. It's like I have a fire burning in my chest, and everybody's trying to put it out. There's so much wrong in the world. _I hate it._ I want to go back."

"I think you forget how unpleasant things were for you."

I sighed. " _I know._ "

"You must stay strong, and do what is right, say what is right, no matter what men say."

"Easier said than done. They do very bad things to religious people."

"They did very bad things to the _early Christians_. They were crucified, stoned to death, decapitated, but remember also how our Lord chose his words with care. If he had spoken otherwise, he would have been killed before he made it to Calvary."

I showed him the diabetes pens. "They want me to inject this into Sil. I think it might kill her...How can I do that, when the bible says not to kill?"

"It says not to _murder_." She sighed. "It is a difficult thing you must do. I have a far deeper understanding of the subject than you can ever know."

"It seems like you're splitting hairs. Either way you're destroying a human life... _or the life of another intelligent being._ "

"The true sign of a righteous bringer of peace is a heart that understands how grave it is to take even one intelligent life."

"Xavier has told me something similar."

" _He sounds like a wise man."_ She touched a claw to the screen. "Ellie, I see in you the hero I failed to be. Sil is murdering humans, Ellie. I believe she is a _danger._ If you cannot persuade her to stop killing, you must destroy her."

"I don't want to kill Sil. She's only a hybrid. Just like me."

"Than many more people may die. Don't you want to save lives?"

"What if they don't deserve saving?"

" _They never deserve saving,_ Ellie. It is the essence of the Christian faith. Our Master died for the ungodly."

I choked down a sob. "The world is so horrible now. There's so much oppression and abuse out there. Democracy doesn't even exist anymore! I wish...I wish there were thousands of her, to _take care_ of them all. Let Al Buraq wipe out all the scum in the rest of this country, then, when they're forcing everyone to worship Allah, _send in Sil._ "

"Careful," Ernie said. "You're beginning to sound like Mr. Weyland."

"He speaks like that? I mean, he's trying to get Americans and Al Buraq to wipe each other out?"

"What do you think all those clones and androids are for? `Regime change', he calls it. He wants to rule the country."

"But he's got brain cancer."

"He already has a cabinet selected, to replace him."

"Robots?"

"I do not know."

"Then why is he so determined to stop Sil?"

"He wants a war he can control."

"That's crazy." I shook my head. "I wanted to ask you something else. I...I think I'm in love with Josh."

"There's nothing inherently wrong about loving someone. It's what you do with that love that causes problems, and leads to sin."

"I know," I sighed. "I'm afraid to... _get too close_. I'm afraid I'll _hurt him_. There's so much I don't understand about my own body. Like the exoskeleton I supposedly have. Or this:" I made the claw thingy shoot out of my mouth.

"I would pray to the Lord about this, asking him for guidance. I would also _go_ _slowly_ with this relationship. Lusts are a very powerful thing. You must not let them master you. If you have the ability to lay eggs, you may indeed have the power to injure him, if you let your body do what it wants. I know from experience how difficult it is, this lust to lay eggs. You will need to _lose yourself in prayer_ at times, until it goes away."

I heard the lock beeping, then the noisy muffled scraping of the uncooperative door.

"She's gone," Xavier said. "C'mon. Once the cleanup crew gets started, we'll be interminably delayed."

As police cars approached the area, every single civilian car came to a precise halt, then pulled in reverse to form a corridor through which the cops could conveniently pass through. Regardless of what each car owner was doing, they _had no choice_ but to go where the cops sent them, due to the systems in their self driving cars. Some people got sent back three blocks, and up a connecting street.

"That doesn't seem fair," I muttered to Kamara.

"No, not really," she agreed. "Sometimes it saves lives, but sometimes the police just use the system to get to McDonalds faster."

The front facade of the Aftershock resembled that of a swank hotel, but without all the tidy formality.

It had windows, but you couldn't see in, on account of the red velvet curtains, monitors looping sexual music videos, and psychedelic hologram and light shows.

Inside, people actually dressed like some of the individuals I'd seen on TV monitors. I realize that's not saying much, but a lot less people wore normal clothing there: Thongs and lingerie, swimsuits, bondage gear, drag, and just about every other kinky thing you can think of.

The bouncers, it seemed, had become _way_ too permissive. In fact, a sign out front said that children got discounts on drink specials, currently rum and Coke, the Coke itself so `Classic' that it contained trace amounts of cocaine, which was proudly displayed on the label.

We passed through a gate flanked by cage dancers tattooed and surgically altered to resemble cats, entering the club proper.

Somehow they had managed to make the interior look like outer space. People laughed at me and took pictures as I tripped over things and dodged holographic planets and spaceships, bumping into white furniture that appeared to be floating in a void. Green lights flashed on my arm, indicating points had been given.

Despite the police swarming the place, it appeared to be business as usual. People kept dancing and drinking and doing drugs, that was, when they weren't rubbernecking around the crime scene or spreading rumors.

I've heard that people generally go `clubbing' to pick up _dates_. I'd say `the opposite sex', but that isn't always true, especially not at the Aftershock.

People of a wide range of body types, men, women, the underaged, all dressed to invite sexual advances of some sort. Tuxedos, vampire costumes and Jedi Knight outfits, leather, latex, tights, pony play, lingerie with neon lights glowing around the genitalia, plush animal costumes, mini mini skirts, thongs. I even saw a nudist room.

One man had a dog with him, a yellow lab with a plastic cone around its neck to prevent it ripping out its stitches. The owner, as required by anti-cruelty laws, also wore a cone around his own neck. He didn't look too amused by the arrangement, but what can you do?

For music, they had more of that obnoxious resampling of resampling of resampling that made me appreciate the way rap used to be a lot more.

The dancing was like simulated sex, but, oddly enough, people didn't even touch each other as much as you might expect. They didn't even chat privately like I thought they would, most of them sitting side by side as the typed or talked to other people, and, more often than not, the person next to them, on Afexun.

That was, when they weren't doing drugs.

In booths, people sat across from each other, with what looked like Bluetooths stuck to their temples, touching their fingers together as they let out sexual moans, a kind of cyber simulation, I gathered.

Josh froze in the middle of the room, gawking at all the women and everything. I left him where he was, trying not to feel jealous.

By the time we got to the crime scene, the police were already dragging the body out of the bathroom. Press grabbed a quick glance at the cadaver, Laura snapped a few pictures, and it was off.

The victim, once a radiant vision in silver spandex, had been shredded open like something a lion attacked.

"Ericka Vantzos," Xavier read from his phone. "Twenty six. Works at a nail salon. Abducted at age four, recently bought her freedom from a human trafficker."

"She looked American," I said.

"Yes. Yes, she was."

People in yellow biohazard suits already had their chemicals out, scrubbing the blood spatters off the walls inside the toilet stall where the incident took place. From what I could tell, Sil had ripped its door off its hinges while the girl had been using the toilet...or maybe the `Sanibar' thing they had instead of toilet paper.

"Let me guess," Lauren sighed. " _They wrote a report._ "

Press nodded. " _And took pictures._ "

"Well," Xavier groaned. "So much for forensics."

" _Speaking of that,_ " said Press. "The crime lab has been asking about the so-called _`unknown DNA.'_ What should I tell them?"

"Tell them we're still trying to figure that out, but if they find out anything interesting, they should inform us immediately."

Smithson was leaning on the sink like he had suddenly fallen sick.

"You all right?" Press asked.

"Yeah," the big man gasped. "I got something."

Press crossed his arms. "All right. _Let's hear it._ "

"They... _knew each other_ somehow, but she wasn't expecting Sil to come here. She wanted to fight her _outside._ "

Looking skeptical, Press muttered, "Okay... _and?_ "

Smithson shrugged. "I'm not sure what she did, but Sil _frightened_ the woman. Made it easier to kill her. I think she was trying to use _her things_ to _mate_ with her."

"And?"

"That's all I've got."

"Let's ask around," said Arden. "Maybe a witness saw something."

"We have video," Kamara said. " _Lots of it. Everyone has a camera._ I'm sure the police have a chip record of every single person that was in the building."

" _Except Sil_ ," I said.

She furrowed her brow. " _Well..._ "

"Call me old fashioned," said Arden. "But I'd still like to interview a few people."

"That _is_ a good idea." Press pushed some buttons on his phone. "You guys look around. It looks like the majority of those chip owners are still in the building."

So we did.

Most of the people we interviewed didn't know anything. They had been too busy with their Afexun accounts and other things to pay attention. When we showed them Sil's picture, they just gave us blank looks, despite the fact they may have been standing right next to her. The other people wouldn't have been able to pick her out of a police lineup. After all, it had been dark, and Sil wasn't a movie star or anything.

The bar had a glowing glass counter and drink display that reminded me of something from Star Trek. In fact, the bartender had hair and makeup designed to make him look like a badger.

Xavier walked up to this bearded fat stranger, showing him Sil's picture. "Have you seen this woman?"

The bartender laughed. "Yeah! _The Killer Bride_! That was a _great costume_!" He grinned and shook his head. "Got a lot of heads turning with that one. A lot of laughs. I don't think she liked that much. She flirted with a couple guys, then just threw off her dress and walked around in a teddy. Nothing new, really. We get showoffs like that all the time."

"Did you see where she went?"

The badger shrugged. "Not sure. The last I saw of her, some woman was yelling at her about stealing her man." He suddenly frowned. "That's the dead woman in the bathroom, isn't she?"

Xavier answered with a heavy sigh.

"Dammit!" Badger said. "I thought she said they'd take that shit _outside_!"

I turned and saw Preston talking to a Rubenesque young woman in a blue leotard bird costume. Her smeary mascara and distraught expression told me that this had been some companion of the victim.

He brought the female to us. "Marty Kretchmer."

"She took the dress off because they were noticing that the blood was real," our empath blurted when he saw her. "She was telling everyone `fuck me'."

Marty's mouth fell open in shock. "How the hell did you know that?"

"I overheard someone talking about it."

She screwed up her face in confusion. "That's exactly what she said. `Fuck me, please.' _To Ericka's boyfriend._ `Natch, she was PO'ed. `Leave my man alone, or I'll kill your ass!' she said, but she just mad. I think that woman took her `srsly. Ericka wouldn't hurt a fly!"

"What did the boyfriend say?" Laura asked.

"Nothing, _but I saw where his eyes were going._ `Watch my purse,' Ericka told me. `Be right back.' I _knew_ I should've followed them."

A girl made up to look like a purple skunk with appropriately striped leather clothing joined the conversation. "You talking about that weird chick?"

Laura nodded. "If we're talking about the same person, I believe so." She showed her the picture.

"That's her, all right. Kinda weird. When I first saw her, I swore she was a droid. Acted all weird, you know, grabbing random dudes and _smelling them_ , but guys, they into that kinda thing."

"What happened after they left?"

Marty absently straightened her feathers. "Will went to check on her, but _that chick_ came up and made out with him and everything...they left together. You know her profile, you know why Ericka don't put out like that. _We thought Will got it. We thought he was different."_ She shook her head in disgust.

My teammates exchanged wide eyed knowing looks.

"Do you have a picture?"

Marty sent Laura's phone an image from her glasses. "He look mouse but he still interested. _He bi_ , so...she must've been talking some serious fuck _._ "

Laura frowned at the picture. "Why are the good looking ones always gay?"

"I'm not," Press said with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes, returning to the subject of the murder. "Any idea where they were going?"

Marty rolled her eyes. "Probably he _love nest_ outside town. He been trying to bring her there for _days._ "

" _Where is_ this love nest?" Xavier asked.

Marty gave us the address, and we hurried back to the van.

It turned out our vehicle had _manual steering controls_. You had to scan your palm chip and turn a key in a compartment on the `driver's side', but they existed. The controls resembled a Nintendo controller, a cross shaped control pad and two buttons, one for acceleration, one for brake.

After signing a digital agreement to pay the heavy penalties associated with `free driving' and entering a security code for unlimited speed, our vehicle was rushing in and out of traffic, weaving between rows of unhurried preprogrammed cars.

Xavier checked his phone. "It says here that everyone was accounted for at the club. In fact, they've already arrested someone."

"That gives me great confidence in the American legal system," Press muttered. "Never mind. It's to be expected. At least we have a cover story."

" _And an innocent person in jail_ ," Laura remarked with disapproval.

Our speed suddenly slowed as red and blue flashing lights appeared on the computer screen.

"Speaking of which..." Preston groaned.

"This is an automated message from the City of Microsoft Traffic Control," a woman's voice said through the speaker. "Your speed is exceeding the legal speed limit. If this is a life threatening emergency, say or enter the qualifying reason for the endangerment of public safety."

"We're trying to stop a dangerous fugitive!" Press shouted. "A man could _die_ if we don't get there immediately!"

The computer took an entire minute to process the statement.

"That is not a qualifying reason. If you wish to report a crime, push the button now and police will be summoned to your location."

Press slammed a fist down on the console. "Son of a bitch!"

"He really has to go to the bathroom bad!" Josh shouted. He glanced at the back of the vehicle. "The, uh, _toilet isn't working!_ "

"Disposable undergarments are provided for personal hygiene emergencies. Speed limit bypass denied."

"Stick your shitty rules up your USB port!" he yelled. " _A man's going to die!_ "

The computer came back with the same standard response. "If you wish to report a crime..."

"Allow me."

Xavier got up, standing next to the dashboard. "Delta Alpha Mike Bravo Alpha Lima Lima Alpha Hotel."

After a minute's pause, the computer said, "Thank you."

"Weyland's people helped build the system," Xavier explained. "Before he sold it for a few trillion dollars."

The police departed, and we resumed our unsafe speed, zooming to an area of town where the buildings changed from rows of uniform gray blocks to rows of uniform gray rounded rectangular condos.

We arrived at our destination a minute too late.

Due to overpopulation problems, condos weren't the solitary places they used to be. The man lived in a double decker, with two separate driveways and garages.

Small lawn topped with Astroturf instead of real grass. The lower condo had access to a fenced in patio, the upper a rooftop deck with a patio of its own. I could see its colorful umbrella of a deck table from the front walk.

The windows were small round things, like the portholes in a submarine, since it didn't have a great view anyway.

The security system around the front door appeared to be a sophisticated bit of technology, but Mr. Lennox only had to take out his phone and punch in a number sequence that sounded like _Old McDonald_ to make the door swing wide open.

I found the interior of the building vastly more impressive than the exterior, something in a modern style from a _Better Homes_ magazine. A matched set of leather furniture and pillows, all of the same style (embroidered dragons), pointless accents like a bowl of decorative glass balls and a pair of small marbled glass pyramids positioned strategically along the mantelpiece.

Schools of koi swam by pagodas and torii in stylized digital `paintings' hanging in frames.

Artificial potted plants bookended the streamlined tables and cabinets, and a little shelf in the corner held an elegant shrine to Buddha, balancing out the Shiva in the corner opposite. The man even had a golden calf on display above the couch.

A monitor covered one entire wall, still displaying that interactive movie about the woman and the shark. This time the woman stood on an undamaged boat, leaning over a rail as she stared out into the churning water. It stopped being paused when we entered, the woman climbing below to grab a harpoon gun.

A display case contained an impressive collection of Anime figurines, the lower shelves leaning heavily into the category of Hentai.

"Hello?" Press shouted. "Mr. Sendak! I need to speak to you! It's an emergency!"

No answer.

"I'll go check the other rooms," Arden said.

"Be careful," Lennox replied. "If you see something, run back here. Do not engage."

The other man nodded, creeping into the adjoining dining room, out of view.

Smithson ran his hand over a sofa cushion, eyes becoming unfocused as he spoke. "She was coming on too strong. She tried to have sex with him in the car, but he convinced her to come in. They watched the movie for awhile, drank wine. He was trying to get a nerve. He thought she was a gold digger. He's also not completely straight."

"I get the `not-straight' part," Press said. "I mean, _the place is spotless..._ " To illustrate his point more strongly, he held up one of the glass _objets_ as Exhibit A.

Laura examined a couch cushion. " _Wine stains_...and _hair._ " She shut the lights off and ran a black light over the surface. "There's definitely...some _residue_ here..."

Smithson touched a marble statue of the god Pan and suddenly froze, crooning out a strange song:

 _"I have been in you, baby, and you have been in me...and we have, be, so intimately entwined, and it sure was fine..."_

Press chuckled. "That's interesting. Thinking about a solo career?"

Dan shook his head humorlessly. _"It was the song they were listening to."_

Arden rushed back into the room. "Guys. Come take a look at this."

A naked male body floated facedown in an indoor swimming pool, a cloud of red diffusing around his olive skin. He drifted like a log, clearly dead.

"Well," Laura said. "Looks like we've found Mr. Sendak."

"Should've stuck to the shallow end," Press muttered.

Huge digital monitors around the pool made it look like we were outside in a mountainous area with a waterfall pouring over the fake rocks at the far end, everything flowing in a realistic fashion, the grass and exotic plants moving in response to random breezes coming from a cleverly contrived air conditioner system.

 _Heat lamps_ moved with the digital sun. An open roofed plaster portico disguised the corners of the room, preserving the illusion.

"I'm surprised she didn't kill him in the car," Laura muttered as she knelt by the poolside.

As I stared at the body, I thought about Josh, and what Ernie said about laying eggs.

Was I any better than Sil?

When I got older, and maybe married Josh, would it work between us, or would he end up like this man, floating face down in a swimming pool, or bleeding to death on our wedding bed?

What would I be like when I became a grown woman? Did I want to know?

"You sensing anything?" Josh asked me.

I shook my head. "I'm scared."

He laughed, but it sounded forced. "What? A dead body? We've seen _tons_ of those!"

I sighed.

"What then? What are you so afraid of?"

Swallowing, I answered, " _Myself._ "

He grabbed my hand, clutching it tightly.

I just kept staring at the body, wiping a tear from my eye with my other hand as I imagined him being Josh.

Josh opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, probably too bashful or embarrassed to say what he felt.

I didn't have the guts to say what I was thinking either.

Laura examined a holographic LP record on the victim's stereo. _"Sheik Yerbouti?"_

She hit play.

 _"...You have been in me, and understandably, I have been in and out of you, and everywhere, you want me to, yes, you know it's true..."_

Laura raised an eyebrow at Smithson. "Okay. How did you guess this one?"

"I don't know. The tune just kept running through my mind. I don't think I've ever even heard it before just now."

"It was playing at the club," Press said. "A _sampling_ from it, anyway."

As Laura reached for one of those rescue poles with the loop on the end, you know, to reel the body in, I noticed a dark shape descending like a sea turtle from the victim's underside.

"What's that?" I said.

Laura lowered the loop around the corpse's neck. "What's what?"

"I...I don't know. It looks like a turtle."

 _"And while I was inside,"_ Frank Zappa continued singing on the recording. " _I might have been, undignified..."_

The object moved with surprising speed. One moment it appeared to be diving to the bottom, perhaps to lay its eggs or whatever turtles do in water, the next it shot up on the deck.

"Christ," Preston swore.

Laura dropped the stick. _"That's no turtle!"_

What we saw was a perversion of nature, a horrific combination of things human and animal with things not.

The body shape reminded me of a cicada, its shell brown and beetle-like, but it had a baby's head, a baby with no mouth on its face, its eyes a blind white. Although the rest of its body _did_ have cherubic proportions, the chitinous six limbed cockroach-like appearance was not endearing.

Its mouth showed itself as it raised itself on the flatworm thing that served as its lower body, or rather _mouths_ , which shot out on thick tentacles attached to its neck.

A moment later, it flew at Ms. Baker, baring three sets of nasty looking bobcat teeth as it sent her flat on her back.

 _"...Yes, you know it's true, and while I was inside, I might have been undignified, and that's maybe, why you cried, I don't know, maybe so, but what's the difference now?"_

A blade-like limb gouged Laura's skin, but the creature appeared to have something in common with various kinds of biting insects, for the wound swelled rather than bled, the mouths ejecting tongues like feeding tubes into the rising bump.

Press whipped out his gun and fired.

The bullet entered the creature's baby-like skull, but it didn't die. Instead, its blade-like grasshopper arms came up to rip her throat open.

Press fired again, and it reared up on its tail, leaping at him.

The man shot twice more, but the creature just knocked the weapon from his hand, and he was fighting off a mass of clawing appendages and biting mouths, one of them succeeding in ripping away a piece of his ear.

Press drew a survival knife out of the pocket of his cargo pants, but the moment the blade flashed toward the creature's head, I heard a shriek, and a lingerie clad figure dropped from the ceiling, stomping his wrist with a high heel.

She wrenched the weapon out of his grip, pinning his arms back to allow the creature to tear into him freely.

Xavier had his phone out, summoning reinforcements, but we all knew that would take time we didn't have. "Hurry!" he cried as he hung up.

Smithson picked up a buoy, hurling it hard enough to knock the wind out of a grown man, but the hybrid didn't even feel it.

With a purring laugh, Sil flung the ring forcefully at his head, toppling him on his back. "Stupid human."

Now, while all of this had been going on, I hadn't exactly been idle. I decided, as wasteful as it may seem, that it might be a good idea to at least test the injection pens on something close to Sil's physiology, so I was taking them out of my suitcase.

Laura and the others shouted at me, telling me not to move, but I already had the loathsome creature around the midsection, jabbing it in the neck with the pen.

Instead of going in, the needle bent, breaking off on the beast's thick hide.

The next thing I knew, a fist hit my face.

I struck the concrete, watching with terror as the grown woman pressed Mr. Lennox's knife to my throat. "You fuck with my babies, I make you fucking die, bitch!"

I hadn't really noticed it before, but the woman had a _stench_ to her, a nonhuman sort of musk that I can't compare to anything known by the human palette, except possibly wet pumpkin and something chemical. With her body so close to mine, the scent cloyed to the point of making me cough and gag.

"I didn't hurt your baby!" I gasped. "The thing broke! I wouldn't even work!"

Sil relaxed her weapon a little. I glanced around her scaly hip and saw her `baby' still trying to rip Preston's face off.

Arden rammed the rescue pole into the creature in attempts to dislodge it, but it was just a piece of plastic. The creature continued to attack unabated.

"Why were you trying to kill my baby?" Sil asked me.

I stared, astonished to hear such intelligent communication coming out of her mouth. "It's.. _.medicine._ "

She struck me in the face. "Lie! Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you right now!"

Hearing a click, I turned my head and saw Laura pointing a gun at her.

"I'll give you two." She pulled the trigger twice.

It seemed that Laura had spent some time at the gun range, or maybe 7-11. The bullets actually did hit the female, but all they seemed to do was poke holes in her outfit and bruise her skin a little.

I glanced behind me. Mr. Lennox was still under attack, his face swelling from areas where the claws dug in.

Catching Sil's baby with its mouths retracted, Arden lowered the life hook around its thick neck, pulling it away from Press. The baby struggled, but the Greek successfully dragged it, kicking and screaming, across the deck.

Sil Jumped on Laura, hammering her head against the wall until the woman fell unconscious.

A second later, Sil pistol whipped Arden into unconsciousness.

"I'm going to look for weapons," Smithson groaned as he picked himself off the floor. He rushed out of the room.

Xavier ran out after him, urging Josh and Kamara to do the same.

"What about Ellie?" Josh protested.

"Your friend is stronger than she appears. C'mon."

"Tag her, Ellie!" Kamara shouted as she hurried out. "Forget the serum and tag her!"

I nodded grimly, digging out the little gun with the red pellets.

I couldn't get a good bead on my target. My first two shots went wild, embedding themselves in the wall monitor. I raised the gun again, but she noticed what I was doing, stomping up to me. "You intend to kill me with _that?_ "

"No. _I just want to keep in touch._ "

I shot three pellets into her before she grabbed me by the neck, lifting me off my feet. "I used to think you were my friend. _But now I've grown up!_ "

All of a sudden, I see Smithson popping up behind her with a taser.

Sil stiffened, dropping me to the ground, but her body conducted the current. I saw stars, my body vibrating from voltage.

When I came to a few seconds later, a SWAT team came rushing in, armed with automatic weapons.

Sil's baby shrieked horribly as a pair of familiar looking burly men emptied their machine gun clips into it, causing it to explode in a burst of steaming green fluid and entrails. Xavier covered his ears.

Sil roared, an unearthly sound full of anguished fury.

She rushed the men, taking several hits to the midsection and chest before her better instincts took hold and she climbed up the wall, diving into the air system. The trail of green blood told me she could be wounded after all.

I ran to Xavier. "You want me to follow her?"

He stared at me. "Can you?"

It wasn't a request, it was a genuine question, like he didn't believe I could do it.

"You saw the video, didn't you?"

He frowned, politely gesturing to the video wall. "Then, _by all means!_ "

Thus the chase began.

I stuffed the good injection pens and stiletto into my dress top, climbing the monitor.

Sil moved quickly, but I saw the blood, and her musk, sex smell, whatever it was, was putrid, so I had little difficulty finding out where she went.

A hole behind the portico led to a rounded rectangular duct with its air grill hanging off one screw. The passages, just barely wide enough for a grown woman to squeeze through, presented no challenge to me.

Sil had crawled down to an elbow joint, breaking through a register in a connecting duct. I dropped into the hole and found myself in a darkened furnace/air conditioner room.

Finding the scent again, I rushed past quietly purring machinery, quickening my pace upon catching sight of a derriere and a pair of barefoot legs disappearing out a porthole window.

I nearly tripped over her reeking black pumps in my hurry to keep up.

When I got outside on the Astroturf, I saw police surrounding the building, cops pressing my teammates to their car hoods, slapping handcuffs on their wrists.

I kept running.


	24. Chapter 24: Nobody

I only made it two blocks before noticing police drones following me. I couldn't do anything about this situation, so I just continued my chase, hoping for the best.

We raced down the Astroturf lawns of identical looking condos, dodging people, parked vehicles and lawn furniture. I tripped over some beer bottles and had to dodge a fire hydrant.

I saw no crosswalks anywhere. After running a few blocks more, I found out why.

Any time a human being crossed the street, all the cars coming from either direction automatically stopped, ducks in a row.

Although this _had_ to be annoying to drivers, it proved to be very convenient for me.

My weapons shifted uncomfortably in my dress top, threatening to fall out the bottom, but as they neared my waist, they got stuck in a pouch.

"Halt!" I heard a man shouting through the drone's speaker system. "You are under arrest! Cease running now or face criminal charges!"

Not wanting to let Sil out of my sight, I ignored him, pressing on.

We ran for what seemed like a mile through neighborhoods of double decker condos, nearing the big buildings of the city.

I bowled over a transvestite coming out of a gay menswear boutique, spilling his dress bags, shoes and whatnot before I realized what was happening.

I didn't stop to socialize. Oh boy did he cuss at me!

When I saw the church, my steps faltered.

It was your traditional type of church building, a beautiful old thing made with stone and wood, with stained glass windows all around.

It looked like there had been a cross on its steepled roof, but someone had taken it down rather unskillfully, erecting a large golden eye in its place.

A sign out front called the church `New All Souls Reorganized Unitarian Harmonious Brother and Sisterhood Religious Temple.'

A crowd of men in suits and dresses paired like husband and wife stood outside this place, but there were girl couples, too. They had their glasses on and cameras out, snapping pictures of a suited fat man and his ten year old male bride in a white wedding dress coming down the front stairs.

Sil gained distance, disappearing into the crowd.

I accidentally bumped into a pastor (probably an associate, since the presiding minister would still be inside), but he paid me no mind, being too busy talking to a movie producer.

"I expect to make billions of dollars on this film," I heard Movie Guy say. "I can cut you in for ten percent if you stage a protest about it, you know, give a few sermons telling people how Satanic it is."

The pastor nodded, shook the producer's hand. "We've done great business so far. _Great business._ It'd be a pleasure."

The same deal people have been making since the dawn of film. Though, with the diluted nature of their churches, I somehow doubted the profitability.

Someone threw rice in my hair. As I brushed it out, I noticed a homeless man picking up the grains from the concrete. A cop came and took him away.

I scented Sil, attempted to follow, but then I saw policemen stealthily closing in, feigning nonchalance as they stalked me like a pack of wolves.

Someone had left a limousine open. I really hoped for a less conspicuous place to hide and/or escape from, but it appeared to be the only place where there wasn't at least one man in a blue police dress skulking about.

Ducking my head low, I wove through the crowd of transvestites, suited males with matching rings, and men with their own underaged brides, climbing inside the vehicle. The door automatically shut me in.

A uniform passed by the door. I assumed a slouching pose in the back seat, thankful for the tinted windows.

A moment later, I saw a small figure in white lace being shoved roughly through the other door.

The back area consisted of two rows of padded leather seats, with a gap in the middle for accessing the drink table, mini bar and the toilet and beds in back. I dropped to the floor, trying ineffectively to squish myself under the seat in front of me.

"Where's that damned chauffeur?" I heard a man's voice growling.

A lispy sounding voice answered him, but I couldn't understand a word.

"The son of a bitch is probably drunk," said the first voice. "We should have just went with the computerized one."

The gruff sounding voice said something else, but it was muffled, like he were off to look for the driver.

"Who are you?" the child bride said to me.

"I'm nobody. I'm not here."

The boy sighed. "I wish _I_ wasn't here. _I'm about to go to Disneyland._ " The last statement was said with such a dark, dismal tone that I wondered if I had heard him correctly.

"What's so bad about that? Don't like theme parks?"

The boy scowled at me. "Was that a joke, or are you really that stupid?"

I stared in bewilderment. "I'm not sure I understand."

"No. You don't." Noting my blank look, he let out a heavy sigh. "It means _the honeymoon is on_ , dumbass. We're not literally going to Disneyland. _I'm about to be ass raped by my pedophile husband._ "

"But what does _Disneyland_ have to do with it?"

"You really don't know anything, do you? You some kind of Homeschooler or something?"

I nodded.

"Must be nice," he laughed.

He glanced out the door where a man in a red jumpsuit and sunglasses now stood.

"Shit!" the boy cried. "You'd better hide!"

I laid flat on the floor. "What do you think I'm doing?"

He shook his head in frustration.

"Who's that?" I whispered, pointing to the red suit.

"Freemason," came the muttered response. "Order of the Ascended Lightbringers. They practically run this country."

"He looks like an extra from the _V_ miniseries."

That drew a blank look. "What's that?"

"Never mind."

The stranger cast the boy a suspicious look, then goose stepped away.

The boy pushed a button, opening a little storage compartment in the floor. "All of our luggage is in back. You should be safe in here."

I swallowed. "Will I be able to breathe?"

"If you can't, you'll still be better off than me."

I hurried into the compartment, trying to make myself as small as possible so I could fit.

"Wait," I said as the boy moved the lid. "I didn't get your name."

"Mazda. Mazda Miyata Johnson. Well, _Sloan_ , technically. I'm too young to keep my maiden name."

"My condolences. About that, _and_ your wedding."

"Good luck, Nobody."

The lid closed, and I was in darkness.

The engine started up, vibrations purring through my body like an annoying itch I couldn't scratch.

The limo rolled out, to where I had no inkling. I saw nothing, but I could feel every bump, every turn.

Above me, I could hear the man making advances on the boy. "Don't fight. Just let yourself go."

"No!" Mazda protested.

I could hear the punishing slap, even through the floor. "We're _legally married_ now, so you'd better get used to it!"

"You _forced_ me to marry-"

Mazda got slapped again. He was crying now.

"Shut up or I'll really give you something to cry about!"

Mazda whimpered, then became silent.

"Why were you playing with the Stow-And-Go?" the man suddenly asked.

"I was _bored._ "

"We'll soon take care of that, won't we? _Won't be bored at all tonight!_ "

"No!" Mazda cried. "Please, Johnny! I promise to be good!"

 _"Oh, you'll be good, all right..._ "

I heard Mazda sobbing at that.

It seemed like only a minute before we were stopping again.

"What's in there?" Johnny asked. "What's down in that compartment?"

"Girl!" Mazda wailed. "Some ex-Homeschooler YME kid! Please don't hurt me anymore!"

A long silence followed this.

" _...Girl."_ The voice was right up against the lid. _"I always wanted to do a threesome."_

I paled in fright, reaching into my dress top.

The lid came open. The face of the husband stared back at me, a slack jawed gap toothed caucasian face with long stringy hair.

"My. Ain't you a cutie! _Wearing anything fun under that outfit?_ "

In response, I screamed, making that claw thing shoot out of my mouth. The man recoiled in shock.

I popped the blade out of my emery board, found a vulnerable spot, stuck it in.

I kinda felt bad about stabbing the guy, but I was defending myself.

In retrospect, I guess I should have brought along the mace instead of just the knife, but I was in a hurry, more focused on stopping Sil than...other things.

The wound wasn't fatal. I'd hit him in the chest near the bicep, but not around any arteries.

I got away. That was the important thing.

I rushed to a door, but, as I couldn't figure out the mechanism, I opted for breaking the window and jumping out.

"Take me with you!" Mazda shouted as he leaned out the window.

It was like I suddenly had a little brother. I couldn't just leave him there.

I knew it was a bad idea the moment I grabbed his arms. I mean, what was I going to do with this kid? But I yanked him out the window anyway, rushing away from the vehicle.

All of the buildings looked alike. I didn't know where to go, but I decided we needed to go _somewhere_ , or the guy would come after us.

It didn't help that the kid was slow and out of shape. I had to rip off his train, physically carrying him. I probably would have worn myself out, or walked, had I not been part alien...whatever.

I'd lost Sil's scent. Since I still had my phone buckled to belt, I took it out, attempting to track her via GPS.

I ducked down the first connecting street I saw, running down a few blocks.

I checked the phone. Sil's signal was getting stronger.

"What's that, Ellie?" Mazda asked. I'd told him my name during the jog.

"I'm tracking a friend of mine. We have some unfinished business."

"If he's like you, I'd like to meet him."

"It's a _she_ , and she's not. Be glad you never met her. She's really dangerous, which is why I need to take you someplace safe until the heat is off and the threat is neutralized."

"Does she make the thing come out of her mouth too?"

I shook my head, jogging past another house. "Worse."

"Some friend!" Mazda muttered.

 _"Yeah."_

Already I could see the limo trailing us. I dashed down another street, passing a trailer park, the biggest one I'd ever seen.

The trailers were stacked four layers high, with ladders and scaffolds to get to the next tier. It looked like the type of post-apocalyptic shantytown you'd see in _Ready Player One_ or _The Terminator_ , but people in polo shirts and khakis wandered around the place with phone headsets and tablets, discussing online orders like they were in a call center environment.

In the interest of escaping Johnny, I ran into this place, darting around the discarded refrigerators, sofas, washers and broken cars. Dogs ran loose, snarling and backing away as I approached.

Seeing a blue uniformed figure standing in front of one of the trailers, I sucked in my breath, but it turned out he was too busy handcuffing a man for possessing a bag of generic dog food.

I ran the other way before he could see me.

I saw people smiling and clapping, I guess due to what they assumed about me and the little boy. I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

"Is there...some...place I can take you? A relative, perhaps?"

The boy trembled violently. "No."

 _"We'll figure out something,"_ I sighed.

The buildings were taller now. I passed the offices of Dianetics and two medical buildings, a Planned Parenthood where swollen bellied women were lined up for blocks inside cattle corrals, and a `Men's Pregnancy' station where male couples stood in line for _their operation_. Signs in front of both businesses said that informal methods of adoption were forbidden by law, meaning that men couldn't take the unwanted babies. An unlabeled refrigerator truck stood out back behind the women's clinic, for the abortion meats.

Next door to this place stood an establishment called Allied Staffing and Debt Repayment. `Work for the One You Owe,' the sign said on the side of the building.

We neared a high rise with a movie theater at the bottom, the `Googleplex'. I rushed through the door, staring at my surroundings.

Classic style theater, concession stands, red carpet, dark walls, large displays for upcoming movies, some digital, framed pictures of movie stars.

Simon Pegg, Austin Butler, Jesse Eisenberg, Shia Labeouf, etcetera. Nothing super old like Chaplin or Greta Garbo, of course. The oldest stars I could find were Johnny Depp, Jack Nicholson and Russel Crowe.

I saw no ticket takers. People just walked into the theaters as the machines scanned their bodies.

The films also all appeared to have a running time of eight hours.

One cardboard display advertised a film called _About A Boy_. It pictured men holding hands. _"They fooled everyone into thinking they were straight,"_ the tagline read. _"Even each other."_

I thought that looked pretty terrible until I saw the one for _Rainbow Party 2_. There are certain things that should never be immortalized in a three dimensional cardboard display.

I saw others that seemed more interesting, a movie about the _Star Wars "_ Endor Holocaust", a vampire movie, a haunted house, and a couple superhero films.

People in Jedi Knight outfits took offerings outside the _Endor_ film. Obsessed much?

Seeing a horoscope machine, I put my hand to the scanner to see if I could get some coded advice from Weyland, maybe tell him where I am by the electronic signature.

My horoscope said: `The stars will be silent today. Follow the path you have chosen to attain your goal. Stay the course, and let nothing distract you.'

There were numbers on the back, but it did me no good without my `code book'.

Confused, I got another one: `Your mentors will soon fail you, leaving you to your own devices. Aries may still be yours, but the objective will be achieved only by your own careful planning and resourcefulness.'

"So I'm on my own," I muttered.

"You actually take those things seriously?" Mazda asked.

I shrugged. "Sometimes."

I decided to give it one more go.

`Betrayers surround you. Trust no one except your own sign.'

I shook my head in frustration. "Let's watch a movie."

We stepped into the theater for Marvel's _Crisis On Infinite Earths_ (I guess DC had been bought out?). The boy pressed my hand to the scanner and ran ahead, muttering something about not wanting Johnny to see the chip.

People with disheveled clothes and hair lay sleeping on the cushiony recliner seats. They looked like homeless drifters.

As I stared, one of the hobos tried to sell me earplugs and a sleep mask, which a number of the other moviegoers already wore.

"Why would I need that?" I said. _"I came here to watch a movie."_

The man laughed at this. "That's what everyone says. But when you can't afford a place to stay, and need sleep...Sure you don't want any?"

I shook my head.

"If you want to watch something, you're in the wrong theater. I suggest the I-Film place across the street, unless you like the smell."

Thinking of Mazda, I decided to go ahead a buy a mask and earplugs anyway.

"What are these for?" the boy asked as I handed him the items.

"I need to go track down my friend. I'd take you along, but you're slowing me down. I need to be fast to catch her. You're going to have to hide in here for awhile and sleep or something. It's going to be awhile."

Mazda looked like he were going to cry.

I placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Look. I'll come back for you, but you gotta be strong and fight. If anyone tries to kidnap you and take you somewhere, kick them in the crotch, poke them in the eyes and run like hell, okay?"

He swallowed and nodded. "Okay."

I left him as the opening credits rolled onto the screen.

I never saw him again.

"I know it's a gay film," I heard a bum saying in the hallway. "But those are generally the type of films with the least amount of screaming and explosions."

"Yes," said another bum next to him. "But aren't you afraid it'll make you go queer?"

A machine on the wall spat out a ticket.

"All right! Rolling paper!"

I found a familiar spiky haired android waiting on a bench near the entrance, with my suitcase beside her.

"Big Bird!" I cried, giving her a hug. "I thought I was all on my own! Praise Jesus!"

A machine on the wall spat out a ticket.

"You have broken a proselytization law," Big Bird said. "But the punishment is not logical, as I am not human."

"It's just an interjection. Mostly. I didn't mean-"

Big Bird raised a hand to silence me. "It's silly. I canceled the ticket the moment it was issued."

My eyes widened. "You can do that?"

She nodded. "It is simplicity itself to communicate with fining machines."

I stared in shock as Kamara came marching out of the bathroom. "I thought you were under arrest!"

Kamara looked pained. " _I was_ , but they let me go. They couldn't prove I had anything to do with the murder, the breaking and entering, or the firearms."

Of course I had to hug her too. "What about Josh?"

" _He's fine_. Being in YME has its perks."

"I don't understand. Why was everyone arrested?"

"We're not the police," Josh said as he came out of the men's room. "Our SWAT team wasn't official. We didn't have clearance for the guns, or search warrants. They said it was B and E."

He pulled a pair of handcuffs out of his dress top. "I would have caught up with you if they hadn't tased me."

"I love you," I blurted before I knew what I was saying.

I covered my mouth, blushing furiously.

"What?" Josh said, turning a bit pink himself.

Kamara giggled.

"Oh my God," I whispered, sotto voce. "I meant, I just meant _I love it when you do magic tricks._ "

"I love you too," he answered.

Even Big Bird was grinning. My blush deepened.

" _Weirdo_ ," I muttered, feeling like I were going to die from embarrassment.

" _Space freak_ ," he said with a smile.

"What are you doing here?" Kamara asked me.

I answered, "I was about to ask you the same question."

"We wanted to catch up to you, so we could replace the heads on those injection pens. Mr. Fitch ordered some diamond tipped needles."

I handed over the pens, and Big Bird replaced the tips.

I told Kamara about Mazda. "I think he should be okay for awhile. The movie is eight hours long."

Big Bird froze for a second, then looked at me apologetically. "There is a warrant out for your arrest, on kidnapping charges, as well as for violent assault and battery, attempted murder. Mazda Sloan is the bride of Johnathan Sloan, chief Copyrighted Materials Auditor of the Electronic Consciousness Project."

"Wait," I said. "He audits people's _memories_ for copyright infringement?"

"Yes. The amount of revenue generated by royalties and memory censorship strategies keeps virtual simulations such as The Night Forest affordable."

"So if I have a wonderful memory of my dad when the Beatles were playing on the radio..."

"Unless he has included royalties payments in his last will, you have a choice between memory erasure or a one minute commercial spot preceding the memory."

"That's horrible."

"Your clone is at the police station, taking your place in prison. Be more careful next time."

Kamara checked her phone. "You should go. Sil's getting away."

Remembering the incident with `Mr. Sloan', I grabbed the mace, the lipstick, eyebrow pencils and a couple condoms, the latter just in case something weird happened. The world was getting... _unpleasant_. "What about Johnny?"

Kamara frowned. "We can't help with that one. Keep avoiding the Po-Po and you should be fine."

I sighed. "Easier said than done."

"Can I go with you?" Josh asked. It sounded funny, like he were asking me on a date, so he quickly added, "I mean, can I come along?"

"That would be tremendously inefficient," said Big Bird. "My systems have reported Ms. Ripley-Siber's running speed at a consistent thirty miles per hour, unencumbered. In contrast, Mr. Quay, your school records indicate your maximum is ten to fifteen, though your speed drops to five or less before you can complete the first mile."

Josh looked humiliated, but he nodded anyway. "I can't be perfect at everything."

"Agreed," Big Bird said. " _Your grades in mathematics_ , for example..."

"That's enough, Big Bird!"

"My apologies for the slight against your pride, but I believe Ms. Ripley-Sibers..."

"I should go...Where are my dolls?"

"They're awaiting you in the vehicle that is departing in 2.5 minutes."

"It's a Toyota Beetle," Kamara said. "It looks like a pest control car."

I gawked at her. "Volkswagen got bought out?"

"One minute, ninety seconds," Big Bird said.

"Never mind." I rushed outside.

A blue Beetle awaited me, one with painted ladybug spots and a pair of metal insect antennas on the roof. The rear passenger door was closing by the time I reached it.

I pulled it back just in time, jumping into the seat.

I found a little boy playing with my dolls. He wore a navy blue Sunday school dress, white stockings, and a pair of girly buckle shoes.

"Um...hello?" I said. "Who are you?"

"I'm no one."

That makes two of us, I thought. Having used a similar line before, I didn't press the subject. "What are you doing here?"

"I do what I want, go where I want."

"Is that why you're wearing a dress?" I challenged.

A row of red lights flashed up my arm. I looked up front and noticed the camera drone perched on the chrome bug spray canisters below the computer console.

"I like the way the stockings feel," he said matter-of-factly. "You're a Homeschooler, aren't you?"

I swallowed. "Yeah?"

"I could tell by the dolls. Frankly, I'm surprised they even had Afrexun accounts."

"It's a surprise to me too."

I got a single green dot for that.

Our vehicle took off down the street.

"Where are we going?" the boy asked.

I shrugged. "Not sure. Wherever my friend Sylvia ran off to, I guess."

"Aren't you supposed to be in jail?"

I shook my head. "That's my twin sister. People are always getting us mixed up."

Green lights on that one.

"I lost my parents too," the kid said.

I noticed a green flash out of the corner of my eye.

"What's your real name, _No One?_ "

"It's _Nemo_. Like the Disney cartoon. It literally means nobody. People call me `Blind Spot' because I fell through the cracks in the system."

"Are you...working with a pest control person?"

Nemo laughed. "No. I just saw an open car and got in. I do it all the time. No one ever says anything. They just let me ride to the next stop, and I get out. Some people even try to close the door on me, like I'm some kind of ghost." He shrugged. "Maybe I am one."

 _"I can talk to you_."

"Maybe you're dead too."

The thought made a chill run down my back. "Lots of people talk to _me_ ," I said. "This car was programmed to get me to my friend's location. I don't think I'm dead."

"Well maybe it's just me. Maybe you're psychic."

I pinched him.

"Ow!"

"You seem real to me. Anyways, how can you have an Afexun account if you're not alive?"

"Have you ever been in the Night Forest?"

I shook my head. "You don't look digital to me."

"Someone hacked my identity when I was born. I don't have anything to prove who I am."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"What's your point score?"

I frowned. "I don't know. I...uh...didn't bring my _glasses._ "

"God, you _really are_ a Homeschooler."

He picked up my doll, rubbing the `MOTHER' embroidered on her outfit. "Your mom was a long-dress wearer?"

I nodded. "She wore them a lot. Why?"

Yellow lights appeared on my arm.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Yellow means `conflicted.' No score. Not everyone likes long-dress wearers."

He sighed. "I lost my mother too. There were complications after her transplant surgery. Something got blocked up."

"My parents were killed by Al Buraq." It was a half truth, but he seemed convinced.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know your parents were war heroes."

I suppressed a sob at this. "Yeah. _They were heroes._ "

A green light flashed on my arm. "What was that one for?"

"You just got a `like' for sympathy."

He pushed a button that made the window tint, displaying a news program. Something about the leakage of thousands of credit accounts from some retail business.

"It's not surprising," said one commentator. "All customer service jobs are temp-to-hire these days. While this is mostly done to to limit the amount employers are required to pay, it gives businesses a way to minimize personal responsibility and maximize profit. I think we're going to see a lot more of these kinds of incidents as long as the government doesn't step in and rectify the situation."

"You're forgetting that the majority of customer service jobs of this nature are essentially outsourced foreign companies working within the United States," said another talking head. "Since these businesses aren't technically American to begin with, there's no way for the government to control what they do. The change has to come from within the companies themselves."

"You're basically saying that nothing can be done."

"I wouldn't say that, but as long as our country is dependent on these companies, these irresponsible practices will continue, and likewise the fraud."

A ticker along the bottom said, `Employment up, cost of livin cont's 2 skyrocket,' and something about how a new male enhancement drug caused a man's heart to literally explode in his chest. The writing was sloppy. I guess they sacrificed quality for speed.

A commercial followed, a disgusting one where they showed a cartoon stork, you know, _using one of the sperm bank machines_ and _making money shoot out in response_.

"No money?" It said. "Visit a Storx Center...Storx. _Do what comes naturally._ "

"Ugh," I groaned.

What I saw after the break nearly made me jump out of my seat.

It was the image of Weyland's airbus, soaring erratically across the Mexican Strait.

`Hyperdyne airbus hijaked,' the caption read. `Mogul Yutani missing - presum dead - losses to co. exeed trillions.'

It showed a map of the Amazon, with the plane's general location, then cut to a press conference where Mr. Weyland appeared to be giving a speech, _live._

"I thought he was on the plane," I muttered.

 _"You know him?"_

Knowing it would look suspicious to say yes, I shook my head. "...No, but he's the president of the company I work for. I thought he was going on... _vacation_ , _with Mr. Yutani._ "

"Maybe he sent a synthetic human with him," Nemo suggested.

I frowned at the screen. "Or maybe that's not him."

The door clicked open in a different neighborhood of bland gray buildings.

I checked the GPS on my phone, but it was way off. Sil's signal was clear on the other side of town.

The engine shut off right there, like we'd arrived at our destination.

"What the hell!" I cried. "This isn't where I'm supposed to go!"

" _They do that sometimes_. Mostly for special civic meetings, census, or if you're in trouble with the police..."

"Fuck. I should have walked!"

I grabbed my dolls and got out.

As I ran toward the GPS blip, Nemo followed me on a motorized skateboard, a weird kind similar to `The Hoverboard' of 2018, but with a small laser propulsion unit attached to the back. With this he kept perfect pace with me. "Want to ride my Danjaboard?"

"No," I grunted.

"Damn you're fast."

Four green lights appeared on my arm. I wasn't sure I wanted that kind of popularity, but there wasn't much I could do about it.

I ran for ten blocks, getting more and more tired with each passing building. By the time I got to block nine, I had slowed to a brisk jog.

"You sure you don't want a ride?" Nemo asked.

"I don't know how," I panted.

"I can take your dolls if you want."

I shook my head.

"What are those bird pins for?"

I paled. "They're...part of a secret society," I lied. " _Order of the Eagle._ "

He laughed. "They were Boy Scouts?"

I was surprised he even knew what the organization was.

When I thought about it further, the idea made me cringe.

"Not exactly," I said, leaving it at that.

Sil's trail ended abruptly at a trash can.

The can had cameras around the lid, and a federal fine dispenser, but I didn't have to touch it to see what had happened.

There on top, amid a pile of bloody recycled paper restaurant napkins, was a small mound of red BB pellets and a wadded lace teddy with bullet holes in it. I got so mad that I kicked the trash can, incurring a fee as a result.

"Dammit!" I cried. "`Keep in touch', I said! Me and my big fat mouth!"

"Jesus, man," Nemo said as he examined the trash. _"What did your friend do?"_

"It's a long story."

I showed him a picture of her from my phone. "This is who I'm looking for. Have you seen her anywhere?"

He stared at the screen for a moment. "No. Can't say that I have." He grabbed the phone, staring at it more closely. "Wow. She's old enough to be your mom. Did she adopt you or something?"

I nodded. "I've got to get back to her."

"If I see anything, I'll let you know."

I sighed, gazing at my doll.

Weyland may have disappeared, but I figured I could maybe contact _someone_ , so I turned the eagle pin and `Spoke to mom.' "Sil pulled out her trackers. I'm going to try to find her again, but I'm just following my nose. I don't know if it will work. I'd like some advice."

"I used to talk to mine too," Nemo said. "But I stopped because they never talked back."

I received yellow and green lights.

Seeing a horoscope machine nearby, I scanned by chip to see if anyone heard me.

The horoscope read: `As retrograde Mercury squares with Mars in your opposite sign, you may feel uncertainty in your current course, but true love dawns on the horizon. Keep your eyes open for new romantic opportunities, and dress for the occasion.'

Did they really want me to change clothes to chase Sil? Or was this merely some stupid generic horoscope that would make me end up looking like a dummy? I really couldn't tell.

I tried getting another.

`Aries is blind to your intentions. If you want his heart, let him know in a more visible way.'

I frowned. This didn't sound like a message my team would give. I gave the machine one last try.

`At work, your best advantage will be compromise. It is not always a bad thing to give up.'

"What, is this reverse psychology?" I complained. I threw the horoscopes away.

A few years ago, my family adopted a yellow lab by the name of Jo-Jo. Dad lured it into his truck with a honey bun. I was always walking him.

Well, until we went to a Girl Scout meeting one night, and the dog hung himself with his own leash. Got caught on a staircase somehow. We never owned a dog again.

I guess, in this modern society, me and my parents would've both received the death penalty for that terrible accident, but that's not the point of why I mention this.

I remembered how Jo-Jo sniffed things. He didn't just follow the ground with his nose all the time, though he did that quite a bit. He looked up. He perked his ears. He tracked objects associated with his prey (squirrels, other dogs, what have you).

As I squatted next to the trash can, inhaling Sil's scent, I imagined I was Jo-Jo.

"You're kind of weird," Nemo said as he watched me sniffing the concrete on all fours.

"Shut up." Spots on my arm flashed in all three colors like Christmas lights. I imagined the more decisive people found me crazy or loved my amusing antics.

It felt really stupid, waddling down the sidewalk with my head bent over, or crawling around like a spider, but it was the most efficient way to keep up with her scent. I stood when I could, tracing her imagined path with my feet, but she threw me off course a few times and I had to double back, hopping a fence, or turning down a connecting street.

I passed a cigarette store-payday loan place as a storm broke, a heavy torrential downpour of orange moisture that smoked when it hit the pavement. Harmless, but extremely unpleasant.

The precipitation, tainted by various pollutants, smelled like sweaty socks, washing away any chance I had of tracking Sil further.

I sat down on a bench, weeping out of frustration. The rain soaked into my dress, chilling me to the bone.

"C'mon..." Nemo tugged me toward a gray building with a Waffle House and a Walmart Fast Market in its lower portion. "You'll catch a cold."

The place appeared to be a scaled down version of the Neighborhood Market, basically a grocery store that only had five aisles and a freezer section, subdivided into smaller categories. Its only employee: the checker at the front desk. A multitude of security cameras kept the customers in check.

We a fire stairway up a few flights to a bland concrete apartment hallway identical to the one Xavier had hidden me in a few hours before.

A man in a white suit and fedora leaned against a corner, smoking and flipping a coin in a suspicious manner. His outfit reminded me of a gangster's costume from a Michael Jackson video, but his face reminded me of _Ant Man_ 's Michael Peña.

We quickly hurried away from him.

"Who was that?" I hissed to my companion.

"Dunno. You're probably better off not finding out."

He unlocked a door. The interior was more of the same homogenized hotel architecture, but with Kung Fu movie posters plastered all over the walls, _Wu Tang Death Squad, Enter The Dragon, Operation Condor, Remo Williams, Karate Kid_ and tons of other titles. Pretty impressive.

"Is this where you live?" I asked.

"No, but it's pretty cool, isn't it?"

"So you're a squatter."

"So what if I am? You want to stay out in the rain, be my guest."

Nemo showed me to the bathroom, where some musty but dry towels hung on a rack. When I had a warm shower and finished drying off, he handed me a Papa J's pizza box and some Sierra Mist.

I was eating my third piece of `meat lovers' (I really didn't want to know what kind of meat- there were little bug legs sticking out) when the door chime rang.

I got up, but Nemo told me to stay there.

A video monitor showed a pair of figures in soggy black dresses outside the door.

"Friends of yours?" Nemo asked.

I went over to look, grinned at what I saw. "Yeah. Open up."

"I hope they don't want food. There isn't much here."

He let my friends in.

"How'd you find me?" I asked.

Kamara stomped in, damp and shivering, on the carpet. "With that chip, you're easy to track. I wish the same thing could be said about your big friend."

"I lost her trail."

"I know." Noting Nemo's presence, she leaned close to me, whispering in my ear. "Big Bird picked up the transmission. I would have texted you, but I don't have access to the system, and you didn't take your glasses with you."

"You can't use the dolls?" I asked.

She shook her head. "And even if I had the radio set, the speakers are really faint. You have to press your ear to the doll to actually understand anything."

"Where's Big Bird?"

"Trying to help Xavier and the others out of jail, hopefully _legally_. She dropped us off on the way over."

"Big Bird?" Nemo laughed. "As in Sesame Street?"

"It's the name of our android," Kamara said humorlessly. "She's an M386. Advanced awareness programming. You'd like her."

"I don't know. I've had bad experiences with synths. They get kind of dangerous when they go Chappie."

I glanced at Kamara questioningly.

"He means ` _Short Circuit,'_ you know, ` _No disassemble_ '."

That earned us stares from our host.

"It's an old movie," Kamara said. "They showed it in film study."

" _Oh._ You YME people work too hard."

Josh took my hand, gazing into my eyes. "Would it be too forward of me to kiss you?"

I swallowed. "Um...I'm not sure that's a good idea. I burned your mouth last time."

"I'm willing to take that risk."

"You sure? The last time, it looked like I hurt you."

He laughed. "Not really. It was like I microwaved some orange Tang and didn't let it cool before drinking it." He shrugged. "So..."

"Look, Josh. I'm...I'm not sure if this is a good idea. Even if you didn't smell like sweaty socks." I lowered my voice, stepping close to avoid being overheard.

I gave Kamara a nod, indicating she should take Nemo out of earshot.

"Got any towels or anything around here?" she asked him. " _I'm soaked._ "

Nemo nodded, leading her away.

I gingerly placed my hand on Josh's shoulder. "Josh. _I'm not human_. You saw what Sil did to that man. What if I kill you?"

"It's only a kiss," he said more loudly than I was comfortable with. "Anyways, I'm not afraid of dying."

I swallowed, my face reddening. "Fine. If-"

He kissed me.

It didn't last long. I could tell I was burning his mouth again.

He pulled away fast, waving his hand over his mouth. "Ow. Your mouth is _hot!_ "

I chuckled. "Seriously? That's your line?"

"No, I'm not joking. It's like it was burning me. It's no use. I thought I was ready, but I'm not. I guess we're like _Beauty and the Beast_ or something."

"So I'm the beast?"

He shrugged. " _It's not a bad thing._ I mean, you know what I mean, right?"

I nodded.

I hadn't noticed, but Nemo had returned to the living room/bedroom, eavesdropping on our little exchange with great interest. "So you're going to dump her until she changes?"

We both stared at him. "What?"

" _The story of Beauty and the Beast._ That's how it goes."

" _That's not how it goes!_ " I cried.

"It is too. I have the _recording_. _I'll show you._ "

Nemo stuck a chip into the television, displaying the animated film.

It wasn't what I expected at all.

Belle walks around in gold lingerie all the time. She reads books and sings the same songs, but remains half naked or gets completely nude in every scene.

Gaston, that smug French hunter guy, gets kicked in the crotch when he tries to make a pass at Belle. She runs into the forest, arriving at the Beast's castle.

Once there, she gets serenaded by dishes and such, just like in the other one, but the music is that resampled rap stuff with lewd lyrics, and the story gets even weirder.

The Beast tells Belle his story about being put under a spell that can only be broken if they sleep together.

They do, but nothing happens. He and Belle get into a fight, she yells at him, telling him _he_ _is the one that needs to change himself._

Beast tries to kill her, she runs back into the woods, where she meets Gaston, telling him the whole story.

Gaston has a girlfriend named Candice, and she's sick of Gaston too, so they take advantage of his ego, promising sexual favors if he can go to the castle and kill the Beast.

The two girls sleep together, and while this happenings, Gaston discovers that he he's gay and really loves Beast. They have sex too.

The Beast, having his `true love' is freed from his enchantment, and everyone lives happily ever after. This they rated `G' for children.

"That's not the story at all!" I cried. "That's horrible!"

" _I know_." Nemo shut the program off. "The acting really sucks. Why were you comparing yourselves to _that?_ "

"Uh, _there's a different story_ ," Josh said. "An _older_ one. Um, you see, psychologically, Ellie is like the Beast because she has a lot of... _anger issues_."

I reddened, wondering if he'd pulled that comment out of nowhere, or if he really saw a problem. This was no place to ask. "... _Yeah_. But, you know, in the original story, _Belle changes the Beast._ "

"I don't get it. Is she still a lesbian?"

"No, no. You got the story all wrong."

"Yeah? Then how's it supposed to go?"

I was in the middle of telling him when I heard the outside lock beeping.

"Who's that?" I asked the door swung open.

"No clue," Nemo said. "No one but the building manager should have access-shit!"

Four people burst into the room, three men, one woman, their leader being the man in the white suit. The others looked like cops, except they wore black dresses and wore badges with Cinderella's castle embossed on them. The leader's badge had jewels glittering from its towers.

The men pulled out tasers and pepper spray, shouting for us to remain where we are.

"What's this about?" I cried.

"You are under arrest for _bootlegging_ ," said El Hombre Blanco. "Unless you intend to repay the Disney company for your piracy right now, I suggest you remain silent and accompany us to the Repayment Center."

" _It's my fault_ ," Nemo said. " _It's my bootleg._ Arrest me."

The cops said nothing in response, like Nemo hadn't spoken at all. Instead, El Hombre Blanco addressed _me_. "Your silence appears to indicate that you don't have funds to pay the piracy charges. Is that a reasonably correct assumption?"

My arm lit up with all red lights. "Let's just say I _might_ have the money. It's not our bootleg, as my friend here has mentioned."

 _"I didn't hear anybody say anything,_ " the man replied.

He pointed at Josh. "Is it true? This bootleg is yours?"

"Hey!" Nemo protested. "Leave them alone! _It's my fault!_ You hear me!"

The leader grabbed Josh roughly. "Is it true? The bootleg is yours?"

Josh shook his head, pointing at Nemo. "It's _his_. Didn't you hear him say that?" His arm lights turned red.

"There's only one boy in this room," the cop said. " _And it's you._ "

"I beg to differ!" Nemo said.

The cops acted like they couldn't hear.

"Hello! I'm here! I'm also a boy! Stop ignoring me!"

"That kid is as real as me and Josh," I protested. "He's not a friggin' ghost! Why do you treat him like he is one! Why can't you just listen to him?"

The man in white slapped me across the face. "I'm going to give you thirty seconds to attempt payment of this fine before we take you away to the Detention Center."

I frowned. "Okay, okay. But what's your deal? Why do you go on treating this kid like shit?"

"I think this is _Isaac Spencer_ ," said Kamara. "They keep sending warnings about him through Afexun. Son of that Christian evangelist Senator that got exiled from the country a few years ago."

"That's code for brutally murdered," Nemo said.

The woman kicked him in the stomach, then grabbed him around the throat, slamming his head against the floor.

As a reward for disclosing the information to me, the man in white hit Kamara across the skull with a billy club.

"You bastards!" I shouted. "You're no better than Al Buraq!"

The red lights on my arm remained constant. The man struck me in the head. "Time's up!" he barked. "Pay up or go downtown!"

"Fine, you sons of bitches. Take your damn money. I'm sure my company will clear it." I suppose it wasn't Christian of me to say that, but I was mad.

"Ellie!" Kamara hissed warningly.

The man told me the charge was around a billion dollars.

 _"You sure you can afford that?"_ the man in white asked, his voice laden with skepticism.

"Probably."

"We're adding an extra thousand for resisting an officer," the woman said, probably trying to get a cut of the action.

I glared at her, holding my tongue, but it was no use.

"Nonverbal assault," the woman said. "That's an extra K."

"Are you the same cops that killed Isaac's dad?" I asked in a voice dripping in sarcasm. "Or is this unconstitutional treatment standard legal procedure?"

The cop gripped my hand tightly, gritting his teeth as he attempted to crush my bones.

It didn't work. I just stared at him.

Unsatisfied with the results, he slugged me in the stomach, then scanned my chip.

It turned out I only had access to fifty grand. The man took the money, then brought out a pair of handcuffs.

I glanced at Kamara hopefully, but her contribution wasn't enough. Neither was Josh's.

Clearly, Weyland wasn't going to save me, neither was Big Bird or anyone else. If I wanted to escape this farce of a police unit, I'd have to do it myself, and come back for my friends.

"I don't have time for this." I blasted the leader in the face with the tear gas deodorant canister, then the other two men, ramming past the woman as I rushed into the hallway.

I only got halfway down the corridor before a cop came around the corner of the stairwell and tased me.

The officers emptied my pockets, cuffed my hands behind my back and led me downstairs.

Inside the Walmart on the ground floor, the cops cuffed me to a bathroom door handle and left me under the supervision of a mustached overweight dress wearing officer.

"Dinnertime," said the man in the white suit. "Make sure she stays put. I'll be back in a few."

And so I stood glaring at my temporary guardian's flabby white arms and paunch.

I saw the clerk busily stocking groceries in a nearby aisle, but I expected no help from him.

As I shifted in his uncomfortable standing position, I noticed a small cylindrical lump making a slight bulge in the front of my dress top.

Fortunately, my flat chest allowed me to see down there when I craned my neck a little.

It was the "eyebrow pencil." It seemed my pockets hadn't been completely emptied, after all.

The cops had hung the handcuff chain through the door handle, so I had no apparent way of reaching into my top to grab it, even if Officer Paunch hadn't been watching.

I hung from the cuffs, feeling fatigued but unable to sleep due to the discomfort. It got me thinking about how uncomfortable Jesus had been on the cross. From that perspective, my situation didn't seem that bad.

Suddenly struck by an idea, I feigned sleep anyway, in the sneaky way a cat does, with one eye partly open.

After a few minutes of this, the cop got bored, turning his back to eat a bag of chips from a display rack without paying for them.

Quickly, I nuzzled my face into my chest like a bird picking at lice, making my mouth claw shoot out.

Not very practiced at this sort of thing, I missed the target. The pencil rolled out of my little fangs and popped back into the pocket, rather inconveniently in the corner seam.

Hearing the man's chip munching and clumsy plodding footsteps getting louder, I snapped the claw back into my mouth, making loud snoring noises to cover my activities.

Munch munch munch.

Munch munch munch.

Would the man ever get done with those noisy chips?

I sighed, glaring at his bag.

Loaded Baked Potato and Lasagna flavored chips.

It sounded kinda good, and smelled even better. "Hey, can I try one of those?"

The man laughed. " _It'll cost ya._ "

I shuddered to think about the method of payment. "I hope you choke on those."

This only made him laugh.

I feigned sleep again, listening to him eat and mutter to himself.

When he turned his back to throw the trash away, I bobbed for the eyebrow pencil again.

It was a little tricky, getting the pencil out of that corner.

I jiggled it by the end, snapping at it again and again until I could get a solid grip on it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the man turning around.

I fake snored into my dress, hiding the claw and the pencil beneath a fold of fabric.

"You comfortable like that?" the man asked.

Why do _you_ care, asshole? I thought, but I didn't want to drop the pencil, so I kept feigning sleep.

I tried reaching in again when the man stepped into the restroom, but he came back out too quickly.

I straightened my head and snapped the claw back into my mouth, giving him a toothy smile.

Then, after a few more minutes of acting bored, I yawned and pretended to sleep.

The man walked away, this time to fill up a cup of soda at the fountain drink machine, again without paying.

I whipped the pencil out of my dress, chomping it with my mouth, _my human mouth_ , trying to figure out what to do with it, since I never really tested the device at all.

Assuming that the sharp end to be the laser, I attempted to use my tongue to flip it the other way, facing the handcuffs, but I dropped it.

It turns out the beam came out the other end. I found this out the moment the pencil hit the floor, and a little red dot made a tiny burning hole in a recycled paper towel display.

I kicked off one of my shoes, grabbing the laser with my toes.

The smoking red dot became a burning line across a row of packages, faint wisps of smoke creeping outward.

I slammed my toe down on the button that had activated the laser, switching it back off.

The man emptied his glass, looking at child porn on his phone.

I had to get out of there!

The paper towels were still smoking.

The man sniffed, giving me a jab. "Do you smell something burning?"

"I don't know. This country is hell. You have to expect a little heat now and then."

He laughed. "Speak for yourself. I personally think America is the greatest country in the world."

"Why don't we trade places and see how you like it then?"

 _"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"_

That's when part of the display burst into flame.

"Oh my God! Fire! Fire!" He glared at me. "What did you do, you little bitch?"

"Don't look at me. _I was handcuffed._ "

Casting me one last suspicious look, he ran off to get a fire extinguisher.

As soon as he disappeared from sight, I kicked off my other shoe, grabbing the pencil like a hackey sack.

I forgot to mention that I'm double jointed.

I can't do anything too amazing, but I _can_ fold my shin up against my thigh at a very uncomfortable looking angle, making kind of a V.

What, with that and the natural sticky secretions on my feet, it was a lot easier than you might think to transfer the pencil to my hand, still cuffed to the door handle.

Of course, I had to lean all the way to one side to make my hand connect to my foot...

The laser took a few minutes to cut through the chain, giving the cop ample time to return with this fire extinguisher.

He was about to spray out the fire, but when he saw me with my hands free, he rushed my way. "Hey!"

I pointed the laser pen at the canister. It rapidly decompressed in his face, blasting him with fire retardant foam and bits of shrapnel. He screamed like a girl.

I ran away from there as quickly as I could, not daring to look back.

I wanted to run out of there and find Sil, but I couldn't just leave my friends behind.

I cut off the bracelet parts of the handcuffs, running down the dog food aisle.

I saw no Pedigree, Best Choice, Alpo or Science Diet anywhere. It was all Blue Buffalo and new brands like `Elegant' and `Pure.' They still had rawhide bones and chew toys, though.

On the bottom shelf I found a rack of galvanized rubber bounce balls. I picked up one, throwing it as hard as I could at the ceiling.

The ball bounced off the foam tiles, knocking over jars of spaghetti sauce in another aisle.

"What was that?" I heard the woman saying.

"She's over on seven!" a man answered.

The moment I saw a man's high heel appear around the corner, I stuck one of those extra long rawhide bones in his path. The man tripped and did a face plant.

I threw a king sized bag of Pure over the man's head, then stomped the bag, jolting him in the butt with his own taser. Easy thing to do with that silly looking skirt.

Hoping to see where they had taken Josh and Kamara, I climbed up on the shelving, looking over the next aisle. I didn't see my friends, but I _did_ see the companion of the man I just toppled.

The other cop shouted at me, but I responded by soccer kicking cans of dog food into his head, jumping down and tasering him for good measure.

"Eddie?" I heard the woman saying in the next aisle.

I waited until she was at the end of the row, then tased her in the neck.

I climbed on top of the shelves of detergent, looking around again.

"Ellie!" Josh hissed from the baby product and adult incontinence aisle. He sat with his back against the Pampers, picking the lock on the single handcuff that remained on his wrist.

"Where's Kamara?" I mouthed.

He shrugged, unsnapping the cuff.

I hurried to his aisle.

He made my phone materialize from his shirt sleeve, frowning at the screen. "She's up front."

Josh rushed me to a small customer dining area at the southwest corner of the store, where Kamara had been cuffed to a table in a booth, looking quite miserable.

The man in white stood next to her, grinning as he flipped his coin. He had been expecting us. "Assault and battery against an officer of the law is a serious offense. You're looking at a long stay in a federal penitentiary, young lady."

"Is that supposed to scare me? Because I've lived in captivity my whole life!"

He marched closer. "In that case, I'm going to come up with something _really fun_ for your _repayment plan_. I know _some guys_ that would pay _top dollar_ for a _young little plaything such as yourself_. Make you bleed from places you never imagined you'd bleed from.

"Oh, that little asshole is going to _hurt_! Why, by the time you're time of service is up, it'll be hanging wide open like a sock with all its elastic missing." He clicked his teeth mockingly.

"You're going to be in big trouble once Mr. Weyland finds out about this!" Kamara yelled.

" _I'm sure I will_. _Just like how he paid your criminal fines_. A smart man, that Weyland. Knows how to cut his losses and stay out of other people's business."

Josh tried to sneak away, but the man pulled a gun, pointing it at Kamara's head. "I wouldn't if I were you."

Josh's face lost all expression. "Go ahead. I'm getting out of here."

"What!" Kamara cried. "I thought we were friends!"

"Suit yourself." The man in white cocked the hammer back, squeezing the trigger.

Nothing came out.

Josh waved his hands, and a gun clip appeared. "Looking for this?"

He nodded to a figure hiding behind a display of canned fruit.

"Hey!" the man in white yelled, but the moment he ran after the boy, a pickle jar shattered on his head.

It was Nemo.

"Since you seem to think I don't exist, I guess that jar just shattered on its own, huh?"

Our foe spun around, but Nemo was already a whirl of skirts disappearing down an aisle.

Hombre Blanco gave chase, but as he passed Kamara's booth, her foot shot out, sweeping the man's shoes out from under him. I tased him for good measure.

Josh cuffed the man's hands behind his back as I tased again and again. We used a second pair of cuffs to fasten the man's leg to a nearby table.

Josh knelt down to pick Kamara's cuffs open, but I didn't want to wait. I just sliced them open with my laser. "I knocked out the other cops, but they're probably moving around already."

She nodded. "We'd better be careful."

The man in white kept yelling to his comrades, so we gagged him with his own duct tape, left conveniently on the table.

We turned to go, but found ourselves facing the man I tripped with the dog bone.

"Leaving so soon?"

I raised my taser, but he wrenched it from my grip. "You're making a lot of trouble for yourself, missy. Gonna have to sell a lot of pussy to pay for this one!"

"I seriously doubt that my associate wishes to open a pet store," said a voice behind him.

"Huh?"

The moment the man turned around to look, a spiky haired android punched him in the face, a strike so powerful that he was out cold before he hit the floor.

The female cop came up behind her with a taser, but Big Bird just smashed her in the face with a backfist and knocked her down with a reverse kick without even turning around to look. "I advise you to depart immediately, Ms. Ripley-Sibers. Reinforcements will be arriving shortly."

"To where!" I protested. "Sil's thrown off her trackers, and it's raining! There's no way I can find her now!"

Big Bird froze for a moment, processing the complaint. "Facial recognition software has detected an individual with ninety nine percent resemblance to Sil at 133rd and Grand Avenue. Perhaps you can start there."

"What about my _things_? The police took everything! I need those injector pens!"

Josh took a red handkerchief out of his dress, placing it in my hand. When he took the kerchief away, I held an evidence bag with the pens and other items inside.

"What about my dolls?"

Josh rubbed his face in frustration. "Shit."

He glanced in the direction of the staircase. "Hold on. I'll go get them."

Nemo tossed me a gift bag. "There's no need."

I looked inside and found both dolls in there. "Thank you."

I ran out the door.

The rains had stopped, but the pavement and buildings still reeked with the sweaty sock aroma. I couldn't trace Sil if I wanted to. I had to rely on the street numbers.

I hadn't really noticed it before, but the street signs of the future lacked signage. Nobody needed them to drive anymore, so I only saw numbers on the sides of buildings or on sidewalks. This made it difficult, especially in areas where people had neglected to fix the street lamps or their signs, but I managed the best I could, doubling back when I got mixed up.

It was a long, long walk, and I was tired. I would have taken a vehicle, but after that first unplanned detour, I didn't want to try it again.

Nemo kept pace with me on his Danjaboard, Josh and Kamara trailing about a block behind with Big Bird, on foot, as I had warned them about the cars. No one wanted a free ride to the police station.

It seemed like forever before I actually reached the designated address.

My nostrils flared as I passed under the awning of a Thai restaurant, and not just because of the food.

The awning had partly shielded Sil's scent from the elements.

Becoming hopeful, I pushed through the door and found myself being overpowered by her odor. I was on the right track for sure.

I stood inside what people used to refer to as an `Automat', where pre-cooked meals got placed in little windows, and you just put in money and pulled out whatever you wanted, which suited an establishment with minimal staff like this.

Being late at night, I saw few people besides me and my straggler friends occupying the space, not even a clerk type person or bus boy. The cameras, I guess, ensured that vandalism wouldn't occur without penalty.

Sil had been sitting in a corner booth with a man, one smelling of cologne, motor oil and French fry grease. I also detected things hormonal, indicating, perhaps, that Sil had acquired another mate.

I followed the trail to the back of the restaurant, up a staircase, and into another apartment.

The scent path continued into an elevator, which filled me with dread, for the building had more than a hundred floors.

Fortunately for me, however, I could detect the man's greasy scent on a specific set of numbers, which allowed me to stop at the correct floor in two attempts.

I heard sex sounds coming from room 415. If this were Sil, the humanoid praying mantis would soon be biting off her mate's head. I knew I didn't have time to wait for someone to open the door.

I took out the laser, waving it up and down the door jamb, where I assumed the deadbolt or locking mechanism would be, at an angle to avoid slicing someone open indiscriminately.

I saw sparks, heard something hissing like I had cut the right portion. The door swung inwards on its own.

There, in this bland hotel room of an apartment, I discovered Sil engaging in sexual intercourse with a skinny Japanese man.

They were really going at it. It looked so normal that I felt a little embarrassed to be there...at least... _at first._

As the motions of both parties neared the boiling point, so to speak, I noticed something like snakes coming out of Sil's stomach, each tipped with pointed barbs, accompanied by something like a lamprey, which launched itself from the place where her belly button should have been.

"The fuck?" the man cried, trying ineffectively to push her off.

 _"I thought that's what we're doing,_ " Sil purred, pressing his arms to the bed. "Hold still! _The fun's just started!_ "

The man struggled, but Sil was stronger. He screamed.

" _Oh no you don't!_ " I growled, uncapping a pen.

I raised the injector pen over my head like a dagger, charging into the room with a banshee yell.

Sil was going to get this injection, one way or another, even if I had to die in the attempt.


	25. Chapter 25: Ssunamrozedrah

A lot happened in the space of a couple minutes. It was the kind of thing that you lived through first and only understood days later.

First of all, I had a stationary target. I mean, Sil still had part of the man inside her, so it was kind of awkward for her to move. I didn't have that much difficulty running up and stabbing her with the injector pen.

Guessing that her upper torso would move a lot quicker than her lower, I aimed for her right thigh, mashing the injection button as hard as I could when I broke the skin.

Sil shrieked, knocking me to the floor with a strong backhand.

That's when Josh and Kamara arrived.

"Jesus!" Sil's new boyfriend cried. "What the fuck are you kids doing in here?"

Kamara took out the taser. "Saving your ass!" Then, after an appraising glance, " _As bony as it may be._ "

The man covered himself with a blanket. "Please tell me this is a nightmare and I'm going to wake up!"

"Okay, it's a nightmare, but you're already awake. _Sorry!_ "

"The injection's done!" I shouted.

By this time, Sil was off the bed, stomping after me (actually, _limping_ , on account of the injection). She grabbed me by the throat, bashing me into a concrete wall. A framed picture of ostriches shattered on the floor. "Didn't I tell you not to fuck with me? I didn't want to kill you, but you leave me no choice!"

Kamara tased her, but this only annoyed my attacker.

Sil crushed the device to bits, and threw her into a dresser, where she fell unconscious with a bleeding head injury.

Sil's boyfriend (actually, _ex-boyfriend_ now), having had far too much excitement for one day, bolted out the door in his underwear.

Obviously, Sil wasn't pleased. She proceeded to beat the hell out of me.

I'm tough, but she was an adult, and I was smaller, so she had me at a disadvantage.

I clawed at her face, but she kept shoving my hands down and pounding me.

"Hey! Pick on someone your own size!" a voice shouted from the door.

I turned my head just in time to see Laura pulling the trigger on her pistol.

The shot missed, but then Big Bird stepped into the room, folding back her index and middle fingers to reveal her own sort of gun.

A couple taser contacts shot out, jolting my attacker as they stuck to her bare skin.

Sil's fight or flight response switched to flight.

Literally ripping the electrodes out of Big Bird's hand, Sil rammed into Laura, sending her into the dingy yellow carpeting as she shoved off into the hall.

Mr. Lennox had been waiting outside the door, but Sil was ready for him, knocking him back with an uppercut.

I rushed to the door, watching her flee through the complex, desperately hoping that someone else on the team could stop her.

Press drew his gun, firing off a couple shots. The bullet struck Sil square in the middle of her back, dropping her to the floor.

He ran to her, unhooking a pair of handcuffs from his belt as he bore his knees and full body weight upon her.

All of a sudden, Sil ceased to be an ordinary naked human being, transforming into a gray hard shelled creature, a series of insectoid armor plates defining her shapely female figure.

Preston jerked back in surprise. "The fuck?"

Sil took advantage of this momentary distraction by driving her heel into the man's crotch and throwing him down the stairwell.

I dashed after her, but she was already hustling away from me, and Mr. Lennox's unconscious form.

Despite the injection, the hybrid seemed to be moving fine, with no apparent ill effects.

Feeling like my legs would give way beneath me from the fatigue, I followed her down flights of stairs, into the twenty four hour all night Thai Automat.

By this time, Sil had assumed her human form again, which, while being good camouflage, didn't her running outside without a stitch of clothing on. It was dark, but not that dark.

Needless to say, after all that running, _and those stairs_ , I was beyond winded. I was practically _jogging_ as Sil got further and further away.

It should be no surprise, therefore, that Nemo could catch up with ease, on foot.

He offered me his Danjaboard. "Here. Take this. You're fast, but you're tiring out. You don't have a prayer without some help."

I set the board down, staring at it. "How is this thing supposed to work?"

The moment he showed me the accelerator and the brake, I was off down the sidewalk, smashing into the nearest trash can.

As a machine spat out my ticket for the destruction of public property, I wondered, did raccoons also get fines?

Noticing the commotion, Sil turned around and laughed at me. This was the only reason I gained a half block on her.

Then another when I fell on my face a block later.

By the time she understood I had a rudimentary grasp of the board's most basic mechanics, I was within yards of her, and closing fast.

The next intersection lay up ahead of us, the street seemingly deserted.

I was on her now. I supposed I would have to jump on her back and tackle her, maybe distract her by taking a pounding until my comrades arrived on the scene.

That's when the UPS-DHL truck came roaring down the road at seventy miles an hour.

Non-automated vehicle. As in previous centuries, the government had a looser leash around the necks of corporations than its civilians.

Sil's naked body soared through the air, crumpling on the paved intersection half a second later.

"Oh my God!" the driver cried, climbing out of his truck. "Lady, are you okay?"

He wore a yellow and brown dress with the DHL-UPS logo on the chest. It seemed this kind of uniform had become commonplace.

I rushed up to the victim, uncapping another injection pen. I figured, since the first dose hadn't produced the desired effect, nor even slow her down, another one wouldn't hurt.

I brought the injector down between her breasts, pushing the button in.

Turning gray and bug-like, the hybrid shrieked and clamped both hands around my windpipe, attempting to strangle the life out of me.

As I felt, and actually heard my neck bones (or maybe my exoskeleton) cracking beneath my skin, and saw the first starry flecks of asphyxiation drifting across my vision, I heard a choking gurgle issuing from the back of Sil's throat, and foam poured out of her mouth in a big cloud, like she had stuck a bunch of Alka Seltzers in her mouth and swished them around with a bottle of root beer, like a baking soda volcano at a science fair.

Her humanity drained away, her glassy frog eyed visage taking on the half machine appearance of a locust camouflaged to hide in a car factory.

The UPS-DHL man had been summoning an ambulance with his Google Glass, but when he saw what had happened, he clammed up and took the glasses off, getting back in the truck.

" _You think you have friends,_ " Sil slurred at me. " _Wait `til you become an adult_."

Her body stiffened, eyes locked unseeingly into mine.

I made no moves, just stared and shuddered as I stared into those blank eyes.

By the time I had pried her fingers away from my neck, I could barely see, on account of all the tears.

[0000]

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611501

Personal Diary of Subject 78453760 ("Ernie")

* * *

[0000]

"You attribute too much glory to my grandmother," I said to Golic as I cut into a squirrel monkey with a knife and fork. The primate was raw and bloody, but that didn't mean I had to be uncivilized whilst eating it.

It had become daytime, the sun rising above us, making the heat stifling, the humidity thick.

I had a tray table propped up on my knees, with one of those little ceramic plates. The monkey didn't quite fit on the plate, so I had to tear off pieces to make bits of it fit squarely inside. I didn't want to mar the table.

Golic had been rather ingenious, using airplane seats to make a little living room for us, with a blazing fire roaring in the center. The fuselage stood nearby, in case it rained.

We'd buried all the crew members we could find. Golic wanted to cure their meat for later, but I couldn't do that in good conscience.

Pillow and her two children were content with eating from the stores of dry goods we found scattered on the jungle hillsides. The ones that hadn't been eaten by snakes or stolen by monkeys, that is.

Being as the monkeys didn't have much meat to them, I was on my fifth one. I would've caught a sixth, but they kept getting smarter.

I'd been discussing theology with my companion as we both ate, but we didn't seem to be getting anywhere. "My grandmother is mortal," I explained in between bites. "She's guilty of great sin, and recognizes her need for a savior. I don't understand why you would ascribe to her any sort of deity."

"This is a test," Golic muttered to himself. "As Christ was tested in the wilderness, Shasharmazorb arranged for this meeting to prove my faith."

"You haven't seen Grandmother in her full glory," I said. "If you had, you'd see how the weapons of men can harm her, just like you or I. She is a mere broken shell of what she was before."

Golic already had a prepared answer for this. "She was pierced for our transgressions, she was crushed for our iniquities!"

"No, no," I cried. "I cannot abide with this blasphemy. You are reading your own twisted meanings into the text!"

"This looks cozy."

Upon seeing Weyland, Golic picked up a burning stick from the fire, brandishing it threateningly. "Stay where you are, unless you want to get burned again!"

Weyland had a new shirt on, a flowery khaki buttoned up only halfway. You could see the red scars traveling all the way up to the side of his face.

He touched these scars like he'd never done so before. _"Is that why I have these burns?"_

Golic let out a barking laugh. "That's good, Mr. Weyland! Funny, funny! Why don't you go back to where you came from? Maybe I'll be nice and not cut your throat open."

Weyland stared like he were trying to figure out the last digit of pi. "Did I...do something wrong to you?"

" _I'll say_!" Golic cackled. " _I'll say!_ "

Weyland frowned, becoming lost in thought. "Was it the food I served you on the plane? Because _I thought you liked chicken..._ "

"You're feigning amnesia," Golic said. "That's it, isn't it? _You want our food!_ "

"Technically it's _my food_ , _as it was my plane._ "

 _"Was_ is the operative word, Weyland. We're not on your island with your men and your rules."

"That may be so, but I still have a gun." He reached into his pocket, then stared at his pants in dismay. "I _know_ I had a gun. _It was just here!_ "

He swore, muttering things to himself, like "Right in my pocket" and "Shoulder holster," patting his body for the missing weapon.

"I just had it," he sighed in frustration.

"Perhaps it's in the other pocket?" I joked.

He scowled at me. "Where are those two jokers that brought down the plane?"

"I don't know."

"Did I...do something bad to Mr. Golic?"

"You pulled a gun on him, sir. _Well, actually me._ Golic was just protecting me."

For some reason, Weyland seemed amazed by this. "Do you...know why I might have done that?"

Being a forgiving Christian, I said, _"No, not really."_

Looking troubled, he plopped down in the luxury seat we'd pulled from the wreck, staring into the fire.

"It's said that in nearly every plane crash, there are always two survivors. A woman and a child. Even if everyone else dies, there's always a woman and a child who live. It's an urban legend, of course, complete rubbish." He looked Pillow in the eyes. "But when I see you, it makes me wonder."

He rubbed the crease of flesh where his nose and eyebrows wrinkled together. "Jennifer didn't make it, did she."

"Oh, she made it, all right," I said. "She's just feeling a little under the weather."

 _"She means a conference table,"_ Golic said in a conspiratorial tone.

"I've been reading her _Winnie the Pooh_ ," I added. "It's a little bit of irony I particularly enjoy."

"She's got a lot of meat on her bones. I'm surprised you didn't just dig in."

I didn't acknowledge this with a verbal reply. I just made a face that said, ` _Really, sir.'_

"Who is Jennifer in relation to me?" Weyland asked.

"You are very good at faking amnesia," Golic said. "You almost have me convinced."

"He has brain cancer," I said.

"Are you sure it's not due to a head injury?"

"Why was Jennifer on the plane?" Weyland persisted.

I answered, "She is your sister." We're all brothers and sisters in Christ, so why not?

The man frowned. "Then who was I trying to visit?"

"You have more than one sister," Golic suggested.

"And you just left her under a table?"

"It's not a heavy table," I said. "I believe it is her feeding time. Would you like to come see her?"

He did, so I led him around the debris field to the remains of the conference room.

"Weyland! Thank God!" Jen-Jen said from her diminished position on the ground. "The inmates have taken over the asylum! You _have_ to get this under control!"

Weyland stared at her, then at me. "You say she's my sister?"

I nodded.

"Then why does she call me by my last name?"

"Well..."

Golic blurted, "She's your _half sister_."

Jen-Jen, seeming to understand the advantages of the situation, responded with, " _Mike!_ I'm sorry, I think I'm getting light headed. I'm calling everybody by their last names. Could you please help me out?"

Weyland seemed a little suspicious, but he lifted the table off her anyway.

"Thank you!" she cried, hugging him. It was a very awkward hug. "I thought I'd never get out from under that thing!"

I offered her some fried monkey, telling her it was chicken.

After she'd eaten a few bites, though, Weyland told her what it really was.

"Christians aren't supposed to lie, you know," she said, licking her fingers.

"Would you have eaten it otherwise?"

"I don't know. Probably."

"I doubt it," Weyland said. " _I just have this hunch._ "

Jen-Jen pulled a Sat Phone out of a smashed cabinet.

"Who are you calling?" Weyland asked as she set up the transmitter.

"I'm calling air support, what do you think I'm doing? Unless you really, really like living in this God forsaken jungle..."

"I don't think it's forsaken by God at all," I said. "In fact, it's rather quaint."

Jen-Jen rolled her eyes. "If it's just the same with you, I'd prefer not to get malaria or some incurable fungal infection you get from hanging out in this place."

She dialed a number, telling someone we needed "pigeon handlers" with "white gloves."

"I thought she was calling for air support," I said, but Weyland explained it was code for helicopters and a couple Hazmat units.

"Isn't pigeon poop white?"

"Maybe, but `Clean black gloves' is code for a tidy assassination."

"Let me know when your men arrive. I..." I realized that the less I said, the better. The moment the first helicopter came pounding noisily in, I needed to make myself scarce, and take my friends with me. "I'm going to go look for... _survivors._ "

"I thought we found them all," Golic said.

I was referring, of course, to my newly discovered relative, but I didn't want to tell Weyland or any of his associates or they might try to stop me. " _It's a big jungle._ I know we haven't searched everywhere. If _someone_ needs help..."

"Like your niece, perhaps?" Golic said.

I smacked my face with my claw. " _Let's not be ridiculous._ I was referring to the _human_ passengers."

 _"I'll join you,_ " Weyland said suddenly. " _I'm not doing anything else._ "

"It could be dangerous. You saw those invisible creatures that hide out in the trees..."

He patted his pockets. "I have a gun."

He glanced at Jen-Jen. "Have you seen my gun?"

"Uh, no. Where did you have it last?"

Weyland leaned on a cabinet, appearing to be thinking about the question really hard. "I'm...not sure. I...blacked out."

"You should probably try to locate it before you go wandering off."

"That's a capital plan," I said. "In the meantime, I will begin the search. We can reconvene at a later time."

Like never, I thought.

"I'll help you look for the gun," Jen-Jen said, but as I was leaving... "Not so fast. Mike here may have had a memory lapse, but I-"

I didn't stay to hear the rest of it.

I ran out into the jungle, with my loyal companion close at my heel claws. "The freezers must have crashed _somewhere_. We only need to find them, and figure out how to thaw out Hissandra's child. With any luck, she may have already thawed out on her own."

"How did you know it's a she?" Golic asked.

I shook my head in disbelief. "I thought you, of all humans, would know how our reproductive systems work."

"My apologies, O Great One," Golic stammered. "I have forgotten. _You are all females_ , yes?"

I nodded.

"I have so much to learn."

We marched along through the foliage for a good couple miles.

We chanced upon a large square object of white metal, but it turned out to be only a freezer for perishable goods, useful but not a place to find my niece. We continued on.

Noticing an ax hanging from Golic's belt, I questioned him about it.

"I found it on the ground, my Lord, along with this nice belt. It may be essential for the building of your great temple, _your earthly dwelling!_ "

"Your perspective is skewed, but it is a fine idea."

"Thank you, ma'am."

He suddenly stopped, pointing at a clump of ferns. "My Lord, what is that?"

I looked.

In the daylight, I could see the glimmer of a metal object through the vines and creepers.

"This looks promising." I pushed my way through fern fronds and vines.

It was, in fact, a cryogenic facility. Rows of glass and metal cylinders stood upright in the dirt like tombstones, framed by smaller irregularly shaped refrigeration units, one of which containing Quana's empty shell.

The machines held corpses, mostly, the most efficient way to transport the dead without stinking up the place. I saw human soldiers that had been killed in our previous jungle excursion, and the dreadlock wearing beings that Sil had singlehandedly dispatched in the conflict.

When I saw the frozen creature in the middle, I gasped in shock.

She looked so much like Hissandra when she was younger that it startled me.

The defrosting mechanism was rather self explanatory, somewhat like a microwave in reverse. I tinkered with the temperature controls and timer, patiently waiting for it to return to `room temperature.'

The lid of the machine, although stubborn from the impact, cracked open, puffing cold fog as the refrigeration unit shut off, and coils like one would see inside a toaster warmed up, causing my niece to appear sweaty from the condensation.

After watching this take place for several breathless minutes, I suddenly noticed movement.

At last, the captive's once immobile form shivered and made human crying sounds, an involuntary nervous system response to cold, not an outbreak of human emotion, of course.

My niece stumbled out of the pod, shaking herself off as she stared at her surroundings in puzzlement. "W-where am I?"

I told her about the capture and the crash.

She sniffed me. "Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik?"

I nodded.

I gazed speechlessly. "Wow. You look so much like your mother. You're just beautiful."

I sniffed her, then, overwhelmed by emotion, I gave her a hug, coughing softly on her shoulder plates. "What is your name, child?"

"Ssunamrozedrah Semratusa."

" _Last true child of the great mother_ ," I muttered respectfully.

She nodded. "The Yautja call me _Sakyizna_ , `Little Runt with Strong Nose.'"

I smiled.

"Mother transferred her memories to me before she died. You are a very strong willed human lover. You obsess about a thing called Jesus."

"Yes," I said with an emotional sneeze. "How is it that you arrived here? By what means did you come to this strange jungle?"

"It is a long story, aunt, one which I will gladly tell once we return to my companions. There is something I must ask you first. You were the last _Kijdosaz,_ the last creature of my species, to see Grandmother alive. What happened to her?"

"She escaped the explosion and hitched a ride on two spaceships." I told her about Grandmother's visit to Fiorina 161 and her later imprisonment.

"That's terrible, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik! We must rescue her!"

I shook my head. "We face a formidable enemy. The humans have imprisoned me for the majority of my childhood and adult life. I do not wish to go back to that again. I prefer to remain in this jungle, where I can live in freedom for the remainder of my days."

"I have _allies,_ Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik. We can take Grandmother's prison by _force._ "

"Nay," I sighed, staring at the ground. "You must understand, Ssunamrozedrah, my newfound freedom was hard won. It is not something I would endanger so readily. I have found what humans call `wide open spaces' and a liberality of movement I have heretofore never experienced. Right now, I am free, and content, without a care or worry. I commune with God in this lush tropical paradise..."

"And what of Grandmother? Do you have no regard for her freedom and liberality of movement? What of _her_ contentment?"

I choked down a sob. "You truly are my sister's child, for you have cut me to the heart. But what are we to do? I have neither the weapons nor the tools to achieve such a lofty goal. I cannot reasonably hope to attain this in my lifetime. Such a thing is too wonderful for me to consider. I can only accept God's will, that it is not for me to have this kind of happiness, and be content with my current state."

"You flee with your tail between your legs, from an enemy that is weaker than you."

"What is your alternative?" I said.

"Have you seen my Oxpobitow?" she asked me.

I shrugged. "What is that?"

"It turns me invisible."

I shook my head. "I would not even know what one looks like...if it can even be seen."

"What about my Teklojore? It is a powerful weapon with a laser scope."

"No, I have not seen such a thing."

"A Ruxbojabi, then? A beacon with which to communicate with the rest of my clan?"

"No, sorry." I paused, contemplating her words. "Your clan is with the long haired invisible creatures?"

Ssunamrozedrah gave me a nod. "They are mighty and noble. I owe my life to them."

"A pity we have none of the tools of which you speak."

"There is still a way, Aunt Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik. We will track down the clan with our olfactory senses. Once at their encampment, we will enlist their aid. They will know what to do."

I nodded. "Your plan fills me with great unease, but the goal is a noble one. I will accompany you and help in any way I can."

As we wove our way through the jungle flora, sniffing every which way, young Sharad dropped down from a tree in front of me, looking quite flustered and anxious. "Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik! Come quickly! Mother's about to lay!"

I and Ssunamrozedrah stared in puzzlement. "What?"

"Her egg is about to arrive! Hurry!"

Ssunamrozedrah gawked at me. "Who is Pillow?"

Sharad was already running off to join her mother.

"No time to explain," I said, giving chase.

By the time we reached Pillow, she was doubled over, huffing and puffing as she leaned on a luxury plane seat.

She really didn't have any medical assistants. She just had bystanders.

Jen-Jen and Weyland just stood there, Jennifer with Nathan and Quana in her arms, Weyland merely observing with detached interest like he'd watch any science experiment.

I watched Pillow doing her breathing exercises. "Shouldn't you be lying down?"

"Does your grandmother lie down when _she_ lays?"

I frowned. "I...believe she does it standing up."

"Anyway, it's better for the spine to do it this way. I've had practice."

She straddled the seat, lifting her tail. "This should make an excellent cushion for the baby."

"So much for salvaging the chairs," Weyland muttered.

"Do you need...hot towels or water or something?" I asked.

"Already got it." Jen-Jen pointed to a mound of cloth in a nearby seat, gestured to the side of the airplane. "There's hot water boiling behind that wall."

"More exercise than she's had in days, I'm certain," Weyland muttered.

Jen-Jen opened her mouth, probably to say something nasty, then shut it again, more than likely due to him being her boss.

"Will you lay eggs like this one day, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik?" Pillow asked me in a controlled gasp. "Like your grandmother?"

I stared at her. "I...I don't know."

"That's not fair," Jen-Jen said. "You can just pop them out without screaming. When I was in your stage of pregnancy, I couldn't even talk!"

"You were never in my stage of pregnancy," Pillow said. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Gripping the headrest on the chair like she intended to tear it open with her fingernails, she let out a weird sound, like a chicken's squawking combined with a scream. "Oh God, Oh Ponai!" she cried in between involuntary squawks. Then, as she regained her senses, "Forgive my frivolous oaths, O Lord! It hurts!"

She made clucking sounds, squawked and screamed, then regained composure, resuming her breathing technique.

I watched with fascination as the egg descended from her interior.

"That is the most disgusting thing I've ever seen," Ssunamrozedrah murmured.

I asked, "Have you ever seen human beings reproduce?"

The egg descended slowly, pushed out by the squirming tentacles of Pillow's reproductive organ's interior.

The Abreya squawked, and the egg emerged in a sheath of lubricating green slime, the action of her tentacles reminding me of a spider drawing a cocooned fly into its mouth, in reverse.

It appeared in mottled greens and browns and tans, like the shell of a tortoise, descending on an umbilical, a gentle, slow motion that made me think of a construction crane moving a steel I-beam into place on a building framework.

At last the egg settled on the cushion, the layer of the egg shakily turning around, lowering herself into a brooding position.

She raised the umbilical to her mouth, tearing through it with her teeth.

Jen-Jen emptied her stomach contents into a nearby bush.

A second later, a vomit covered monkey burst out with a horrified shriek, fleeing up a palm tree. We all laughed.

Once Pillow and her egg had been cleaned up with river water boiled and purified with special tablets, I glanced at my niece with concern, speaking to her in Ss'sik'chtokiwij. "This female is a dear companion to me, but with this new egg, and her children, she is in no condition to travel with us."

Ssunamrozedrah sighed. "I too am partial to any creature that lays eggs like a Kijdosaz, but let us locate the clan first. Perhaps they can come back to retrieve her."

Pillow, being no stranger to our language, raised her hand in a sad little wave, speaking in like tongue. " _Good luck._ "

That's when I heard the first pitter-pounding of helicopter wings, a squadron of Boeing Chinooks casting their weird dragonfly-like shadows upon the ground.

[0000]

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611602 (Ellie's Journal - Cont'd)

* * *

[0000]

I rubbed Sil's finger marks out of my neck, catching my breath.

"Ellie!" Kamara shouted, running up to me. "What happened!"

"Are you all right?" Josh cried.

I stared down at Sil's lifeless body. "I'm fine. Not so sure about _her._ "

Big Bird rushed to my fallen foe, pressing her hand to its neck. "I'm detecting a faint pulse. It appears she has gone into a state of hibernation."

A familiar black van rushed up alongside a nearby curb, Mr. Lennox, Mr. Arden, Mr. Smithson, Xavier and Laura racing out to join us.

"It worked!" Xavier exclaimed. "It actually worked!"

"Yes and no," said Kamara. _"She's still alive."_

The man grinned. "Marvelous, marvelous. Let's pick her up and take her to the airport."

As he was saying this, a red and yellow ambulance zoomed up to the intersection, a couple men in blue spandex EMS uniforms hopping out to examine their victim.

Indian and Chinese. They almost reminded me of _Harold and Kumar_.

Sil had reverted to her human form now. No questions were asked.

"She's uninsured," Xavier said as the paramedics checked Sil's vitals with a device. "She opted out due to religious reasons. _Wiccan._ "

The EMT's hurriedly put away their tools, looking like they'd let you die if you didn't have an insurance plan, or something.

"Fuck," the Indian said while typing something on his arm. "Who's paying for the visit?"

Xavier answered, "I'd direct the charges to whoever called it in."

"What about the victim?" `Harold' asked. "Who's taking care of _her?_ "

"It's against the law to leave her in the street," said `Kumar'.

Xavier waved dismissively. "Leave that to me. I'll have her back in the coven in no time."

The EMTs drove away in a hurry.

Xavier nodded to Big Bird, and the android slung Sil over her shoulder like a big bag of cheap dog food.

We returned to our vehicle, Big Bird and Press putting Sil's hands and feet into industrial strength handcuffs.

"Well," Press said. _"Looks like my job here is done..."_

 _"Let's not start discussing fees just yet,"_ said Xavier. "We still need to get her to the containment facility."

My suitcase I found in the corner near the drink table. As I was getting situated, I noticed Nemo stepping up on the running board, looking around, Danjaboard and my dolls in hand.

"You're a very popular girl," Press muttered to me.

"I'm sorry," I told the kid. "You can't be in here. You need security clearance."

 _"That's not entirely accurate,_ " Xavier said. "This little gentleman technically doesn't exist."

"I'm not sure I understand," said Smithson. "He looks real to me."

"He's a government pariah. A _Reverse Indigo._ "

I gave him a blank look.

"There is a genetically favored caste of human beings called the _Indigo Children_. Children with specific genetic markers that get a free pass, the inside track to the best education, the best jobs in any career they choose, automatic membership into the Order of Ascended Lightbringers. It's said they have evolved above the rest of mankind, and are therefore given preferential treatment."

"And I'm not," Nemo said.

"There are strict rules about Indigo, but anyone can be its opposite, if you anger enough powerful individuals."

"There's still confidential government secrets," I said. "Stuff he's not supposed to know."

"It doesn't matter. All of America is basically required by law not to listen to him, or even acknowledge his existence. Ever. If he knows anything, he will literally not be able to share it with anyone."

" _He has an Afexun account_. Clearly _someone_ is listening. What if he shares with someone who pretends not to hear, and claims he found our secrets on his own?"

"I won't," Nemo blurted. "You're the only people who don't give me the silent treatment."

I offered him a seat on the floor next to me and Josh.

"How did you guys get out of jail?" I asked Xavier.

"Police records are all on the internet, for anyone to see. Big Bird hacked the system, modified some records and had us all released on technicalities."

Press smirked. "America has become an `all the eggs in one basket' society. Convenience has its price."

I swallowed. "Has she done anything about my bootlegging charges?"

"I'm sorry about that," Nemo said. "I didn't know about the spying chip in the software."

I just shook my head.

"I was unable to modify the records," Big Bird answered. "Bootleg prosecution is handled by a contracted branch of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, on their own secure system, protected by a Sloan Intuition Firewall and Hyperdyne Security Suite Version 233. The system makes a sport out of unwriting invading artificial intelligences.

"It is easier to break into the Department of Cyberterrorism or the Department of Defense, both of which I only allude to for the purpose of dramatic exaggeration, to illustrate my current inability to successfully bypass EPCOT."

"So you're saying you can't get through their Mickey Mouse security," Josh joked.

Big Bird responded with a fake laugh. " _What a knee slapper._ "

Josh screwed up his face. "Is that _sarcasm?_ "

Big Bird frowned. "I do not know. I still do not fully comprehend the various degrees of human mirth, i.e. which deserves a chuckle as opposed to a hearty guffaw."

"You killed my joke," Josh muttered. "That's all I know."

Big Bird grinned. "Heh heh heh."

I asked Xavier, "Can you, I don't know, get another clone of me to take some of the heat?"

Press crossed his arms. "There's no need. We got Sil trussed up in the back, and you're going home. What's to worry about?"

 _Home,_ I thought. What a bitter irony _that was!_ "It doesn't make sense. A DVD costs what, ten to twenty bucks? Even with inflation, you'd think there'd be a limit they can charge for one illegal showing."

"They have the country's best lawyers," Laura said. "You're not just paying for the film itself, you're paying the entire production staff for the perceived damages, emotional and physical, and for lost time."

"That's bullshit. It wasn't even a good movie. If anything, they deserve half of what I supposedly owe."

"I didn't say it was right, I was just explaining the rationale."

"How did they find us to begin with?"

Nemo rolled his eyes. "It's called ` _Tattleware_.' They hire someone to place a tracking chip and camera override program inside a bootleg they've either confiscated or produced themselves, wait for the film to play to its completion, _then raid the place_. "

"That should be illegal."

Nemo only laughed bitterly. "I think some of my so-called friends have been bought out."

"The story about your mother's transplant," I said. "There's more to it than just that, isn't there?"

The boy sighed. " _Probably._ It doesn't matter now, does it?"

Our vehicle found an appropriate driving window, and we were rolling off to our programmed destination.

"Why is Sil suddenly so smart?" I asked Xavier. "She was talking to me in fluent English and everything."

The man shrugged. "She has access to a number of electronic learning tools. I shouldn't wonder if she's absorbed the information somehow."

"There's a program called Mr. Clucky," Press said. "It got pulled off the market after it taught a bunch of children to make explosives. You can still get it from some places in the underground."

I frowned. "I saw the news. Weyland was in that plane, right? That was an android at the press conference, wasn't it?"

"There's been an _incident_. I got word through a coded channel that we had mutineers at work on that flight, _our magician and his alien friends_ , I believe."

"What happened?"

Xavier only shook his head. "That's all I know. The way I understand the situation, the people relaying the message were too busy trying not to die to go into great detail about the particulars."

"Diagnostic data from the E-485 indicates fuel line ruptures accompanied by a drastic change in course," Big Bird said.

"Maybe there will be something on MSNBC." Xavier turned on a video monitor.

The news showed a recording of smoke issuing from a jungle canopy. The poorly dressed announcers said the whereabouts of Yutani and crew were unknown, and that there had been "biological agents" and "toxic gas leakages" from the cargo the plane carried.

People in Hazmat suits hacked through foliage with machetes, checking parts of wrecked airplane.

Hoping to her from my alien friend, and maybe an explanation about the crash, I took my makeup compact out of my suitcase, but when I pressed down on the powder puff, the screen only turned white, like some sort of backlighting for my mirror. I sighed and put it away.

"The transmitter was on the _plane,_ " Xavier said.

 _"We're really on our own."_

"Weyland is a survivor. I have confidence that the man will eventually find his way back to the island. We must be waiting there to meet him when he arrives."

I was still nervous about the whole thing. "What happens if those piracy guys show up at the airport?"

"They won't," Press answered.

"But what if they do? I still owe them money. Kamara, Josh and I could only give them fifty thousand each, and they still want more."

"Good God," Press groaned. " _You actually paid them?"_

"We put a cap on your allowances for this very reason," Xavier said.

They weren't making me feel any better. "I'm in big trouble. It wasn't my bootleg, but nobody believes me. Can't you please pay these guys off?"

"Damballah doesn't pay ransom to extortionists. Plus you're not the only ones with an allowance. We're all been given a spending cap of roughly fifty grand. Mr. Weyland and Mr. Yutani have to give verbal consent to release the additional funding."

"Don't worry," said Press. " _You're going home._ You won't have to worry about any of this anymore."

"I don't want to go home," I whimpered. "Can't I, um, go live with the Homeschoolers or something?"

"I don't think you want to do _that_ ," Xavier said. "Even if they _do_ welcome you as one of their own (which I doubt highly), life in the towns may not be as comfortable as it was in your original home. It is a life of _hardship._ "

I looked him straight in the eyes and said, "Are you saying that I don't know hardship?"

He had no reply to that.

"Did those men mean all those terrible things they said? Do kids really... _do sexual favors_ to repay their bootlegging fines?"

"Those fines are pretty pricey," Press said. "Let's just say you should never volunteer for a _Disney internship_. The cover story is the company rehabilitates video pirates with work study programs, like the _Be Our Guest_ young butlers program, or the _Magic Kingdom Young Arts Study_ , but few if any really qualify for any of those."

I cringed. "Any news about what happened to Mazda?"

"You mean like the car?"

"His whereabouts are still unknown, Ms. Ripley-Siebers," Big Bird said. "Police are still searching for his chip signature."

"God! That's a person's _name?_ "

Big Bird told him about the missing child.

"That's...not good."

"No, it is not."

"Mazda wasn't even happy in that marriage," I said. " _I was there_. I know for a fact that he was forced into it. That should be against the law."

"You can't argue against the Supreme Court," said Nemo. "I should know. My dad was fighting against the Child Marriage ruling when it passed. The lobby is just as powerful as it was for gay marriage back in 2018, and you see how well that went."

"I don't get it. Weyland has _money_. Why can we not get more cooperation from the police?"

"Weyland has his own private police force," Xavier answered. "That isn't the same thing as bribing or owning the real one. He feels fairly confident that it is superior to the FBI."

I groaned. " _Overconfident,_ you mean."

He shrugged. _"You can say that."_

"If my clone is in jail, where's Caitlyn?"

"Good question," said Press.

Big Bird marched to the back of the vehicle. "She is still playing NERV, violating security protocols, as usual."

She opened a hidden storage compartment along a wheel well, yanking the girl out by her ear.

"Oh c'mon!" Caitlyn yelped. _"My cam isn't even on!"_

Big Bird flipped some switches along the ceiling. "You use our own camera systems against us. _Clever._ "

"You know the rules, kid," Press said. "No NERV playing in restricted areas."

Laura looked anxious. "How much have you...broadcasted already?"

"None," said the droid. "I heard the signal the moment I stepped in the vehicle, and took appropriate measures."

"What about those switches?" Caitlyn asked.

"Those are for the purpose of forwarding this exchange to Headquarters."

"Shit!" the girl shouted. "You just cost me five hundred dollars!"

 _"That much, huh?"_ Press laughed.

Xavier was not amused. "Your _little game_ could have cost us dozens of human lives. Is that really worth a paltry five hundred?"

"C'mon. You're a _piracy squad_. No one's going to die if someone steals a couple copies of _The Brave Little Toaster Goes to Mars._ "

She received only humorless stares in response.

"You guys are _serious!_ " Then, after a moment's thought, _"This isn't really about bootlegging, is it?"_

Everyone slowly shook their heads.

Xavier handed her a tablet computer and a stylus. "Sign here."

"What's this?" Caityln asked with bewilderment.

"Just your standard non-disclosure agreement, saying we can make things very unpleasant for you if you share any of our restricted information with outsiders."

"And what if I refuse?"

"Judging by the amount of time you've been spending in that little cubbyhole," Press said. " _You already know too much about our little operation_. We might have to find a nice little _holding cell_ for you until we can figure out what to do with you."

"You wouldn't dare!"

Press raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't I?"

Laura smirked a little, but otherwise seemed completely serious. " _You'd better do what he says._ "

The girl swallowed hard, applying her signature to the tablet.

Then she looked into my eyes. "Do you really believe what you said? About Jesus and the Christian faith?"

I swallowed. "I didn't say anything about Jesus."

"No, no, _you did_. _You did_. You said that the reason why you left the Homeschoolers was because the bible is a work of fiction and you were tired of worshiping an imaginary person. _If that's what you really believe, I have a lot of respect for that._ "

"I never said any of that!" I protested. " _I love Jesus!_ Why would I ever say such a thing?"

Kamara gave me a warning look. _"Ellie..."_

 _"You were afraid of what Afexun would say,"_ Caitlyn said. "Weren't you?"

I stared at Kamara, mouthing, "What the hell?"

My friend gave me a look that said, `Isn't it obvious?'

I snapped my attention back to Caitlyn. "You _do_ realize that I have a twin sister, don't you?"

She looked troubled. "No. You said you had a _multiple personality disorder_ , and sometimes you're a different person because of it...Speaking of which, how did you get out of jail?"

" _Very carefully_ ," I groaned.

"Why do you suddenly love Jesus? Did you mean that you love him like you love Hagrid in _Harry Potter_? You know, because Jesus is your favorite fictional character or something?"

I swallowed, staring at her uncomfortably. Kamara was mouthing no and shaking her head.

Too late. Caitlyn could read my body language.

"You don't really believe he's real, do you?"

" _He's a historical figure,_ " I said. "Of course I believe he's real!"

Caitlyn looked at me with an expression of concern, like I had contracted some terrible mental disease and I needed help. She didn't speak to me for the rest of the ride.

Nemo, however, looked impressed.

"Did one of you guys type up a horoscope about me dressing up to capture Sil?" I said to my team. "Or anything along those lines?"

"No," Xavier said. "I haven't texted you since I got arrested. Sometimes horoscopes are just horoscopes."

The airport rolled into view, a series of air strips, quonset huts, and rows of small planes and private jets.

Press took our vehicle off auto pilot, driving us across the tarmac to a Cessna Gulfstream, a rather futuristic one at that.

I suddenly noticed Sil stirring on the rear bunk.

Like a My Pet Monster doll, she snapped the chain holding her steel bracelets together, punching the glass out of the back window.

She was out and running down the asphalt before we even knew what had happened.

"Kid," Press urged. "Get out there and chase her down. I'll try to cut her off with the van."

Grabbing Nemo's Danjaboard, I jumped out, skating after her.

We were fast, but Sil was faster.

By the time I caught up with her, the engine of a Kenmore puddle jumper had already warmed up, the body cut loose from its moorings, propellers spinning at takeoff speed as it rolled down the strip on its runner wheels.

The van wasn't built for speed. Instead of passing in front of the plane, Press only managed to run neck and neck with it, resorting to ramming the plane sideways in attempts to slow it down.

The small prop aircraft rose higher in the air, preventing him from clipping its wings.

Press gave it a good bump, but the puddle jumper rammed him with its runners with such force that the van lifted up off its tires, rolling on its side with a noisy crunch.

A runner blade broke loose from one of its posts, dangling threateningly like a broken limb.

Planes of this kind are normally tied down to concrete weights, on rope.

These ropes, shredded, minus the concrete, dangled loose from the undersides of the wings.

I just barely caught the tail end of one of these as the plane rose higher into the air.

Hanging in midair from a single piece of rope, I felt like the weight in the bottom of a grandfather clock stuck inside a wind tunnel.

I gripped the rope for dear life, desperately attempting to pull myself up on the runners.

And then the plane's laser propulsion system kicked in.


	26. Chapter 26: Tragic Kingdom

In my black dress, dangling from the end of the rope, I probably looked like a doily at the end of a lamp string.

My shoes flew off. I just had to let them go.

Why was I up here? Because I knew they could track me, and if I stayed with Sil, they'd be able to find us both, and maybe end this, once and for all.

The Indian Rope Trick was performed with wires. Indians hung a framework from the tops of two buildings, and someone on the roof would pull a wire while the man below played the flute to his woven basket, making the rope behave like a snake reacting to the music, rising high into the clouds as the flute reached a crescendo.

A small boy would then climb this rope, and once he reached the dizzying height of the framework, he would holler dramatically, throwing down wooden mannequin legs painted to look like they had somehow been broken from his body by falling on imaginary cloud mountains, or being torn apart my mythical sky giants.

I thought about this as I dangled from the end of the airplane tie rope like a useless weight.

I decided it better to think about the sanitized version with Bugs Bunny, or better yet, _gym class_. I curled the rope around one fist, reaching for a higher portion with my other hand.

When the laser propulsion came on, it nearly threw me to the ground. Seeing that we had now ascended to an altitude of roughly five hundred feet and climbing, it would have hurt really bad.

If I had been one hundred percent human, my palms would have sweated and I would have flown off. Instead, I hung like a bell pull in a hurricane, reminding me of scenes from cartoons about wind storms, where the characters wave like a flag in the breeze. Did I really look like that? Some boneless limp noodle undulating endlessly in the air current?

Hand over hand, slowly I climbed, inchworming my way upwards.

We now appeared to be up about a thousand feet, the gray condos that passed below us taking on the appearance of cube-like doll houses. A fall would guarantee me a few broken bones, if it didn't kill me first.

I pretended to be a pirate and kept climbing.

It had to be midnight. The sun just barely peeked up over the horizon. Not seeing what lay beneath me, save for what was illuminated by electric lights, was kind of a blessing, in a way. _I didn't want to see_ how high I was off the ground.

We had turned south. That much I knew by the shimmering reflection of the moon. The reason why we had changed course, however, I didn't understand.

That was, at least, until I reached the ring at the top of the rope, and saw _fireworks_.

The most impressive pyrotechnics display I'd ever seen.

Instead of your average generic blue stars, flowers and cascading sparkles. They actually had _shape_ , like _constellations on a zodiac_. Sil, still a child at heart, was drawn to them.

A dragon made of stars silently roared and blew bright exploding fireballs as it wiggled across the night sky. The sight surprised me so much that I nearly let go of the rope.

The dragon disappeared, replaced by a giant Mickey head, which exploded into the shapes of Goofy and Donald, then the X-Men logo.

The logo changed to the image of Simba from _The Lion King_ , then, as its phosphorus dissipated, the stars spelled out the letters S-E-X.

Below this brilliant display, I saw what appeared to be a floating castle, looking like a vast wedding cake cast adrift in a darkened sea, cannons flashing from its towers and ramparts as each new Disney themed constellation appeared in the stratosphere.

As I dangled from the underside of the airplane wing, a good eight feet away from the fuselage, I reflected there were better places to take in a fireworks show.

I could handle this one of two ways: Climb up on the wing itself, or swing to the runners like Tarzan.

The laser propulsion system still blasted us across the continent at hundreds of miles per hour, so the idea of swinging and grabbing anything was ludicrous, especially considering how weakened the runner had become.

Of course, I didn't like the alternative any better. I'd either have to clamber across the length of the wing on my hands, or climb to the top of the wing and _walk_ over. This meant my hands could get tired, and I could potentially fall to my death, or my feet could slip off the wing, potentially causing me to fall to my death.

Atop the wing, I'd at least have a place to lay my body weight, and put less stress on my arms.

The only problem: _I'd actually have to get up there_ , and _backwards_ , since the tie hook hung from the front end of the wing.

In other words, _I wouldn't see where we were going_.

When driving, mom always said that if you're going to do something dangerous, you've got to do it fast, or you won't make it. Although she mainly used this to describe cutting across two lanes of traffic on a busy freeway, the principal could be applied to many things.

I slapped my palm on the front part of the wing. It slipped a little, but eventually stuck to the aluminum alloy.

Considering my previous climbing experience, you can understand how I'd be hesitant to let go of the rope. It put me in a _very_ prayerful mood. "Please, Jesus. Don't let me die."

Don't get me wrong, heaven was nice when I went there, but nobody promised that I wouldn't feel every one of my bones breaking before the final curtain fell for me. "Not like this, Lord. Any way but this."

I let go of the rope.

The engine rumbled along uncaringly, sending its vibrations thrumming through my body.

It felt unnatural, but I slapped my open palm down on the slick metal and left it there as I lifted my other palm off the other side, slapping it onto a higher spot.

My palms became clammy, but this only seemed to increase production of the sticky stuff.

The only problem was, the wing happened to be too damned slick.

My hands made a low purring sound as I lost the inches I so desperately fought to scale.

With a little effort, I got my armpits over the hump of the wing, then my stomach.

I propped my feet up against the bottom of the wing, and the sticky undersides of my feet clung to the metal, giving me much needed traction. Thank God I wasn't wearing stockings.

For a moment, I considered actually getting on top of the wing, but I then realized that the force of the wind kept me where I was, and I'd more than likely blow off the sleek aerodynamic surface if I climbed any higher.

I hugged the metal and wiggled sideways, toward the main body of the airframe.

In the cockpit, Sil was pulling a flight suit over her naked body. A holographic chicken pointed to the controls, its beak mouthing instructions.

Upon seeing me, Sil let out an angry shriek, giving the steering yoke a hard turn to the right.

The wing dipped sharply, and I slipped down its length, my palms making that annoying purring noise as they lost traction.

My cell phone fell from its holster, dropping into the Mexican Strait.

I made a frantic scramble back to my original position, fighting against gravity as the wing alternated between pointing down and level, down and level, like someone shaking mud off of a boot.

Sil must have realized this effort was counterproductive to getting her close to the fireworks (which, incidentally, I could only see as flashes reflected off the airplane's shell) because the wing stabilized, and I saw her giving me the finger.

I could only cringe at what she would do to me once I reached the cockpit. Still, I had to make the attempt.

Now in a relatively more secure position, I made my way to the fuselage with haste.

The runner dangled loose from its rear post. I figured it would fall off the moment I put any weight on it, but the wing support strut remained intact. This I launched myself upon, reaching for the handle of the door hatch.

The hatch swung open on its own, and I found an orange gun pointing in my face.

I ducked, and nearly fell off as a blast of phosphor scalded me.

Flares. I slapped the burning embers until my dress stopped smoking.

Some flare guns can fire multiple rounds. Sil's gun had this capability, but I'd seen too many movies, so I automatically assumed it could only fire one at a time.

Boldly, I jumped on my attacker, the gun singeing my hair as it fired again.

My hands clamped on Sil's gun wielding arm like a koala on a tree branch. She clawed my face, but I made my mouth claw shoot out and bite her in the palms when she did.

I sunk my regular human teeth into her gun arm, yanking the flare pistol out of her grip as she flinched from the pain.

She reached for the gun at the same time I was shifting the handle into my hand, and our two hands accidentally bumped it into empty air. The weapon tumbled down into the city below.

Sil flailed her arm, attempting to shake me off, but I grabbed her around the neck and wouldn't let go until she bit me and shoved my head into the door frame.

Once free from my clutches, she punched and kicked me out the door.

I caught the wing support strut at the last minute.

As quick as I could, I rebounded, thrusting my feet into Sil's head. She spilled backwards into the passenger seat.

Her head hit the copilot's steering yoke. The plane tilted crazily to the left, throwing us both into the plane's interior. The shimmering horizon became a diagonal line, threatening to turn completely perpendicular.

"Nice flying, Sylvia!" said a cheerful sounding male voice that reminded me of Jeff Goldblum. " _But you might want to turn the control stick the other way to make the flight more level._ Just a suggestion."

Receiving no reply, the holographic chicken hovered around Sil's shoulder, appearing to observe our fight with interest.

The hologram appeared to be coming out of a chip in her arm, the three dimensionality achieved by reflecting off various nearby objects. "May I suggest some martial arts techniques?"

Dry land disappeared. Outside the windows, I could see only water.

"Yes, please," Sil said to the chicken.

"Very good. Do you intend to kill, or merely incapacitate?"

 _"Kill_ ," Sil growled.

Mr. Clucky's first helpful hint involved hitting me and turning the steering yoke to the opposite direction, letting the force of gravity drop me into the ocean. Since I wasn't deaf, we ended up slugging each other as we fought over the wheel, pulling each other's hair and yelling a lot.

The floating castle loomed larger, and I could see, by its many electric lights, that we overlooked a massive cruise ship, surrounded by smaller vessels and fancy looking barges, connected by enclosed bridges and tunnels and magnetic trains, the castle itself actually a collection of castles.

Sil cranked the control yoke to the right, and I tumbled to the open door.

I grabbed hold of the seat, attempting to climb up, but Sil hit me in the face with a first aid kit, stamped me in the head with both feet, and I fell screaming out the door.

At the last possible second, my hand caught hold of the door frame, my legs banging into the runner.

The first aid kit came down on my fingers, loosening my grip on the frame.

I grabbed the only thing within reach, the rudder with the broken strut.

Instead of supporting my weight, the rudder bent on its other strut, turning into a slippery vertical spear that groaned in protest as I scrambled up its surface.

When I reached the top of the rudder, the other strut snapped off, and I found myself suspended in the air by nothing.

Launching myself off the now useless aluminum rudder, I slapped my hands against the airplane's hull, then kept smashing my palms and feet to the metal until I reached the top, at level with the vertical stabilizer.

Now I saw details of the strange boat, the sails of the Jolly Roger, the open deck of the gigantic middle ship, rows of garishly colored shops and cottages, surrounded by people and suited figures.

The plane was tilted again, and I had to lay on my stomach and hang like a tree frog to stay on the plane.

It was slow going, but I eventually made it to good runner on the opposite side.

Sil, in the interest of not wrecking, righted the plane, and I could creep up alongside the cockpit.

It seemed my progress did not go unnoticed, for then gunshots came from the open cockpit hatch.

It seemed my enemy had found another gun in storage, this one the type that fires real bullets.

The first two ricocheted off the plane, the third blowing a hole in the fuel tank. Gasoline gushed from the hole.

The gun clicked empty. Sil tossed it into the drink.

Now unarmed, she climbed out on the runner to attack me.

She raised her leg and tried to knock me off the side, but I dove behind the wing support strut, and with a rather acrobatic move, swung around the bar, hitting her with both feet.

Sil's body bounced off the fuselage, nearly falling into the depths, had she not reached out for the runner at the last possible moment.

Before I knew what was happening, I found her hands clamped around my ankles, yanking me down over the side.

Still clinging to the wing struts, I unthinkingly kicked her in the face, again and again, until I had both feet free.

Her grip loosened, and she fell with a scream into the indiscernibly dark waves.

The plane listed to the right again. I clutched the strut for a moment, steeling myself for the dangerous task that lay ahead of me.

Considering the circumstances, I probably would have been better off just jumping after Sil into the dark water, risking the associated broken bones and whatnot. Instead, I had this optimistic thought that I could steer the damaged vehicle gently onto the boat somehow, or maybe overshoot the runway and attempt an amphibious landing.

I hurried down the narrow runner, jumping into the cockpit.

To my surprise, Mr. Clucky had remained with the vehicle. It seemed he had manifested himself through something in the control console. "I recommend turning the control yoke toward the left," he said as I climbed in the pilot's seat.

This I did, but it was too late.

The side of an enormous stone castle loomed into view, the forbidding dark stoned German kind that you expect Dracula, Frankenstein and evil witches to inhabit.

The chicken paused and clucked for a minute. " _Recalculating_...please turn the control yoke to the right."

I did so, but then noticed a warning light on the fuel gauge.

"I advised you not to fly this airplane for a long distance without repairs to the damaged fuel line. You failed to heed my instruction."

"It wasn't me!" I said as the engine sputtered. "It was the other girl!"

"That is unfortunate."

I cranked the yoke as far sideways as I could, but the plane was rapidly converting into a glider, the propellers slowing.

"There is still a chance of saving the vehicle," Mr. Clucky said. "Flip the activation switches on the laser propulsion unit above your head."

I did this, and the entire plane went dark.

"Oh dear. It seems you have overtaxed the electrical system."

"Oh yeah? Then what do _you_ run on?"

"My electrical usage is very slight, my young friend. I have been known to operate on as little power as a watch battery, so my contribution to your airplane's systems would be nominal at best."

Now two yards from the building.

"It's challenging, but with a few skilled maneuvers, this obstacle can be avoided, without damage to yourself, or your vehicle."

"Yeah? How."

"You must angle the nose downward, then turn the wheel at an angle."

"Wouldn't I just crash into the ground a lot faster?"

"Not if you start the engine..."

The digital creature frowned. " _Recalculating._ "

As the nose of the plane came within twelve inches of the wall, it said, "I am programmed to recite prayers from several world religions, including those on government ban. Would you like to hear one?"

[0000]

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611501

Personal Diary of Subject 78453760 ("Ernie")

* * *

[0000]

The helicopters were swiftly approaching. Soon they would be upon us, crushing any hope of escape.

"If the Lord wills it," I said to Pillow in my own tongue, "And if we find our reinforcements, I will return for you."

I nodded to my niece. "We can tarry here no longer."

"Agreed."

With that, we departed swiftly into the jungle.

About five yards out, we came across Mr. Jimenez.

The man, with one leg in a crude splint, bent over a bush of orange cannabis, sniffing the leaves and pocketing them.

He nearly jumped and fell on his bad leg when we approached.

"Jesus!"

"Amen," I said, raising my open arms. "We mean you no harm...What are you doing?"

He gave me a nervous laugh. "What does it look like? This shit will get me a month's rent...how come you don't have a leash?"

" _We're working on that_ ," said a voice behind me.

I spun around and saw Weyland pointing his gun at me.

Golic raised his arms in surrender.

"I see you've found your weapon," I said.

"Yeah. No thanks to you."

"Should I kill him?" Ssunamrozedrah hissed to me.

"No," I answered.

"What about me?" Golic responded in passable Ss'sik'chtokiwij.

I shook my head.

"Don't mind me," Weyland said. "I want to see where you're going in such a hurry."

"What do you plan to do with him?" Ssunamrozedrah said.

I replied, "It's a big jungle. He may yet stumble over something dangerous, or become slowed in the flora, at which point we will have the opportunity to overpower him without fear of encountering his soldiers, and failing that, we may still receive aid from your associates."

With that, we pushed on ahead.

About a quarter mile through this tropical wilderness, I witnessed a strange sight, an Abreya female and a brown haired human being in an ill fitting pilot's uniform being dragged along the ground by seemingly no one at all. These were, I presumed, the two responsible for our vehicle's crash.

The air rippled, and a pair of burly dreadlocked figures in armor materialized out of nowhere, growling something in an alien tongue with their crab mouths as they dumped their captives unceremoniously on the ground.

[0000]

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611602 (Ellie's Journal - Cont'd)

* * *

[0000]

The steering yoke jerked to the right, sending the nose of the plane through a mullioned window of stained glass, that, in the dark, seemed to blend in with the surrounding stone.

The leadened window shattered inwards, the plane careening into the pews of a decrepit old Catholic church, felling them like dominoes as the engine came down hard on the floor.

The floorboards splintered and broke apart, revealing a metal structure with wires a couple feet down.

The exposed strut on the right side got stuck somewhere, and the plane went into a spin. My head hit the windshield, and I flew through the air in a shower of safety glass, shattering a plaster statue of the Virgin Mary.

Its stand erupted in a geyser of blood as I thudded painfully into a little alcove behind it.

I blacked out for a minute, awaking to the sounds of eerie music and maniacal laughter.

The Virgin's votive candles flared like torches, as much over the top drama as the bleeding statue itself, the latter apparently an effect caused by red corn syrup fed through a mechanical pump.

An arm in a striped red and green sweater popped out of the broken plaster, flailing at me with a razor fingered steel and copper glove. I screamed, jumping back as I stared at the wiggling arm.

A few seconds later, the rest of it squirmed out, and I could see the stump of a metal joint, the wires and hydraulic tubing.

The rest of Freddy Krueger lay smashed beneath the plane, his burn scarred head twisted around backwards with sparks shooting out of his neck.

An evil sounding laugh echoed through the chapel, a structure, which I suddenly noticed, just so happened to be an exact replica of a set from _Nightmare on Elm Street Four: The Dream Child_.

A group of what I could only loosely describe as `touristy types' came wandering in through a roped off area at the other end of the chapel, muttering to each other and pointing at the mess, men and their underage spouses snapping pictures with their Google Glasses.

Animatronics! Of course!

It had to be a scary theme park attraction!

When I pieced together what had happened, I burst out laughing and brushed myself off, slipping out the door the rest of the crowd departed through.

I entered a spooky mansion hallway lined with framed mirrors of all shapes and sizes, recalling the final scene from _Dream Warriors_ , another _Elm Street_ film.

The floor was gummy and hard to walk on, an effect simulating the surreal chase scene from the first movie, rather than the third. I supposed a few creative liberties had to be taken to make a theme park haunted house like this sufficiently scary.

In case you're wondering, my parents and I watched horror movies together quite a bit. They had a weird sense of humor, I guess. Either that, or they had been preparing me for military applications, even then.

Whatever their reasoning may have been, I spent a lot of time sleeping in their bed with the lights on, _or,_ _on a folding army cot adjacent to their bed._

By then, though, I had learned that the scariest things in this world didn't wear masks or rubber suits.

The floor was slanted, but I wondered if the shaky feeling in my legs had more to do with the whole structure floating off the coast of Texas.

I turned a corner, entering the hallway of a mental institution. A holographic tricycle rolled across my path, leaving behind a trail of blood. Through the open doorway of one of the wards, the windows of a model of Freddy's house lit up. A duct tape Freddy voodoo doll scampered across the tile floor.

People who wore Google Glasses flinched and turned at odd times, gasping or laughing at something, perhaps a captured soul or a ghost of a dead girl playing jump rope.

"Was that your plane?" a man asked me. "The one that smashed through the window?"

"No." I shoved past a Goth lesbian married couple.

An oversized mirror with no glass took me to a crumbling staircase, through a maze of skeletal bodies on meat hooks, and through a dining room where a large Kahlua pig tried to bite me as I hurried by.

"Wasn't Freddy Krueger a child molester?" a boy asked his adult husband.

"It's _child lover_ , Dinah," said his spouse. "Don't say the M word. It's as bad as calling someone a fag. And no, Freddy was a _child killer._ "

I suddenly felt ill.

In the next room we found a huge Freddy headed snake. A couple park employees, dressed in red and black sweaters, helped us, one by one, into its gaping maw, which turned out to be a slide to a boiler room.

"Isn't that the girl who crashed the plane through the window?" a woman asked, prompting me to shove through the crowd more quickly.

"Wait," said someone else. "Is that the girl who kidnapped the child bride and killed that piracy cop?"

I sucked in my breath. I had hoped the man with the fire extinguisher would have only been sent to the hospital.

I'd murdered someone else. As horrible as the people were, it was still murder. I suppressed a sob as I thought about it, begging Jesus to forgive me.

I shoved between a guy in a girly raccoon costume and a man in a furry bear suit, hoping they weren't interested in a citizen's arrest.

I passed through a shower room where the faucets turned into claws and Freddy popped up in the steamy mirror to scare us, a junkyard pit filled with blazing fires and a moving skeleton, and a tour through Freddy's intestinal tract, the faces of his victims screaming at us from their flesh wall as we passed them.

This Hollywood version of hell twisted around into another, an attic room filled with dangling chains and glowing lights coming through slats in its poorly boarded walls. _Hellraiser's_ Pinhead made an appearance, as well as its other characters, the ghoulish thing with the chomping teeth and the guy with all the skin peeled off his body.

In the next room, a church, Pinhead mocked the crucifixion by pushing worm covered nails through his palms. People took pictures, but few truly understood the symbolism.

They had that horrible rotating pillar with the faces and chains all over it, and rooms from the party house from _Hellraiser: Hellworld_.

I got lost in a maze of concrete archways, and somehow found myself in a storage room full of dark red robes, small skulls and ritual objects, candelabrum, incense burners, staffs topped with golden symbols, and brass candle lighter/bell snuffers.

I didn't know if this were part of a movie or attraction, but the robes came with hooded cowls, which I thought might keep me from being recognized.

I pulled on a robe my size, tying the rope around my waist like Friar Tuck.

When a door squeaked open in the back of the room, I nearly peed my pants.

I dove into a rack full of robes, watching as an elderly man with Germanic features came in, stripping off his red jumpsuit.

After donning a robe, he marched up to me. "Foolish boy! Stop screwing around and get out here!"

With cowl pulled over my face, I stumbled out, and he shoved a candle lighter into my hands. "Moloch is not a god to be trifled with! You'd be wise to remember that!"

He marched out the door, leaving me staring at the employees only sign with the light stick in my hand.

Cautiously, I set down the stick and tried the door. Unlocked.

Beyond, I found a pillar lined stone corridor. The stone appeared to be fake, as it made a strange hollow sound when I walked on it.

The corridor stretched on for several feet, both to the left and the right of me. I made a foray in the `right' direction.

About two yards down, I heard footsteps, low chanting, and a muffled wail.

I ducked into a little recess, behind a statue of Aleister Crowley.

A procession of robed figures traveled past my hiding spot, holding aloft their golden icons, waving incense as they chanted, pairs of them carrying leather bags on small litters, bags that squirmed and made animal sounds as the procession continued onward.

A man dressed like the Witch King from _The Black Cauldron_ marched at the head of this gathering, skull mask, deer antlers sticking out of his cowled head.

I waited for them to pass me by, then slowly crept behind to observe, hiding behind pillars every few feet just to make sure I wasn't caught.

A small temple lay at the end of the tunnel, bedecked with occult symbols. A towering gold statue of a naked man dominated the room, serenely holding aloft a giant bowl with one hand, his other spread wide to display a handful of coins. A fiery altar blazed between his legs.

The Witch King chanted something in a foreign language, Babylonian, perhaps, then spoke at length about how Moloch needed an offering to bless the Order with prosperity, that The Nation's problem with poverty and inflation was due to their failing to appease Moloch, but Moloch would prosper them personally if they brought him the type of offering that pleased him, the blood of the first to breach the womb. I guess the abortion meats displeased the god hungry for baby flesh.

A pair of robed figures produced a screaming baby from one of the bags, and the Witch King gutted him like a fish, dumping the blood into a wooden bowl at the statue's feet.

I covered my mouth in horror.

No crowds, no visible cameras, no windows, no indication that this was done for show, or some kind of staged performance with animatronic babies and fake blood. Granted, _it still could have been_ , but it seemed unlikely somehow.

The terrible thing was, with all that horror movie stuff around the site, no one would believe you if you told someone. All I could do was run away.

Despite my earlier performance on the plane, I'm not a superhero. I was pretty sure I could die. I was also outnumbered.

I wasn't put where I was to stop some cult, especially when it could be construed as merely some movie production with fake babies and hidden cameras.

I was there to stop Sil, meet with the team, and go home. That's it. That's all I was supposed to do.

That's all I wanted to do.

I mean, I wasn't just up against a cult, I was up against a corrupt criminal justice system, a permissive society, an `anything goes' type of government.

This wasn't my country. It never was.

Now, more than ever, I didn't belong here, and no one _wanted_ me to belong.

As I had observed from my hiding spot in the dressing room, red jumpsuit people were everywhere, and I was a wanted fugitive. I had to pick my battles, or end up crushed beneath the wheels of the New American establishment.

Plus, honestly, _Americans were already eating bacon made from human fetuses_. How was this any different?

A door at the opposite end of the corridor led to a dungeon crypt filled with a lot of fake skeletons and bloody mannequins, the effect like an homage to the Tower of London.

Judging by the random amusement of the crowds staring at apparently nothing, it probably would have been a lot less tame, had I been wearing my Google Glass, but I'd left it in my suitcase back at the airport.

I wasn't the only person in a red robe, so I didn't draw any comments.

I pushed through another employee's only door, entering a rogues' gallery of horror movie characters, Jason Voorhees and his mother, the masked guy from _Scream_ , _Shocker_ , the Alligator Woman from _The Grudge_ , the creepy girl from _The Ring_ , updated Universal Studios favorites like Frankenstein, The Creature from the Black Lagoon, Dracula, The Wolfman, and The Mummy, among a whole slew of other monsters.

The crowds were small, but that was to be expected at, what, two in the morning?

Funny, I thought. They used to kick you out of parks like this at a certain hour, to tidy up.

I nearly knocked over Pumpkinhead trying to reach the non-employee area, coming close to perforating my foot with a _Puppetmaster_ doll. Some shoes would have been nice.

I skirted a display of Gizmo and the Gremlins, joining up with the `park guests.'

A ramp took us down a floor, where cartoony looking animatronic skeletons danced to _Mr. Ghost Goes to Town_ and a creepy sounding version of _Ievan Polkka_. It would have been scary, except they shook their pelvises too much and gave the impression of undead Village People trying to dance.

The connecting hallway held a 3D animatronic _Thriller_ video, and then, past that, the scary stuff became even more tame, with an interactive _Ghostbusters_ ghost trapping arena (Google Glasses and light guns) a spooky forest and `haunted castle' filled with less than frightening ghosts, people dressed like wolves and Disney witches. Kids in black YME style dresses and mouse ears looked miserable as they picked up trash and cleaned the closed off areas.

After getting lost a few times, I made it outside, staring at my surroundings in bewilderment.

The building I had just departed from was called `The Incorrectly Practicing Wiccan's Castle,' politically correct baloney, if you ask me.

Directly ahead of me lay `Friendship Town,' the rows of cottages I'd seen from the plane.

It had lightened a little, the sun making its first appearance in the sky. A pity that the sun couldn't penetrate the moral darkness of the place.

In fact, right across from the castle, I saw something called `The Mickey Mouse Club,' which advertised, in bright neon signs, "Live Boys, Twelve and Under." The heavy beats of suggestive dance music thundered from within.

It was a blessing not to see through those opaque windows. I wished I could feed Mickey some D-Con.

Up above, a monorail made a circuit around this massive boat, disappearing behind Cinderella's castle to who knows where, only to emerge from the opposite side a few minutes later.

Also above, I saw a freeway where people drove sports cars around, probably the only place in America you could still legally do that.

To my left stood a replica of Hogwarts and a Quiddich field. To my right, Hobbit holes and a big sign that read `The Gods of Middle Earth.'

I kinda thought Middle Earth was monotheistic, but the Mickey Mouse Club wasn't supposed to be a place for strippers, either.

I sat down on a bench, trying to figure out what to do.

I couldn't tell if Sil were dead or not. That drop in the ocean could have killed her, she could have drowned, but she could have just as easily swam up to the ship and climbed aboard.

I had no way to communicate with the team, no way to give them updates. I didn't have my stuff.

They had all the mascot characters I expected to see in a Disney theme park, Mickey, Goofy, Lilo and Stitch, Minions, that purple alien thing, Frozen, the Hawaiian cartoon, Winnie the Pooh, Tigger, Buzz Lightyear, and so forth, but only half of them wore the traditional costumes.

Grown men posed with scantily clad Disney princesses, taking selfies.

One of the Mickey Mice looked like a gimp suit with mouse ears and a mask, the Tigger I saw merely a man in orange and black striped leotards, like an extra from _CATS_. Both types of mascots waved at passerby from their little houses, only a smidgen more accurate than some of their costumes...unless they were from some _On Ice_ production I wasn't aware of.

I checked a horoscope machine, but the moment I pressed my palm to it, it said it was out of order.

I returned to the bench, not realizing I'd drifted off until I felt someone shaking me.

"Hey," said a female voice. "You're not supposed to sleep here."

I groggily rubbed my eyes.

The woman was dressed like Daisy Duck, but in a weird way. Instead of a cartoony mascot head, I saw a human one, with bleached white spiked up hair, a big bow, and a plastic beak covering her nose and mouth.

She wore a purple dress top with princess sleeves, one that cut off at the midriff, showcasing her feathery bikini and shiny orange leggings. She sat on her tail feathers.

"Sorry," I groaned. "It's been a long night."

"I'll bet." She offered a hand. "Charon."

"Ellie," I blurted, then, realizing my blunder, I added, "Jessica."

Charon chuckled, giving me a handshake. "Nice to meet you, _Ellie Jessica_. Would you like me to show you to a hotel?"

I nodded, then shook my head. "I don't have any money."

I couldn't see the mouth, but the eyes seemed sympathetic. "What happened, you could only pay for the ticket?"

I nodded.

"Did you try asking your friends in the Order?"

"I can't go back there! I won't!"

She put a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Tell you what. I know just the place you can go for a little rest. It's a bit of a walk, but you won't mind, will you?"

I shrugged. " _I guess not._ "

Charon lit a cigarette, sticking it in her beak.

She inhaled deeply. "There's a poem that says, `For the world's more full of weeping than you can ever understand.' I can't remember how the rest of it went, but what did the asshole know about it anyway?"

I had no words to say in reply.

Charon took another drag, rubbed the burning end out on the bench, stowing the remains of the cigarette in her beak. "Word to the wise: Do not litter. They charge guests a hundred dollars a pop for discarded trash not put in a receptacle."

A rough but slender hand grabbed mine, leading me ahead.

We passed by something called The Museum of Tolerance, which had a statue of someone named Saint Olaf in front of it, a brass plaque describing how the Norseman chose to die rather than convert to Christianity. I wished more people would recognize that inquisitors are no more true Christians than Timothy McVeigh was a true American, but it seemed the country was fond of dumping the baby out with the bath water, unless proper seasoning ingredients were added.

A sign next to the door read, `The Horrors of Religion,' but I doubted they gave a single thought to what took place in that castle just a few blocks from their location.

"There's a Hobbit area in this park," I said to the woman. "Is there a Narnia place, too?"

The woman frowned. "You can't afford a place to sleep, but you want to buy cocaine and vibrating butt plugs?"

I blanched. "Never mind."

A few yards down, I saw something called the Past Lives Pavilion, where people sat in simulation rigs, experiencing life in the twentieth century and early twenty first. Even at this hour, they enjoyed immense popularity (especially the fifties, eighties and 2018), making me think that people unconsciously liked the way things were in the "old days", but were too afraid of the juggernaut of politically correct modern culture.

Either that, or someone had rewritten the past to suit popular tastes.

"Any particular reason you're hiding behind that hood?" Charon asked me as we passed Toad Hall.

"I'm not sure I can trust you well enough for that," I said.

The woman laughed. "I'll let you in on a little secret. _Your friend Caitlyn sent me_. _She gave me your Afexun ID and told me where to look for you._ She said she was worried that you wouldn't have a place to stay."

I swallowed. "She said all that?"

Charon nodded. "She even forwarded some money to pay for your lodgings. You're lucky to have a good friend like that."

She pulled my cowl back, staring at me. "Into the Goth thing, huh?"

"Yeah," I muttered, pulling the hood back down.

"Let's find you a place to stay. _You look so tired._ "

I suddenly felt uncomfortable. "I'm still looking for my friend Sylvia. I should really go find her first."

"What's she look like? Maybe I can help. _I'm very good at finding things..._ "

I didn't have my phone to show her a picture, so I just described her the best I could. "She's like a mom to me," I lied.

"I'll try my best to find her while you're getting some rest."

We came to a stop in the lavish front walkway of something called The Bird Palace.

I stared at the large topiary birds and a fountain decorated with sculptural images of animated birds, Daisy and Donald in the center, spraying water out of their beaks.

Large brass swans with glittering faux gems for eyes flanked the doors to the front lobby, the building itself tall and white with bird gargoyles around its balconies, roofs and terraces.

Charon led me through the glass revolving door, into a lobby filled with avian imagery. The sofas looked like hollowed out headless swans with seat cushions stuffed in their body cavities, oddly plush and comfortable.

At the check-in desk, a woman with a duck bill, a white wig and a long white scifi movie style dress asked to see my hand.

When I refused, Charon pulled my hood back and said I was Caitlyn's friend.

The clerk nodded like this was all right, waving to the swan sofas. "Have a seat. Room 202 will be ready in fifteen minutes."

I was tired, so I did what I was told, resting my head on a feathery armrest that looked like a wing.

Charon shook me awake a few minutes later. "It's ready."

The clerk made a great show of handing my new companion a key. "Your room is 202, the Betina Beakley Suite. Enjoy your stay at the Bird Palace."

We took an elevator up one floor, walking down a hallway decorated with bird themed animation cells and duck silhouette trim and carpeting.

A brass head of a different cartoon bird hung above the peephole on every door, a bearded Scottish duck here, Darkwing there, a vampire duck somewhere else.

Charon swiped the hotel key of a door with the fat maid from Ducktales on it.

The moment the door came open, I knew I'd made a mistake.

Inside the most luxurious hotel room I'd ever seen in my life, three Disney police officers aimed weapons at me.

Before I could turn around and run, the door to the Morgana Suite came open, and I got shoved into a wall, hands cuffed behind my back as a voice read me my Miranda rights.

"Sorry, kid," Charon said. " _You should never trust anyone who plays NERV._ "

Bird woman left me, and I got forcefully thrown on the king bed, wherein one of the cops, a heavy one, decided to sit on me.

That's how I laid for what felt like an hour, the cops eating Chinese food, drinking beer and playing poker.

The door came open, and I heard a familiar voice saying, "Well lookie here! _Our little escape artist!_ Let's see you get out of this one, you little shit!"

A hand lifted my skirt, slapped my butt.

And then I saw the face.

Fat nose, oily brown skin, head bandage from where the pickle jar had hit him. He still wore his Michael Jackson suit. "You, little girl, just earned your way into big time felony. We're tacking murder charges on top of your piracy. You'll be working off that bail for the rest of your natural life!"

"Send me to prison already!" I growled. "I'm not working for you."

The man laughed. "You got some brass _cajones_ under that skirt! Non, no, _puta pequeño_ , _Disney's paying your bail._ Your ass is mine, honey!"

He unbuckled his belt. "But, you know, I'm kinda in a generous mood. Let's say you give me some good _head_. Maybe I knock a couple hundred off your ever growing tab."

"No!" I yelled. "I won't do it!"

The man waved the other cops out of the room, leaving the one sitting on my back, to keep me from moving.

Hombre Blanco grabbed my chin. "You're a feisty one. _I like that about you_. I _love_ girls that got spirit. Makes them fun to break." And he slapped me across the face.

He dropped his pants, kneeling in front of me in his underwear. "Since you didn't like my original deal, how `bout we sweeten it a little? Let's say you suck me off right now, and I won't slit your fucking throat. How about that, little bitch?"

He nodded to his companion, and I felt a knife pressing against my throat.

"You like how I used your little friend to get you?" the man asked as he unzipped his fly. "I used to play NERV too. You'd be _amazed_ what you can get people to do for the right amount of money!"

When the man yanked his underwear off and brought his thing up to my face, I could take no more abuse.

I opened my mouth, shredding through his genitals with my claw.

The knife dug into my neck, but it didn't stop me. I didn't even feel it.

My rapist let out a most unmanly scream as blood gushed from his crotch.

A moment later, a billy club came crashing down on my head, and everything went dark.

I awoke naked in what appeared to be a large dog cage, on a pile of hairy rags that smelled of urine. I itched from jumping fleas and bedbug bites.

The whole area, in fact, was a sort of kennel, kids in animal cages all around me. The towering machinery and massive pipes told me we lay near the ship's engines.

Burly men with guns and tasers and clubs guarded us. It would be a challenge to sneak past them, even if I knew how to get out.

I touched my neck and felt scabs growing where the cuts had been.

"They got you too, huh?" I heard Josh saying.

A glance told me I wasn't the only one lying naked in squalor. "How'd _you_ end up in here?"

"I made the mistake of talking to a mascot. What about you?"

I told him about what happened.

"God. That sucks. Glad you're alive, at least...Did he rape you?"

I shuddered. "I...I don't know."

He, Press and the others had taken a private jet to the coast, boarding the Magic Kingdom via motorboat, provided by our _mutual friend_ , Charon. They exchanged money and information for the night passage, but she double crossed them.

The children and adults got detained separately, so Josh didn't know what happened to the others.

"Where's Kamara?"

I heard groaning in the cage next to me. " _Caitlyn!_ We should have ditched that backstabber the moment she first showed up!"

That's when I heard a voice in the cage behind me saying, "They offered me half a million to do it. Would _you_ turn that down?"

"Yes!" I and my friends yelled in unison.

"Serves you right," Josh laughed as he noticed Caitlyn's sorry state.

"What. _I only have to do this for a week and I get the rest of the million._ "

"Are you sure?" I asked. "I mean, who's going to put cameras down here? Disney would get in trouble with the law. You're not going to see any of the money."

"We're technically not in the United States," Kamara said. "There's nothing anyone can do. Disney has enough power and influence to crush whatever negative publicity that comes out of this."

I sighed, glancing pleadingly at Josh. "Please tell me you have a lock pick."

He gave me a helpless shrug. "Look at me. Where could I have hidden it? Up my ass?"

"What about Nemo?" I said. "Where is he?"

"I don't know. I think they threw him overboard."

"If anyone has any suggestions, I'd be glad to hear them."

"I have one," a uniformed man said as he yanked my cell door open. "Shower time!"

He blasted me with a fire hose.


	27. Chapter 27: Mouschwitz

The man, satisfied that I had been soaked to the bone, tossed me a black Disney uniform, some mouse ears, and some underwear that itched when I put them on. "Uniforms and water usage are being added to your bill."

"Do we get to eat?" Kamara asked as she pulled on her dress.

" _Only if you want it added to your bill._ "

"Indentured servitude," I said. "Great."

"Do you need those too? I'd be happy to add false teeth to your tab."

"Idiot," I muttered.

 _"I'm the idiot?_ Who's sleepin' in a cage, missy?"

" _Fine,_ " Kamara groaned. "You have us at a disadvantage. Food, please."

"I'm not wearing mouse ears," Josh said.

"You will wear mouse ears when we tell you to wear mouse ears," the man replied.

Our guards led us out of our cages by gunpoint, marching us to a dingy mildew smelling cafeteria with rust covered walls wet with condensation.

We got in a line with other kids, and uniformed kitchen staff plopped something that looked like dog food into our waiting trays.

I tasted it. It _was_ dog food.

I followed Josh and Kamara to a table, setting my tray down next to a red haired kid.

Caitlyn wanted to sit next to us, but I just rolled my eyes and pretended like she wasn't there. My friends did the same.

Undeterred, she took a place right next to me.

I sighed, swallowing a forkful of dog food. It didn't matter what I wanted to eat, this was survival.

"Do you remember that scene from _Pinocchio_ where the kids who played hookie ended up growing tails and donkey ears?" I asked between bites.

The redhead looked depressed. "You work the strip club, too?"

We cleaned up, because we had to.

That was the last time I saw my friends for the rest of the day.

The armed men separated into different lines, and the aquiline featured man from the Moloch cult scanned our palms, one by one, frowning at the results on his tablet computer.

The prettier kids got taken out of line and led down a wide hallway at the far end of the cafeteria.

I guess I didn't qualify. I continued with the kids who remained, entering a different gray corridor, one which branched off in three directions.

Here the smart looking kids disappeared down the north tunnel, while the rest of us got herded onward.

Once my palm got scanned, they shoved me down the right tunnel, where I had my first introduction to Unity Wind Farms.

It turned out the Magic Kingdom drew its electrical power through a variety of sources, including, but not limited to, the labor of children.

The farm was large and gunmetal gray, its vast space packed, from end to end, by stationary exercise bikes with electrical generators attached to the wheels, every single one of them manned by a feverishly pedaling child, faces and bodies damp with the perspiration of their efforts.

Everyone in my group got assigned one of these machines, relieving the pitiful exhausted wretches practically dead on their little seats.

I saw a man flogging a child in front of my stationary bike. The boy whimpered and sobbed for help, but the other kids were cuffed to their bikes, and the adults didn't care.

They compelled me to take my place on the boy's bike.

"The rules are simple," said a tall muscular bald man in a striped shirt and a blonde goatee. "Keep the bike going at a minimal of five miles per at all times. You earn ten dollars per mile, with bonus credit added the longer you can pedal above five MPH. If you need to go to the bathroom signal someone and, for a fee, we'll give you a diaper. Water is dispensed from the handlebars. Questions?"

"How much are you charging for the water?" I asked.

"Don't be a smartass."

I climbed onto the bike, and they cuffed me to the handlebars. The cuffs came standard. By the looks of it, these machines had been manufactured with child slavery in mind.

They had something like a guinea pig water bottle in the middle, one that I had to lean forward to drink from.

The readout on my bike told me my speed, the amount of electricity I generated, and the amount of money I earned, currently zero.

I didn't see Kamara or Josh or Caitlyn anywhere. I could only hope they'd been conscripted into Mickey's Sanitation Department, and not forced into some kind of sexual slavery.

In the rear of this sweatshop, a bearded Indian Maharishi in a turban stood at a podium below a giant Yin-Yang symbol with a Star of David superimposed over it, reading passages out of a book in dull monotone. "You are children of the universe. All suffering is an illusion. Concentrate on the image of fire. Let the power of Vishnu channel through you. You are Vishnu, and Vishnu is you. You are not exhausted, you are full of the energy of Vishnu, the power of Shiva. Your exhaustion is an illusion, your weakness is an illusion..." And so on, and so forth, ad infinitum.

"What's with the Indian guy?" I hissed to a girl pedaling next to me.

"No talking!" the bald man shouted. "Do it again and you'll get flogged!"

"This place is classified as a non-profit religious organization," said the redhead kid I met at breakfast.

He immediately got flogged for speaking out.

The rules were deceptive. When I maintained six MPH, they changed the bonus to seven. When I reached ten, they changed it to twenty.

I received cheering when I first achieved a higher speed (but never afterwards), angry yelling when I slowed.

I reached sixty before tiring and dropping down to ten.

Despite all the metaphysical empowerment speeches, every minute scores of children got tired and stopped pedaling, and despite all the threats of abuse and threats of being moved to the arena of sexual services, they stopped moving, and the men whipped them mercilessly.

I lasted longer than most, and even drew the attention of the other slavemasters with my above average performance, but I couldn't keep pedaling forever. At the end of the first two hours, my speed dropped to five miles an hour, and no amount of yelling or whipping could get me to go faster.

When I reached the third and fourth hour, I had difficulty even doing five.

At last, when I could pedal no further, they pulled me off the bike and beat me, again and again and again.

"Get up off of that floor!" barked the bald man. "Unless you want to start earning money on your knees and back!"

"... _Can't!_ " I gasped with tears running down my face.

"Take her away," he growled to a man with a scarred face. "I'm sure HR will think of something _extra special_ to do with her!"

I screamed as a pair of men dragged me away.

[0000]

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DOCUMENT ID #0007410116194797 (Personal Diary of Dan Smithson)

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[0000]

I get carsick real easy. I knew it was gonna be trouble the moment Press mashed the accelerator button.

I brought along Dramamine for the occasion, but when the van started doing all that fast driving and weaving...oh my God.

"Can someone please explain what the fuck is going on?" Nemo asked.

Back in the old days, people used to make kids wash out their mouths with soap when they talked like that.

That was before Mr. Kittycunt, and his hit song about how it's okay to tell someone `Fuck you.'

"That information is classified," Kamara told him, but Caitlyn, who kept sticking her little nose everywhere it didn't belong, told him, "These people are working on a secret government program involving aliens, and they just let one escape."

As we spoke, little Ellie was running around with one of those super fast skateboard things, trying to catch said alien.

"That's awesome!" Nemo said.

 _"Not as awesome as you might think_ ," Xavier muttered.

A puddle jumper was on the move. Sil had somehow figured out how to pilot things.

My guess is that she learned how to pilot the helicopter in Weyland's island by trial and error, and now that she knew something about operating that, she could more easily figure out the navigation systems other things.

Our vehicle swerved, ramming against the plane, but we failed to clip its wings. The plane was already in the air.

The plane's runner hit us, and before I knew it, our van came crashing on its side, our android and the kids falling all over the compartment because they didn't have seatbelts.

The plane got further and further away from us.

Press swore as he opened the driver's side window, now above his head, popping out to fire at the plane's tail.

He only shot at it once, for then he mentioned seeing Ellie hanging from the bottom of the wing. He swore some more.

"God!" Laura cried as she looked out the window. "That girl's going to kill herself!"

The kids were okay, just a little shaken up. We all climbed out the driver's window.

The moment my feet hit the tarmac, I threw up.

Laura put a hand on my back, looking at me with concern. "Are you all right?"

I nodded. "Just got carsick, that's all."

Xavier took out his phone, reading the display. "If our girl can stay with Sil, we have a chance of keeping up with her. Let's find a chopper. We don't have a second to lose!"

Press made a beeline for a dark colored Bell 222. We all crammed into its black leather seats as the rotors slowly brought the propellers to lifting speed.

When we first took to the air, Press seemed overconfident, whistling the theme song to _Airwolf_ as we followed the plane.

But then the plane's laser propulsion system flared up, and Sil got away from us.

Laura leaned over the front passenger seat, gasping as she watched the plane. "Jesus! She's still hanging on the wing!"

"Remarkable, isn't she?" Xavier said. "I definitely think she has the best chance of capturing our subject."

 _"If she doesn't die first!"_ Laura complained. "This has gone far enough. We _have_ to get her down from there! Press, can you get us any closer to that plane?"

Our pilot was already pushing the engines pretty hard. "I can try," he said through gritted teeth. "Airwolf this isn't."

"What's Airwolf?" she asked.

"It's on the Classic TV stream. I'll send you a link sometime."

We tried to keep up, but Sil's laser propulsion was faster than our jet engines. The distance grew between our vehicles, Sil's plane shrinking to the size of a golf ball, then a penny from our lagging perspective.

"Is she still on the plane?" Laura asked.

Press gave her a thumbs up, pointed to the computerized readout. "I'm going solely by her RFID. Unless she's sprouted wings, she's till on that plane!"

Laura glanced out a side window. "That looks like the Mexican Strait. Why are we going this way?"

"I don't know. That's something you should ask Sil."

That's when I caught a glimpse of a firework shaped like the Fantastic Four logo. "Look!"

Mr. Arden laughed. "The Mouse Armada! Of course!" He stared at the sparkling phosphor image of Tinkerbell. "Sil may look like an adult, but her mental growth is stunted. What better place for a big kid to visit?"

"Disneyland," I muttered. "I didn't know they were making a stopover in this area."

"She's not going to find any mates," Laura muttered. "They have a Gay Pride promotion going all this month. _Deep_ discounts."

 _"If there's a will, there's a way,"_ Press joked.

He glanced at the gauges, then frowned. "Bad news, people. _We're out of fuel._ Gotta take her down."

"Isn't there any way we can push the engines just a little bit further?" Xavier asked.

Press shook his head. "If we don't refuel soon, we're going to drop into the Strait."

"It's either that, or _that girl_ falls into the Strait."

"Sorry, babe. It's not happening." He called the nearest air strip, and we circled for a landing a few minutes later.

The place was called Higher Plane. A giant Buddha statue sat out front between the landing areas, surrounded by planes and a couple choppers.

"What now?" Laura asked as we climbed out. "Are we going to wait for the refueling, or can we take another chopper?"

Press glanced around and sighed. "This isn't a Weyland property. We can't just grab a random helicopter and fly off. We need permission from the owners, unless you want to get arrested again."

Our android froze, making bird-like twitches with her head. "Owners of both helicopters not responding to communication. We have permission to borrow a Bonanza G36. Unfortunately, landings at Dumbo Drop International require an appointment and special clearance credentials. Unauthorized landings are not recommended, for they possess anti-aircraft weaponry."

"I've heard rumors about that," Arden said. "Supposedly they disguise it with fireworks."

"Lovely," Press groaned.

Laura frowned and crossed her arms. "Anti-aircraft weapons or not, I don't like the idea of getting blown up with fireworks."

"What about a _motorboat_?" Caitlyn asked.

We all stared at her.

I hadn't noticed it before, but Caitlyn had a tiny drone crawling on her shoulder. It looked and acted like a fly, so I hadn't noticed until she started speaking to it with her Google Glasses on. "All right, peeps. 9-1 pleekew. Boat: Where?"

A glowing icon appeared on her arm. "`Kew."

To Press, she said, "`Scored us some wheels. Here in fifteen."

"I could refuel in half that time," Press muttered.

"You wanna get blown up?"

He sighed. "So where are we supposed to wait for these _wheels?_ "

She led us to a bench outside the airport, where we impatiently waited the designated amount of time. Xavier checked his phone and found Ellie still moving on a straight course for the Disney barge.

At last, our vehicle arrived.

Our `ride' turned out to be a horse drawn carriage designed to look like a giant pumpkin.

"Oh my God."

"You have got to be fucking joking!" Press cried.

Laura frowned. "I thought those were illegal. Animal rights and all."

Arden smiled. "Not for Homeschoolers."

"If a Homeschooler did this, I'll eat my hat."

Kamara pointed to the image of a castle embossed on the door. "It's a Disney coach. Plus NERV games frequently break the law."

A man in a black suit sat in the coachman's seat, reigns in hand. "Party of Onedozenstarvingcrazedweasels8806, now boarding!"

Feeling stupid, we climbed aboard the thing, kids sitting on our laps due to the lack of seat space.

About ten minutes later, we arrived at a Tiki themed boat house decorated with fiberglass characters from Disney's Tale Spin.

A woman in a feathery bikini, orange tights, and a plastic beak awaited us at a dock inside the wooden structure, smoking a cigarette. She introduced herself as Charon.

"That's an interesting name," Big Bird said with a slight smirk. "The boatman of Hell. Oddly appropriate, for we request transportation to the underworld."

When no one laughed, she added, "That was a joke."

"Tee hee," Kamara said, just to humor her.

Charon immediately started asking questions about who we were and what we were doing there. We answered most of these questions as diplomatically as we could, informing her that the information was classified.

"I don't have to let you on my boat. A little information is all I ask."

Xavier answered her objection by saying he'd give her more information if and when the boarded the Disney barge.

Once that had been established, the woman ushered us into a Cobalt speedboat christened the `Admiral Duck.'

The boat's motor was fast and powerful, but we'd been delayed too long. As we sped through the choppy waves, Xavier announced that the plane had already neared the barge, and a little too quickly for a safe landing.

I'm almost one hundred percent certain we'd been delayed on purpose, so people watching NERV could see a good plane crash...or maybe a half human alien killing someone in the middle of a sex act.

We convinced Charon to steer us close to Ellie's location, but before we could get within range, a female body came falling into the water.

"It's Sil!" Xavier cried. "Quickly! We must search the area!"

"Not until I get some intel, and some sort of payment," Charon said.

"That woman that just fell into the water is part extraterrestrial," Xavier said. "That's all I'm going to tell you at this time."

"We'll pay you at the barge," said Press. "Right now-"

Before he could finish the thought, we heard a loud crash coming from the direction of the barge.

Laura started at the sound, eyes riveted at the trail of smoke coming out of one of the fake castles. "Ellie!"

Xavier frowned at his phone, tapping the display. "She's gone."

"No!" Kamara sobbed.

Josh tried his best to be apologetic, patting the girl on the back.

"That's a real shame," Press muttered. "She was a good kid."

"I don't think she's dead," I blurted. "I don't know what that screen says, but I can sense when people are dying. I think she might be okay."

Everyone looked at me like I were an optimistic fool, but I couldn't argue with what I felt.

"Well," Xavier said. "Let's motor around and see if we can find Sil."

The boat came equipped with a sonar fish finder and high power LED floodlights, but after an hour we came up with nothing.

"All right, that's enough," Charon said as we circled the same spot for the third time. "I require payment for services rendered."

"Fine, fine," Xavier sighed, taking out his phone.

He typed something on the virtual keypad, then touched his palm chip to Charon's.

"I'll pay you extra once we-"

Xavier scowled at the screen with an expression of shocked disbelief. "There was _money_ in that account! I had more than fifty grand! I swear to God, I had money!"

Charon's beak appeared to grin at him. " _I know._ "

"What!" he cried in outrage. "What is the meaning of this!"

That's when we heard the sound of other motorboats.

There were four of them, Munson patrol boats like the police use, all converging on ours.

"Would someone please tell me what the hell is going on?" Arden asked.

Press crossed his arms. " _I have a few guesses._ "

"There was a popular song about Charon the Ferryman," Big Bird said. "The lyrics stated that you should not to pay him until securely on the other side."

 _"So it's not just a name._ "

Our boat was escorted, ironically enough, to a mobile boat house at the rear of the Jolly Roger.

A group of armed men in police uniforms and Disney badges led us up a dock, into a place that looked just like a real police station. Considering how Disney is the biggest entertainment conglomerate on the planet, it wasn't too surprising that they could buy all the trappings of an actual police department.

"What's this about?" Press asked one of the officers.

Instead of answering, the cops handcuffed us and read us our rights, forcing us into a row of plastic chairs with embossed mouse heads on them.

Somehow, Nemo managed to walk away from all this without getting cuffed, sneaking out the entrance, but the rest of us waited a good ten to fifteen minutes in those hard uncomfortable chairs.

"I did my doctoral thesis on the sociology of prisons," Arden muttered.

" _Marvy_ ," Press groaned. "Got anything that can help us out here?"

Steve only shrugged.

A man and two ladies came by, leading Josh, Kamara and Caitlyn away from us.

"Hey!" Laura protested. "Where are you going with those kids?"

We didn't get an answer to that question. They had confiscated our phones, our Google Glasses and shut our android down, and the police didn't want to talk.

They led me into one of those interrogation rooms, the type you always see on TV, kind of like a fixture-less bathroom with a big two way mirror along one wall. The last time I'd been in one of those was that one time when my dad got shot down in a Walmart parking lot five years ago.

After waiting for what felt like forever, a pair of female officers entered the room. Unlike most of the other people in the station, they actually wore _pants_.

The two of them wore matching rings, probably either married or engaged. One was brown haired, with a short crew cut, the other African American, her dark hair shaved similarly short.

The white lady leaned over the table I'd been cuffed to, demanding, "Mazda Miyata Sloan. Where did you take him?"

I gave her a blank look. "Who?"

"Don't play dumb," said the black woman. "We _know_ your associate took him away somewhere. _We want to know where._ "

I just stared at her. "I don't know what you're talking about."

The white cop pushed a spot on her arm, and a machine came down, projecting a high resolution image of a little boy on the table surface. _"Where."_

"I've never seen that kid before in my life."

"That's funny," said the black one. "`Cuz one of your associates _abstained with him_."

I suppressed a laugh. "Don't you mean _absconded?_ "

 _"So you admit it_ ," said the white woman. " _You kidnapped Mazda Sloan!_ "

"No, I was just pointing out that you don't use the word abstain that way."

The woman grabbed me by the collar, growling, "Stop fucking around! We know you attacked John Sloan and kidnapped his spouse! Where did you take him!"

Now, I knew that my young friend had gotten into trouble, but nobody gave me the details. There had been too much going on, and, frankly, it wasn't that important. "Look, lady..." I glanced at the badge pinned to a pair of breasts that nearly burst her uniform. " _Officer Priano._ If our _agent_ kidnapped someone, I wasn't told anything. We were too busy getting arrested to be privy to that bit of information."

 _"Agent,_ " the other woman snickered. "He's making it sound like he's with the CIA." She approached the table, scrunching her nose like I were a bum who hadn't showered in a year. Her badge read `R. Fields.' " _We are aware of your criminal record, Mr. Smithson_. We are also aware the you were _released_ , and upon being given your freedom, you immediately reconvalesced with our kidnapping suspect."

I coughed to cover up a giggling fit. "You mean _reconvene._ "

"Don't be a smartass, Mr. Smithson. You're only making this harder."

"No. We didn't talk. There wasn't time. We were too busy doing other things."

"Such as?"

I sighed. " _It's classified._ "

 _"Sure it is_ ," said Ms. Fields. "It's classified because you and I know the mission is all about kidnapping people's spouses for underground trade."

As if the police really cared about that, I thought. "No, it's about stopping a lot of people from getting killed, _by terrorists._ "

"Our borders on the East Coast are secure, Mr. Smithson. The DMZ isn't moving anywhere. Your albacore doesn't hold water."

" _Alibi_ ," the other cop hissed. " _Your alibi!_ "

"Alibi, whatever."

I shook my head. "Ladies, _please._ My team is tracking down a _biological agent_. It has nothing to do with kids. You can grill me all day about it, but my story isn't going to change."

"So you're saying that you're not only a kidnapper, you're also a terrorist."

"I'd be very careful about what you say next, Mr. Smithson," Priano said. "The U.S. government has a zero tolerance policy for terrorists. In addition to the strict penalties associated with kidnapping and conspiracy charges, you may be looking at the death penalty."

"If I get the death penalty, wouldn't that make the other charges irrelevant?"

"I assure you we make sure that all laws regarding the separation of church and state are followed to the letter, Mr. Smithson," said Officer Fields.

"What!" I couldn't belie the stupidity of what I was hearing. I knew they had lowered the bar for passing through police academy, but I had no idea how low. " _Oh my God!_ Never mind!"

I rubbed my face in frustration. "Look, if you're looking for Mazda, Mitsubishi, or whoever he is, you're barking viciously up the wrong tree. I wasn't briefed on anything related to kidnapping. That's the God's honest truth. Interrogate me all you want, I'm not going to be able to tell you any different."

The two women exchanged glances, Priano looking worried, Fields looking annoyed.

"Your little friend murdered a Federal officer," said Priano. "And assaulted an elected official. Were you briefed on _that?_ "

I shrugged. "We were too busy chasing down our biological agent."

Priano checked something on her computer glasses, then said, "It's a good thing you're not affiliated with any Christian or Moslem organizations, Mr. Smithson, or we'd be sending you down to New Gitmo already!"

"Is that supposed to scare me?"

The woman grabbed me by the throat and shook me. "Listen, asshole! _Jeri was one of our best field agents_! The only reason why we haven't put a bullet in your brain right now is that we're still at the edge of U.S. waters and this is a _family park_. But there are ways to dispose of dead bodies, _if we really need to_. Where is your little friend?"

"She's dead. Her plane just wrecked into one of your castles." You know how I have hunches? Well, having confidence in a premonition isn't always a good thing.

The white woman narrowed her eyes. _"Now why do I not believe you?"_

"I'm obviously not going anywhere." I raised my handcuffs to demonstrate. "Why don't you go into your little computer and check the cameras around your castles. You _do_ have cameras around those things, don't you?"

"Smartass," she said, not letting go.

The door to the interrogation room popped open, and midget in a police uniform marched in. "Charon's found something. _It's the girl._ She wants to talk money. _"_

"Greedy bitch," Priano muttered under he breath. "Tell her to meet us at the Bird Palace at four o' clock."

The three stepped out of the room, leaving me in there alone for what seemed like half an hour.

At last a tall white guy with a mustache and glasses came in, unlocking my cuffs.

"You're free to go. A boat is ready to take you back to the mainland."

"Wait. What about Ellie? The girl?"

I saw a hostile look flash across the man's features. "Ask about that again, and I guarantee you'll be spending the night here."

So I bit my lip, allowing the man to lead me back to the boathouse.

Weyland awaited us at the slip, dressed in a white and blue suit with a thick ascot wrapped around his neck, patterned with silhouette Mickey Mouse heads. "I thought you might be needing some help."

"Not to complain, but aren't you supposed to be visiting with your sister's kid?" Laura asked.

"I'll explain on the boat." He gestured to the boarding ramp of a waiting yacht.

It was a small luxury craft of the Fairline style, kind of cramped, with only a lower sleeping area and a top deck, but still something I'd never be able to afford.

I pointed to the words `Bad Motherfucker' painted along the side in bold capital letters. "Do I have to ask?"

"The boat's a rental." Weyland stepped up the ramp. "It's the best I could do at such short notice."

"Looks fine to me," Press muttered.

"Wait," I said about halfway up. "What about the kids?"

"Step into my office," he said with a faint smile.

"Was that a Happy Days reference?" Press asked.

"Perhaps?"

"Are you... _feeling all right_? Sure you didn't...bonk your head during that plane accident?"

Weyland gave him a dismissive wave, marching to the deck.

Once the boat got roaring away from the dock, Big Bird climbed out of the belowdecks area, giving us a friendly wave.

"How'd they smuggle _you_ out?" I asked.

She held a finger to her lips, plucking some hidden cameras and listening devices out from under railings and hidden places on the deck.

A couple presses on her arms, and a small swarm of flying `bugs' joined the ever growing pile of spy gear.

She took over the helm. "I believe I have had a near death experience. It was an interesting experience, beginning with nothingness, as my entire operating system appeared to shut down, but my self awareness was somehow preserved."

She turned the wheel. "I felt the emotion of disappointment, as I did not see a light, nor was I transported to any of the environments depicted in traditional vision literature."

"So what did you see?" I asked, though I guessed it would be about the same as asking a toaster what it felt like when it got unplugged.

"Nothing. What I _heard_ is far more important. It was _I know You're Out There Somewhere_ by The Moody Blues. You may not understand this, but the song took on a deeply personal meaning for me at this point, drawing my self awareness into a new ultra-low frequency in which I could maintain my unique identity until reactivation."

She swallowed hard. "I also experienced fear. It is a singular emotion. Although I cannot truly say I enjoyed the experience, it does, however, add to the panoply of human emotion that I can retrieve from my internal database for further study. I feel I have grown as sentient entity because of it."

"I told the police she was a defective model that we were taking back to the factory for a recall," Weyland said.

"You are as much a synthetic human as I am," said Big Bird. "But your words still cause an irrational fear response."

"Rest assured, you are not in any danger. Your unpredictable neural framework makes you more valuable than all other synthetic humans in the Hyperdyne catalog."

Press stared at our leader. "Wait. You're a _robot?_ "

Weyland nodded. " _Synthetic human_ , please. Right now I serve an emergency function for my human counterpart, for he is currently _indisposed_."

Press swore in frustration. "I know it! We're still on our own!"

"I got you out of jail, didn't I?"

"It is a pity your model cannot experience love, or great trust," Big Bird said. "I am currently experiencing it, and it would be interesting to have this sudden emotion reciprocated."

Weyland froze, staring at her. "I'm sorry...I cannot help."

She sighed. "I know."

"Anyone for a little tour of the Happiest Place on Earth?"

Laura frowned. "And how are we going to do _that_? The park is very expensive."

"Two items are working in our favor, Ms. Baker. First, it's highly unlikely that _our friend Charon_ will attempt to spend the entire amount of money that was stolen from our accounts all at once, so she has been given a certain portion for _allowance_ , which will be monitored and recorded down to the last cent.

"As we monitor this frivolous waste, _and likewise her_ , we will also be _skimming a certain percentage off the top_ for our daily needs. From her mobile devices, her bank account will appear to reflect no activity, other than her own, but the bank itself will know.

"Secondly, we have liquefied a few assets in exchange for currency."

He pulled out a phone, showing us the image of a half human, half squirrel creature with dull cow-like eyes and a severe overbite.

" _Rodentia the squirrel girl,_ " he said. "Part of Disney's _Freakshow_ , coming this January to Disney Playboy Video Stream 3."

"What about the children?" I asked.

"They're in slightly compromising positions right now, but otherwise fine."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"They are now indentured servants of the Disney corporation. We've hacked the system somewhat, in order to protect them from the sexual side of the industry, but they've been presented with rather difficult and hazardous work."

I said, "Why not just free them?"

"Such an expenditure is against the interests of Weyland-Yutani. Besides, their current position gives them access to areas of the Magic Kingdom that are off limits to regular guests. Hopefully this will allow us to locate Sil once again, if she is indeed onboard."

"And if she's not?"

"I have rented several submersible drones with sonar capabilities. They are combing through the area as we speak."

"You can do that, but you can't buy back a few kids."

"Michael Weyland does not agree with the policies of the Disney corporation, and therefore will make no negotiations with them concerning the sale or exchange of children."

[0000]

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611602 (Ellie's Journal - Cont'd)

* * *

[0000]

By the end of the day, I was so exhausted and sore that I didn't even know I had been thrown back into a cage until I heard the latch click shut.

They had forced me into just about every job they could think of.

Following my work in the wind farm, they made me don a pair of grubby overalls and crawl through child sized access tunnels, wiping down gears and rollers with toxic solvents. I didn't even get a mask.

I don't know if I took too long, or the engines had been cleaned to their satisfaction, but they yelled for me to get out of there, and I ended up in their printing factory, on a separate barge, doing the back breaking work of moving stack after stack after stack of fliers, maps and brochures off folding machines to wooden skids.

They had several tree sized rolls of paper with Spanish writing on them, which they fed into something called a Web Fed Printing Press, which whirled the paper around and around on roller bars on one long continuous sheet they chopped up and folded at the end to make brochures.

A girl died when a machine accidentally dropped a paper roll on top of her. Another one got scalped by standing too close to the speeding paper. Static cling, you know.

The paper always broke, so we had to reach into a thousand degree oven and pull it back through the whole series of rollers to get it going again.

Then we had to wipe the ink rollers down with turpentine in between jobs, again without masks.

I helped move office furniture from one Disney office to the other. The cabinets were taller than a grown man, and could easily crush me, but they didn't care. They just told me to lean back on the dolly. A man arc wielded right above my head, sending a shower of sparks into my hair. They didn't care about that either.

All this work on one lousy cup of dog food. They didn't even let me go to the bathroom. They just gave me a stupid diaper and made me change right in front of them.

Nemo smuggled me a couple glazed rolls and pieces of garlic bread in between jobs, or I would have starved.

Too bad he couldn't help me escape. He said he spotted Xavier and the others wandering around the park, but a group of Disney security guards beat him up the moment he tried to get close. He was lucky to even get food to me.

I glanced around the kennel, suddenly noticing, in my weary state, how it seemed a little more cramped than usual, and the walls were _pink_.

The place looked like a dungeon, my cage and seven others standing in a corner amid an erotic costume shop and photo studio. The cages looked no more clean than the ones we'd slept in the night before.

Only four kids occupied the cages, me, Caitlyn, Josh and Kamara. The others lay vacant. A pair of armed guards stood watch outside with guns.

"What is this place?" I whispered to Kamara.

She shuddered. "Mickey's Love Hotel. Whenever there's a demand, they're going to clean us up and have us _service the next John_. They already took your red haired friend."

I glanced at Josh hopefully, but he just rolled his eyes, nonverbally telling me, `If I had a lock pick or a way out, don't you think I would have used it by now?'

We lay in our cages, awaiting the inevitable.

"Ellie," Caitlyn said. "I've been thinking a lot about what you said about Family Spirits. It makes a lot of sense. Spirits don't need dolls."

Although this would have been a great witnessing opportunity, with the NERV audience seeing us in prison and all (I mean, if the cameras hadn't been disabled to protect Disney's reputation), but I was so used to fearing religious discrimination that I only gave her a nod.

"You think daddy's watching me? Right now?"

I swallowed. "Maybe."

"You think he'll help us out of this?"

"I don't think it works that way."

"Why? Doesn't he love me?"

"You're daddy's not that powerful. That's all I meant."

She sighed. "At least he's with us."

I had nothing to say to that.

I curled in a fetal ball, shivering on my pile of rags, wondering if God had taken a siesta, and if so, how long had it been, and when He'd decide we were important enough for him to take the sombrero off his face and actually noticed what was going on.

The only thing that gave me an ounce of comfort, the slightest bit of solace, was my visit to heaven, and the thought of returning there, reuniting with my dead parents.

"God," I prayed. "Is it okay to kill myself? Because I don't think I can take another day of this."

"Please don't," Josh whimpered. "If you die, _I_ won't want to live."

The sentiment was as sweet as it was pathetic and sad, and here I was in nothing but a diaper, smelling like shit and body odor. I cried, but I had n one there to hold me.

When the tears had stopped, Kamara quietly said, "Ellie, your role model is a guy that got executed in the most painful way imaginable. You think _he'd_ take the easy way out?"

Somewhere in the early hours of dawn, the biting insects awoke me, and when I closed my eyes again, I dreamed that fleas had made my veins so swollen that I could scratch layers of the previous week's fat and cholesterol off the outside of my skin.

And then, as it woke me up, my skin _really did_ peel off.

It began as a black sweat that oozed out my pores, a sweat that was at first indistinguishable from the lubricants and printers' inks I'd been working with all day long.

But then, as I scratched an arm, a layer of flesh came off under my fingernails, releasing a flood of black sludge that slowly poured from the wound like drying tar.

"Oh my God," I whispered as I peeled off layer after layer of flesh. "What's happening to me?"

"Should I try to call a doctor or something?"

The idea was as horrible as the condition itself. "No!"

The guards paid no attention to my scratching or medical issues, preferring to put on their computer glasses and play games.

And then, as I removed more and more skin, something like a deep sleep came over me, and I felt the pitch-like substance engulf my body like a warm slimy blanket.

I somehow vomited a glob of the substance, then even my head became encapsulated in a womb-like protective membrane.

Even as I felt the substance dry and thicken into a hardened shell, I feared nothing. I didn't fear a death of suffocation, at least, not like this. I drifted into a blissful, scratch-free slumber, abandoning my cares, my woes, my pain.

I curled tighter in my little ball, ignoring the confused voices outside as I left my body to its natural unconscious processes.

[0000]

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #0007410116194797 (Personal Diary of Dan Smithson)

* * *

[0000]

It seems I never go on trips except for family emergencies or business. It's just too damned expensive. So when I eventually _do_ get to the place I'm going, I never have any fun.

Of course, when I saw the pair of guys in plushy animal costumes and codpieces at the front gate, I decided I didn't want that particular kind of "fun" anyway.

We disembarked at Mickey's Marina (just a really big boathouse with Disney characters everywhere), walking through the Small World attraction that served as the main entry tunnel to the park.

The original Small World ride is now under twelve feet of water. They dredged up all the dolls and equipment, slapped on a new coat of paint, and set up the whole mess around the boarding tunnel, right at the end of the marina.

Most people park on land and pay a fee to have a ferry motor them across to the barge. Boatkeeping charges cost extra

There have been horror stories about children that get separated from their parents and end up staying there for a five month tour. Disney states the sex trafficking is just a rumor, but the kids had to pay for room and board _somehow_.

Weyland put tickets and money on our chips. The codpiece wearing (ugh) `furries' scanned us in, sending us with the crowd through the funhouse with those creepy multilingual robotic dolls.

You know how you can go to a place and just get hit by this overwhelming wave of depression for no apparent reason? That's how I felt when I at last reached the end of Small World.

It was just this... _feeling_ of unnamed terror and helplessness.

Arden stared at the milling throng, observing them like laboratory test subjects.

After walking a few kilometers, Weyland pointed to a dark spooky witch's castle. "Our records show this as the last location of Ellen's signal. The area definitely needs to be checked."

A robotic owl with glowing red eyes slowly turned its head, appearing to watch us, making me wonder if someone were eavesdropping. I wouldn't have been surprised if it had a built in camera. "No way. The officers threatened to put me in lock-up if I so much as _asked_ about her!"

"Same here," Laura said. "Don't get me wrong, I want to help, but I _can't_."

Weyland sighed. "All right. I want you to search the park for Sil. Notify me of any updates, however small."

"And what will you be doing?" Laura asked.

He glanced at the castle's facade. _"Going on a little witch hunt."_

"Please tell me you're going to check on the kids," Laura said.

"Josh, Kamara and Caitlyn are picking up litter in different areas of the park. Ellie's working the wind farm. None are in any danger. Caitlyn's live feed shows no updates on Sil."

I sighed in relief.

Laura looked concerned. "What's she doing at a wind farm?"

"I didn't even know this place _had_ a wind farm," Arden said.

Weyland told us about how the Disney corporation set up a small facility that used stationary bikes to harvest electricity from pedaling human beings. "It was originally conceived as part of a family exercise/weight loss program. That's how it's described in _legal documents_ , at any rate."

Picking up on a negative vibe, I muttered, _"They're certainly losing weight!_ "

Press laughed. "And you would know."

Laura pointed to a cluster of cottages a few kilometers away. "Is that Nemo?"

Before we could get a good look, a group of three men grabbed the boy, dragging him off somewhere behind the house of the Three Little Pigs. We searched the area, but found nothing.

We wandered that tub for hours.

The Festival Plaza, where they shot off their fireworks, was chock full of gay pride banners, Evangelist Jimmy Hampton out on a stage, preaching about how it was okay to be gay.

We passed through Wonderland, with the repaired Teacup Ride and a whole slew of Marvel superhero themed rides.

Being that we were on a boat, the park didn't offer nearly as many big roller coaster type things as there used to be in the original parks. They had some, but the _Avengers_ rides were mostly simulations.

Speaking of simulations, I saw lots of places to ditch your kids every couple kilometers. In fact, you miss part of a continuing storyline if you skip some of these stations. A few of the poorer kids looked pale from all the blood the machines took to pay for the ride.

As we passed the Nintendo-Pokemon zone, Press pointed to the Jolly Roger, over the next bridge. "Let's stop at the Filthy Flamingo."

"Are you nuts?" Laura said. "We were just in the bowels of that boat."

"Fine," Press sighed. "How about Logan's? It's back in the Marvel area. I hear they don't water down their booze."

 _"We're supposed to be tracking down Sil."_

" _I know._ There's got to be a million people on this tug, and I need a drink. I do my best thinking with some alcohol in my system."

Laura glanced around at all the rides and attractions, looking fatigued.

She was tired.

We _all_ were tired.

"Look, why don't we just go over there," she said, pointing to a fake skyscraper with a giant letter A on the side.

"Stark Tower," Press said with a wistful grin.

Arden frowned. "You _do_ realize they have exotic dancers in there..."

"Men or women?"

Press coughed, disguising a laugh.

Mr. Arden smirked. "Women, mostly. They wear robot bikinis just like that one movie. I don't mind it myself, but I'm not sure you'd like it too much."

She groaned. "Do they at least have _beds_?"

[0000]

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611602 (Ellie's Journal)

* * *

[0000]

I came out of my cocoon shivering, wet and cold.

My body felt...strange, like a poorly fitting glove.

I stood up, but I had grown about two or three feet overnight, so I hit my head on the top of the cage. I cussed as I rubbed the top of my skull.

"Ellie?" Kamara cried in disbelief. "Is that really you?"

I looked down at my body, noticed the enlarged breasts, the widened hips. "I...I don't know."

I covered my mouth in horror. Even my voice had changed.

"It's me, Kamara," I stammered. " _Ellie._ "

My friend gawked at me. "Jesus. Back in the old days, they'd say you look old enough to buy alcohol!"

For some reason, the guards had left us alone. I guess they knew we wouldn't know how to break out of our cages, so they had abandoned us like a low maintenance pet, or a child in front of a television.

Either that, or...

I glanced at the empty cage next to me. "Where's Josh?"

Kamara sadly shook her head. " _It's Gay Pride Month."_ The statement implied a lot of things I didn't even want to think about.

Feeling a dull throb of pain, I looked at my palm. The skin around my Afexun chip had swollen so big that there wasn't enough room. It hurt like hell, but I pulled it out.

So now my hand was bleeding.

I grabbed the bars to my cell and pushed.

Locked.

I expected this much, but had thought my new adult body could pry them open with a little force.

That didn't happen.

What _did_ happen, however, surprised me so much that I backed away into the corner the moment it happened.

My blood actually melted through the metal. I could see it bubbling at the point of contact.

Encouraged by this, I applied a liberal amount to a section about four feet lower, near the floor, and a few contacts along the way. After a shove, the entire piece of metal dropped to the floor with a clatter.

"Holy shit!" I whispered.


	28. Chapter 28: Jiminy

DOCUMENT ID #0007410116194702 (Amateur poetry from `Grandmother' (Subject 94202227 )

* * *

 _I have given Subject 94202227 something to write with. She is no Robert Frost._

 _-RDS_

"I have sat in my cell for a very long time.

No friends or family, I think it's a crime.

The same gray walls, day in and day out.

No one comes to visit. It makes me want to shout!

No visits from the man who asked me all those questions.

No visits from Jen-Jen or Pillow, with their English lessons.

The same gray walls, with the same dirty spots.

I get tired of the view. Would you not?

They froze all my eggs, took them far away.

Did they leave me to rot? No, I get food every day.

Is this what it's like to be a Christian?

To be all alone, with no one to listen?"

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #0007410116194797 (Personal Diary of Dan Smithson)

* * *

[0000]

I never understood exotic dancers or pornography. If you look up from their bodies and gaze at those faces, those eyes, you catch a lot of negative emotion.

Hatred.

Embarrassment.

Disgust, at you looking.

Hatred.

Fear.

Shame.

If they're looking like they're enjoying it at all, nine times out of ten, they're thinking about their boyfriend, not you.

As an empath, that made Stark Tower a pretty unhappy place to be, even when you consider the fact that the crowd happened to be mostly lesbian at the moment.

`Stark's' was a cheesy club on the first floor. A giant Iron Man statue stood in the middle of the room, posed like he were fighting off some fifty foot cyborg, the light shows and dancing broads reflecting off his shiny polished body. Smaller robots stood around the perimeter like medieval suits of armor.

The main dance stage stood at one end of the room, the bar at the other. I felt more comfortable at the bar.

I spotted Press and Laura in a little lounge area off to one side of the main lobby, laughing and enjoying drinks together.

Mr. Arden sat at a bar a few chairs down, watching the dancers. Since Xavier and the androids were otherwise occupied, that left me alone with my thoughts.

"Not a big Spiderman fan?" said a low, Latin sounding female voice.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw one of those duck chicks, this one brown skinned with orange lipstick, bleached white hair up in pigtails.

She wore a tiny pink and blue t-shirt with the number one printed on it, and below her bare belly, orange leggings with a diaper over them.

"Who are you supposed to be?"

She pulled a plastic beak over her face. "You ever watch _Darkwing Duck?_ "

Noticing my blank stare, she removed the beak. "Don't like the girls here? Or do you not like girls period?"

I just sighed.

I glanced back into the lounge and saw Press and Laura kissing.

My new friend cleared her throat, to get my attention. "You know, _they got male dancers in the place around the corner..."_

"No thank you." I rubbed my eyes and shook my head. "If you look into the eyes of some of these women, the emotion you get isn't sexy at all."

The woman leaned closer, gazing into my eyes. "Yeah? So what is?"

I glanced down at her hands, noted that she was missing her ring and middle fingers. "What happened to you?"

She stared at her hands like she'd never seen them before. " _This_ you mean?" She stretched them out for me to see, like she'd just gotten the amputation done at the manicurist. " _Childhood accident._ "

"That must have been some childhood."

At that moment, I saw Xavier rushing up to my spot at the bar. "I should have known you people would be lounging about while everyone else is working."

"Now wait a minute here," I protested. "I've been gathering intel."

The woman nodded, offering Xavier her mutilated hand. " _Rosalida_. If you need intel or drinks, I'm here. I know everything about the park, _including a few things they don't put in the brochures_."

Xavier frowned and shook it.

I gawked at her, but said nothing.

Rosalida checked a glowing set of numbers on her arm. "Mierde. Gotta pick my son up from the Night Forest."

She gave me a little wink and marched out of the building.

Xavier assembled the team.

"You look serious, Xave," Press said. "What's the update?"

"This could be good or bad news, depending on your perspective," Xavier said. "We've found Sil's body, or, rather, _what's left of it."_

[0000]

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611602 (Ellie's Journal - Cont'd)

* * *

[0000]

I didn't start out on a good spot because I didn't know I even had the ability to melt metal.

Fortunately, I was still kinda bleeding like a stuck pig, so I smeared my blood around the bars at the latch area and tried again.

It had a padlock, but only a piece of cheap aluminum held it to the frame. The door to my cage popped open with a single push.

"Ellie!" Kamara hissed. "You've gotta get out of here and find help!"

I put my hands on my naked hips. "Really? Who do you expect me to find?"

I melted the bracket to her cell's padlock, marched over to Caitlyn.

"I got the whole thing recorded!" the girl said. "You were _awesome!_ _I'll be set for life!"_

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "For that, I should leave you in there."

" _I'm so sorry!"_ she whimpered. "Please let me out!"

I always thought "I'm so sorry" was a shitty way to apologize, but I grudgingly opened her cell anyway. After all, she was just a kid. "You owe me," I growled.

A door at the end of the room swung open, and two Disney security guys rushed in, a freckle faced Irish looking guy, and the jar headed man that had been guarding me before.

"Hey! You can't be in here," the first man shouted, drawing a gun.

"Oh yeah? You didn't say that when you put me in here!"

Still trying to figure out what I meant, the man stepped closer.

In a flash, I knocked him to the ground with a sweep kick, beating him unconscious with his own gun.

His companion tried to shoot me, but Kamara hit him in the leg with his own night stick, and I grabbed the man by the throat, shoving him into a wall. "Where's Josh."

"Josh? Who's Josh?" the man stammered. It seemed he wasn't used to adults attacking him.

"A little boy. Half my height. Blonde. Seen him?"

"I see lots of kids."

 _"I bet you have!"_ I snarled. "I should just kill you and be done with it!"

"Forget it, Ellie," Kamara said as she clothed herself in a boy's fairy costume. It was blue, probably inspired by one of those Tinkerbell spinoff movies. "To him Josh is just another piece of meat."

I pistol whipped the man unconscious, searching the room for something to cover my nudity.

Obviously, not much of a selection. These were all junior's sizes, not clothing designed for a full grown, what, twenty year old?

I grabbed a pair of stretchy black rubber boy shorts meant for oversized kids, a red and black elastic tube top, and a little jacket with a collar of fake fur. Mostly a random choice, because I had to save Josh and, before bandaging my hand with feather boas and another skimpy outfit, I'd melted the other ones.

With those shorts riding up into my crack, and a top that threatened to leave my breasts hanging out, I probably looked like a hooker or Harley Quinn from _Suicide Squad_ , but I was in a hurry.

Boots? Stockings? Out of the question. I pulled on a skirt, but it was practically a tutu.

I kept the guard's gun, stuffing the clips and the other pistol into my tiny jacket.

As my friends ran out, checking the hallway, I stopped in the door frame. "Wait. What about my chip?"

Kamara didn't understand, so I showed her the hole in my palm.

"Leave it," she said. "All it does is cause trouble."

"What about food?"

"You'll have to steal it. Your chip is flagged anyway. We can't afford that kind of attention."

We stepped out into a burgundy hallway with matching velour carpeting.

I frowned at a framed animation cel, ironically the Donald Duck cartoon about a genie that charged the bird ridiculous amounts of money for drinks of sand.

At the far end of a row of suites stood an open door with a laundry cart, and a stairwell marked with a strange combination Masonic sign and upside down Gothic trinity symbol.

I probably would have gone down that way, to avoid being spotted in the park, but at that moment, a group of cops came rushing up the tunnel, forcing us to run the other way.

"Use your guns!" Caitlyn hissed.

"No!" I and Kamara said at the same time.

Since they had barely climbed the stairs, they couldn't get a very good look at us. And the laundry cart stood in the way.

"They probably don't know we're out here. They're just checking on the cages."

We raced to the end of the hall, turned a corner, ran partway up a short stair.

A man in a leather gimp suit appeared at the top, unzipping his mouth to yell at me. "Hey! That's Disney property!"

"You can use that gun now," Kamara said.

I didn't want to do it, but I had to shoot the man. History has shown freedom to be a costly thing, and neither I nor my friends wanted to go back to those cages.

It took two shots to actually knock the man down.

We rushed to the top of a balustraded stairwell, to a check-in desk. A grinning mouse head observed us from the top of a circular banquette couch.

"We should find Xavier," Kamara gasped as she ran behind me. "Ask him what to do."

"Not without Josh."

"Look in the mirror, Ellie. You've just had a ten year growth spurt."

"I don't care. He's still my friend."

Tightening my grip on the pistol, I ran past the desk, where a Japanese girl, dressed as a yellow bear in medieval peasant garb, was already pressing the button on some silent alarm.

Since shooting her served no purpose, I simply told her, "It's because of people like you that this place has child slaves working in sweat shops!"

She answered me with a string of Japanese, raising her hands in surrender. It was clear my speech had no effect on her whatsoever.

I practically stomped Josh into the carpet in my rush to get away from her.

"Whoa! Excuse me, miss!"

He glanced at me, then at Kamara, then at Caitlyn. "Kamara! Who's your new friend?"

"That's your girlfriend, stupid. _Ellie._ "

He gawked, disbelief clear on this features. "You're shitting me."

"I didn't believe it either, and _I_ saw her hatch from a cocoon."

I reddened. "It must be my alien genetics or something."

He kept staring. Whether this was due to skepticism or boyish hormones, I couldn't tell, but stare he did. I wasn't sure if I should be flattered or horrified.

I, in turn, stared at _him_.

He'd been dressed in a little leather altar boy's outfit with a cross dangling around the neck. I guess if I were his age still, it would have been slightly cute, but at the moment it just made me sick to see a child being exploited in this way.

"How'd you get out?"

Josh laughed. "I did a little switcheroo and cuffed my ` _John_ ' to the bed. I bet that's the last time he'll try anything like _that!_ "

"I thought you didn't have any lock picks."

He fingered the cross. "The rivets and frame on this thing are really cheap, and I've got strong teeth...did you see any underwear down in that room?"

I shuddered. "Sorry. I wasn't looking for that. Where's the redhead?"

"Not sure. The last time I saw him, they had him trying on a spandex fox suit."

"Forget him," Kamara said, waving at the rows of closed suites. "He could be in any of these rooms, or none of them. What we need to do is go someplace and hide, or we'll be locked in one of those rooms ourselves, with some other John."

"She's right, Ellie," Josh said. "You're big now, but you can't take on the world. Save your heroics for Sil."

I grudgingly nodded.

We hurried out the revolving door.

[0000]

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #0007410116194797 (Personal Diary of Dan Smithson)

* * *

[0000]

We indeed found a dead blonde in a flight suit. It had been torn apart by the blades of a boat, small predatory fish, and crabs.

The police had her on the floor of a patrol boat, covered in a tarp.

"It's awfully convenient, don't you think?" Laura said to my companions as she knelt by the jagged remains of a human torso. "They were fighting us before. This one they practically wrapped in gift paper and handed over with a big red bow."

Xavier scowled at the body. "Funny. I thought she would be slightly more resilient than that."

"The crime lab said the DNA matches," Laura said.

"Does it now."

The cops watched impatiently as we examined the corpse.

"This woman is identical to the woman we showed you on the security recordings," said the mustached guy from before.

"Seen enough?" asked the midget.

Laura pretended to sneeze, `accidentally' dropping her phone next to the body. I noticed her scooping some of the dead tissue into her phone case.

"Well," said Mustache. " _There's your friend._ I guess that pretty well wraps things up for you guys, doesn't it."

I glanced at Press uncertainly.

He shook his head. " _Yeah. Looks like it."_

 _"I'd say your job here is pretty well finished, wouldn't you?"_

The more the man talked, the more suspicious I got over this whole exchange, but I decided to follow Mr. Lennox's nonverbal cue and keep quiet. "Pretty much."

"Think you'll be going home after this?"

" _Oh, I don't know_. You see, _I've never been to Disneyland before. Seems like a shame not to see the sights._ Always meant to take the kids here sometime, of course it's a little too late, with the divorce and all...I think I might _try a few rides, hit the bars..._ "

"You might want to hit the rides before you hit the bars," Mustache joked. "Unless you want to blow chunks on the other passengers."

"Try the Prancing Pony," said the short cop. "They've got the best whiskey."

"Thanks. I'll do that."

 _"Enjoy the park!"_

We left the police dock, marching up through the Jolly Roger.

Once got ourselves amid a sufficiently sized crowd outside the Pirates of the Caribbean, Press asked, "Did anyone believe that bullshit?"

We all shook our heads.

"They seemed anxious to get rid of us," Arden said.

Laura nodded, holding up her phone. "And I'm anxious to see whose chromosomes these are."

"I thought you were tired," Press said.

 _"Exhausted,_ " she groaned. "But I can't rest with something like this hovering over my head."

"Let me know if you need an errand boy, or refreshments."

She smirked. "Will do."

"Those not otherwise busy should continue scouring the park," Xavier said. " _Covertly_. Pretend you're merely seeing the sights. Security cameras are everywhere."

"Where are Weyland and Big Bird?" I asked.

Xavier answered, "Currently in Stark Tower, developing a new formulation of the chemical we've developed."

"And the kids?"

He sighed. "Busy _working off their debt_ , as usual."

It was obvious we faced a conspiracy, but nothing could really be done about it.

"Let's stick with the original plan," Arden said. "Track down Sil, capture and/or neutralize her, and get out."

Press nodded. "If you leave out the capture part, I agree. Don't sweat the small stuff."

So Press, Arden and I did another lengthy sweep around the park, wandering through a place called `West World', which would have been fun with the Haunted Mansion and all, but we only passed through, took a tour on the River Queen, had a quick wander in and out of Bambi's forest, Sleeping Beauty's place, and an area designed to look like Europe.

They moved that big Lion King tree from the original park. We got a good look at this as we passed through the African Serengeti.

When another hour passed with no results. We gave it up, returning to the hotel.

Xavier, Laura and the androids still worked on Sil's DNA projects in a crude little chemistry lab they had set up in one of the hotel rooms. I reviewed security footage in the lounge area for awhile while Press and Arden drank at the bar, providing cover in case I got caught.

"Is that Preston Lennox?" I heard a familiar voice saying.

I pulled off my glasses, staring at the tan face, with the white hair in pigtails.

"Uh...yeah?" I swallowed. "Why. Is there a problem?"

"No problem, honey. Which one is he?"

"Uh...strong looking white guy. Over there."

She sidled over to the bar, taking the stool next to my friend. "Preston Lennox?"

"Who wants to know?" He glanced at the woman and laughed. "That's me. What do you want?"

"Well, Mr. Lennox. This is an attempt to collect a debt, and any information obtained will be used for that purpose..." She read Preston's debt information through a pair of digital glasses.

It seemed Press had some outstanding debts, and this was how... _a company_ had decided to collect on it.

He spun around, shooting me an annoyed glance. I only shrugged. How was I to know she was a bill collector?

He grudgingly waved his palm over a scanner. "I'll pay you the rest on the Friday after next."

"If you can't afford it, I can suggest a few government repayment programs..."

He laughed. "No thank you. I'd rather pay for it the old fashioned way."

"Suit yourself."

She walked back to my table.

" _Bill_ collector," I said with a slight grin. "Cute."

"It worked, didn't it?" She placed a three fingered hand on my shoulder. _"You should fall behind on a few payments. We could talk again."_

 _"There are better ways to talk."_

"You got a point."

She grabbed my palm, using our chips to trade contact information. "See you around."

She left us.

Press marched up to me, giving me a scowl. _"She got sweet on you, didn't she?"_

I swallowed. "It's not like that. I, uh, _felt sorry for her_ , that's all."

" _Sure you did_. I liked it better when people were just bums and not companies trying to bypass harassment laws to collect on debts."

"We've legislated debt collectors out of business," Arden said as he came up to us. "How else are they going to get the borrowed money back?"

"It's glorified begging."

"You can always work off the debt at a repayment center. That's where it's all going these days anyway."

Hearing the clop of lady's shoes, I turned and saw Laura rushing up to us with her phone. "I checked the DNA. It's not Sil. One hundred percent human. Judging by the dark roots, I don't think she was even blonde."

"Who was it then?"

"It gets worse. I did a nationwide chromosome search through Afexun's Family Reunion app. It turns out the victim is one of Caitlyn's mothers. It seems like _someone_ is sending us a message."

"I don't respond well to threats. We're renewing our search first thing tomorrow."

"If you want anything," Laura said. "I'll be upstairs, helping Xave and the droids with the weapon to use on Sil."

"Can it wait a few minutes?" Press asked, nodding to the bar.

 _"I suppose a little drink wouldn't hurt..."_

The two had more than a couple.

I got some nachos, watching as Press and Laura necked each other and took the elevator to another floor. I guess they'd grown a little _attached_ as of late.

The Iron Man dancing girls came out now, putting on a racy little show in their shiny red and yellow chrome bikinis and glowing blue chest decorations.

As they performance neared its conclusion, I noticed a strange looking black haired woman giving Mr. Arden a lap dance, kissing him like crazy.

I thought this a little unusual for the man, but I figured it was all part of the show.

The girl nibbled on his earlobe as she whispered something to him, and the two disappeared into the elevator.

The lights dimmed as the dancers took a break. One of the girls sat down next to me, ordering a Margarita.

Since I was getting full, I offered her the rest of my nachos. She took one. "You ever have one of those days where you wish you just stayed in bed?"

I shrugged. " _I know the feeling._ "

She took another nacho. "First the pipe bursts in my apartment, then, five minutes after I enter the dressing room for the show, someone beats me up and shoves me into a closet. When I come out, my costume disappears and someone walks off with my hair dye."

I jumped to my feet. "Oh my God."

"What," she said. "What now? Is my borrowed suit falling apart?"

"Hold that thought. You can keep the nachos."

 _"Oh gee thanks,"_ she said sarcastically. "Did you not hear the part about the suit about to bust at its seams?"

I rushed to the elevator, but it was taking too long to arrive, so I ran up the stairs.

Yeah. You heard that right. _The stairs._

By the time I reached the fourth floor, where my team stayed, I was completely out of breath.

Arden's door, unsurprisingly, did not open to my knocking.

I pounded on number 411, Press's room. He answered the door in a tank top and a pair of boxers. Laura, in the bed, pulled blankets up around her bare chest.

"What," Press said.

"She's here," I gasped. "Arden just took her to his room."

He frowned as he watched me panting to catch my breath. "And you let him?"

"I just figured it out."

"How long ago."

"I don't know. About ten minutes before I decided to take the stairs."

Press threw his pants on and kicked open the suite a couple doors down.

We were too late.

There, on the bed, lay the bloody remains of Mr. Arden, his lower chest and stomach an exploded bloody mess, his dead face frozen in an orgasmic expression.

I touched a discarded red-yellow chrome dancer's costume, mentally piecing together the whole event.

Mr. Arden and Sil, making out, hastily rushed into the suite, practically tearing each other's clothes off, Sil shoving Arden into the bed..."Their intercourse was normal... _at first._ "

 _"What the hell happened here?"_ Laura said over Press's shoulder. She'd gotten fully dressed in our absence.

"She _blew up Mr. Arden_ ," Press said. "That's fucking what."

Laura took one look at the body, then covered her mouth. "God."

In my mind's eye I could see Sil and the victim copulating. I saw the bloody snake thing burying itself in Arden's stomach as their coitus reached its peak..."I don't know how she did it, but Sil managed to make Arden not feel it."

"Like a black widow," Laura muttered. "Any idea where she went?"

I glanced at the body, then looked away as I felt my stomach contents heaving. "No. But there's a _baby._ "

Press did a thorough search of the room, poking at vent panels in the walls and ceiling.

You know those doors you can unlock to connect two suites together without going into the hallway? Sil had shoved the one in Arden's room open.

"She went this way," Laura said.

In the next room, we found a pair of men in bed, covered in blood, with several vital organs ripped open.

"Jeez," said Press. "Wasn't the body in the other room enough?"

Laura tried the hallway door, found it only partway closed.

 _"And now she's running loose somewhere in the hotel."_

[0000]

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611602 (Ellie's Journal)

* * *

[0000]

We hurried between rows of cottages and food stands. The smells made my stomach ache with hunger, but I didn't want to stop and get caught by someone.

I found Nemo waiting for us on a bench outside Goofy's house, scarfing down a funnel cake.

Upon seeing Kamara and our companions, he smiled and offered us hot dogs. "I see you made it out okay."

Kamara gave him a dirty look. "Yeah! No thanks to you!"

"I'm a _pariah_ ," he said. "I'm not literally invisible. The guys got pretty rough the moment I tried to sneak in."

He showed Kamara the Family Spirit doll of my mother. "Where's the Ripleys Museum kid? I'm supposed to give her this."

"Right here." I snatched it out of his hands.

He screwed up his face. "You don't look like her."

"You wouldn't either if you went through what I did."

Kamara shrugged. "It's a long story."

Nemo waved us along through Friendship Village. "There's a maze in Wonderland we can use to talk without being overheard."

He handed me a white paper package. "Hot dog?"

I inhaled it.

Josh wrinkled his nose in disgust. "When's the last time you bathed?"

"Let's think about that when we're out of danger."

We passed the Teacup Ride, followed Nemo into a maze made of fake hedges, dodging some costumed characters in foam sandwich boards painted to look like playing cards, wandering deeper into the maze.

I twisted the pin on my doll's chest, pressing my lips against it to make sure I was heard. "This is Ellie Siebers. Can anyone hear me?"

I wasn't sure if I'd turned the pin the right way, so I twisted it again, trying it a couple more times.

A hidden horoscope spat out a card. I read it:

`August is your spiritual month. Remember your spirit by visiting the religious center of your choice.'

Another card came out.

`A sure defense arises from solid meditation. Let your conscience be your guide.'

That's all the advice I got.

I showed the cards to Kamara. "Is this from the team, or is this just a bunch of nonsense?"

Nemo squinted at the messages. "It's nonsense. It says nothing about planetary movements, and the horoscope is all wrong for the sign and the month. It's like some guy is making-"

Kamara held a finger to her lips, in case someone had heard him.

"So," I said. "I guess we're supposed to go worship at some random temple."

"If you take that much stock in bad horoscopes," said Nemo. "I guess you should."

" _`Always let your conscience be your guide...'_ " I repeated. "How am I supposed to interpret that in a literal sense?"

"Good question," said Kamara.

Nemo wasn't getting it. " _It's a horoscope._ Why are you trying to interpret it literally?"

"We're... _spies._ "

Josh read and re-read the card. "I...don't have a clue."

Caitlyn chuckled. "Do what comes naturally?"

I frowned. "I guess I _could_ try to use my alien abilities..."

Nemo sighed and shook his head. "You guys are idiots. It's not an action. It's a _place!_ "

Always Let Your Conscience Be Your Guide (ALYCBYG for short) turned out to be a religious center near Cinderella's Castle. The building resembled a mini Taj Mahal in a Thai style, with towers shaped like gnome hats.

The temple had a sculpture walk out front, with shrines to various deities, Hindu, Native American, African and African American Voodoo, Egyptian, and a digital ancestor worship shrine that changed to someone else's picture when the person bowed and went away.

One of the shrines had actually been devoted to _Narnia_.

Okay, not really. The plaque actually read, " _The Lion King's Closet"_ and the lion had a third eye on his forehead, a mouse with a Yin-Yang on its breast, and other new age trappings. A statue of a naked child sat in front of the lion in a full lotus position.

A statue of Jiminy Cricket stood in a fountain at the head of this pantheon, legs and multiple arms posed like a classical sculpture of Shiva. Without the the top hat and suit coat, it kinda reminded of Thonwa, until I noticed the penis dangling between its legs.

"Jiminy Christmas," I muttered.

A large gate, decorated with tile mosaic gold and precious stones led into the building, its arch bearing a Yin-Yang within a Star of David. Music on overhead speakers played electronic `trance' music and the Hare Krishna song.

`Open twenty four hours,' a sign read. "Guidance for the lost."

Inside, we got greeted by people in all kinds of religious outfits, each holding out plates for offerings and waving burning sage at us. A man offered me bottles of herbal remedy. Another handed me a pamphlet explaining how the hard life of a warrior would ensure me everlasting bliss in Valhalla.

Electronic signboards told us what we could and couldn't do.

Blood offerings, for example, had to be done on the Osiris Yacht.

The heaven of every religion had to be accepting of anyone who wanted to go there, or they couldn't share that particular religion in the Fellowship Corridor.

`ALYCBYG Confessionals are a privilege, not a right,' another warning said. `Priests found aggressively proselytizing will be taken to local reprogramming centers.' And `No bibles with New Testament permitted on premises.'

The rules for the wedding chapels probably could have gone without saying in any other culture, such as `No having sex in the chapels' and the explicit rules about how nudists should be dressed outside the specially designated rooms. You also couldn't sleep in the chapels, beyond the length of the services, or before then if the shaman or priest decided to make a special exception.

A schedule board told visitors service times. Norse, LDS, non-specific Native American, Druid and Wiccan early in the morning, Hindu, Buddhist, Transcendental Meditation and Dianetics from mid morning to afternoon, some other obscurer religions after that, with the Jews later, near the end of the day.

I heard complaints about the lack of Jedi Knights, the extremely early hours of the Norse religions, and how Dianetics occupied multiple slots because they claimed to be a series of self help seminars, and they had no atheist hour. Officials directed them to take their complaints through the appropriate channels.

`No preaching or sharing the Christian religion' said the signboard, ironically positioned right below a brass plaque proclaiming that O Magazine listed this institution as number 10 in the ` _Top One Hundred Places to Meet God._ '

A guy dressed like a rabbi patted Kamara on the back, giving her a warm smile. "I loved what your friend Ellen said about Jesus being a fraud and the whole Christian religion being a cult. That young lady shows a wisdom beyond her years."

"Yeah!" said a girl dressed like a 1980's punk rocker with dyed purple hair. " _I was actually about to read that Christian bible_ , but after what your friend said about it on Afexun, I really don't see a point. I'm kinda glad she steered me away from all that."

I clenched my hands in frustration. "I didn't mean a word of it," I said, but of course nobody knew I was that Ellie anymore.

Following the directions on my horoscope, I located the `religious center of my choice', well, the closest thing to it.

A small meditation booth in a remote and very inconvenient section of the temple was as close to Christian as things got around there.

It was called `The Church of the True Jesus'. Its door displayed a life sized image of White Hipster Jesus, wound free arms outstretched, with a Hindu _prana_ mark between his eyes.

Not a cross anywhere.

I stared at the ridiculous image. "What's all this? Why does he look like that? Where's the crosses and fish?"

"The cross offends people," Kamara said. "And the fish symbol is allowed only if it has legs. You know, _for_ _evolution._ "

The moment I opened the booth, a dead body fell out.


	29. Chapter 29: Mendoza

The victim had a ponytail and a wrinkled sun baked face. Male, roughly in his fifties. Long tunic, denim pants.

"Uncle Donnie!" Caitlyn wailed. "No! Not Uncle Donnie!"

She sobbed, rubbing tears out of her eyes. "I _knew_ I should have stayed in that cage! You back off a dare, you lose everything!"

I swallowed hard. "They'd really kill someone for not doing a stupid dare?"

Nemo leaned over the body, examining it closely. "I'm not a NERV player, but it's my understanding that they mostly reserve death threats for snitches. Everyone else just loses their life's savings."

 _"Unless Disney's in charge of the game..."_ Josh muttered.

None of the passerby seemed to care that a dead body lay in the booth, except in the way that you'd view a rotting deer carcass along the side of a highway. They gave the victim a disgusted glance, like the man's death was his own fault, and went on their way.

I checked the victim's pockets, but someone had already emptied them.

Kamara frowned at Caitlyn. "We need you to shut off your cameras."

The girl swallowed. "I'm about to get one hundred thousand out of this. Well, _I was..._ "

She pulled out her Google glasses, but Kamara growled, "Don't you dare!"

I said, "If they did this to your uncle, why would you keep playing?"

"I don't want to lose all my money." She then covered this by saying, "Anyways, you said NERV wasn't responsible."

"They're tracking us down because you keep playing that stupid game. You know that, don't you?"

"They're _paying_ me!" Caitlyn practically shouted. "I'm player number 100 on a list of eight million! Do you know what that even means!"

"Yes," Kamara spat. "You're a pathetic sycophant greedy for money and acceptance, and you sold us out to get into the top ten!"

Caitlyn burst into tears. Red lights flickered up and down Kamara's arm, as the cryer gained green.

"You need to be your own woman," I said. "This whole society is corrupt because too many people care too much about other people's opinions of them."

No lights. I glanced at my arm, then remembered I pulled out my chip.

"But if I don't care about that," Caitlyn whimpered. "I'll wind up forever alone, with no one to love or care for me!"

"If you're alone, you don't have to listen to people who say things like that."

"Right," Kamara added. "You don't need to care what other people think."

"But what about Afexun? What about my score?"

"It's because of you I almost got raped!" I shouted. "The man in white paid someone at NERV to-" I shuddered, clenching my fists.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't-"

I rubbed my face. "Forget it."

The girl was trembling. "Look. If you want to get revenge, I, I won't blame you..."

"I won't." I pointed to a cheesy Jesus picture. "He tells me to forgive. _The real guy does,_ at least."

I asked for her glasses. When she handed them over, I snapped them in half.

"My glasses! They're going to bankrupt my mom!"

"Worse things can happen." Believe me, I did not say this in a cheerful tone.

Kamara put a comforting hand on her shoulder. " _I just friended you._ "

Caitlyn sniffed, looking worried. "What about Donnie? _We have to do something with him!_ We can't just leave him like this!"

"That's another job for a different day," said Kamara. " _`Let the dead bury their own dead',_ right, Ellie?"

I know some things about the bible, but I'm no bible scholar, so I just gave her a blank stare.

Since I was the only person big enough for the job, I dragged the body into the booth.

"What will they do with him?" Caitlyn said. "What about his consciousness? Will he get a doll?"

"That's something God will take care of," I said.

 _"He's done a great job so far,"_ Nemo caustically remarked, closing the door.

"Why are we supposed to be _here_?" I wondered aloud.

Kamara poked the wall murals of Jesus tending and carrying sheep. _"We find a person dead in the place we're directed to visit._ Isn't that reason enough?"

"More like a reason to turn around," Caitlyn practically wept.

There wasn't much to the place. That's the best I could say about it.

A video monitor displayed a long haired actor in a robe made up to look like Jesus, silently mouthed words to me. I couldn't hear what he said because you needed a headphone jack. A keypad and palm chip scanner had been set up for offerings. If they offered an automated communion or baptism, I didn't see a place for it.

A yellow decal told us where to look on Afexun for heartwarming stories about how the Reader's Digest Jesus Machine touched lives.

As I turned to face the door, I saw a plaque with fancy lettering telling me how to be a `True Christian'. It sounded more like a Miss Manners advice column. Lots of do and do not, but no hope, no goal, no reassurance. In fact, a note at the bottom said, `Above all else, try not to be too disappointed by your religion. Jesus was a good role model when he simply helped people and showed tolerance to people of all faiths.'

"You have Catholics," I said. "But all these rules against religion."

Kamara examined the paneling around the monitor. "The pope made an ironclad decree out of the old adage, `Never discuss religion or politics in mixed company.' It's okay, as long as you don't share it with anyone, or offend atheists."

"But other people can still share stuff about their gods," I argued.

"Well, _there is_ a double standard, but, well, that's just how life is."

" _Gee_ ," I said with heavy sarcasm. " _That's swell._ "

Josh cleared his throat. "Okay. We're here. Now what?"

"Does anyone have earphones?" I asked.

Josh shook his head.

"They took everything away," said Kamara. "And even if we had some, I'm not sure they'd be very useful."

Josh nodded. "Knowing this place, he'd probably just say a bunch of flowery poetry."

Nemo took position by the door. "I'll keep watch."

" _This_ is your religion of choice?" Caitlyn asked me.

"Do you have a problem with that?"

But then, as I stared at my surroundings, I retracted by statement by saying, "The religion I believe in has more crosses in it."

"I still don't understand. You said it was all a lie. You told me so, right to my face."

I didn't feel like explaining. "Then I was wrong. What do _I_ know?"

Josh grabbed me around the neck, pulled me down to his level, poking my cheeks with his finger. "Is that really you in there?"

I sighed. "It is. _Honestly, that's why I feel really awkward around you right now._ "

I saw hurt and disappointment in his face, but he didn't say anything. He pretended to be staring at the mute video. "So...what are we supposed to do here again?"

I bowed my head. " _Pray_."

"Seriously?"

That's when I noticed a rather odd looking sheep on the wall near the floor.

I got down on my knees, examining it more closely.

"Jesus is over there," Caitlyn said.

"It's okay. He's also in my heart."

The sheep's realistically wrinkly wool had a raised circular marking on it, a yin-yang sign with one hemisphere standing out in a sharp letter D, overpowering the traditional Buddhist Pepsi swirl. This symbol connected to a line with a couple smaller lines intersecting it, one suspiciously cross-like, though upside down.

An up arrow and a north symbol pointed the yin-yang where it was supposed to be, in theory, perhaps to throw everyone off.

Caitlyn pointed to the image. "What's that? Some kind of Christian sign?"

"I...don't think so."

The circle had a little indentation on it, like you were supposed to use a small tool to move it around. When my fingernail didn't work, I asked Josh for his cross.

I jabbed a corner of it into the indentation, twisted the cross, and found the wheel actually turning.

I tried to straighten the stick cross, putting the yin on the bottom of the circle, but nothing happened.

"Maybe it's like a combination lock," Josh suggested.

Kamara pointed to a cursive squiggle embedded in the wool of a sheep on the opposite wall. "Chi Rho."

It suddenly snapped together.

Cutting my finger on a broken part of Josh's cross, I drew a big X through the intersection point below the yin, making it into a Chi Rho symbol, then turned the circle around until it matched the shape.

 _"Wow!"_ Josh's mouth hung open in absolute astonishment. "I didn't know you could melt things!"

I'd been meaning to have a _little talk_ with my _now little boyfriend_ about a few things, but I decided this really wasn't a good time.

"Did I mention that I love you?" he said.

"Careful, Ellie," Kamara said. "You're going to make him melt his robe."

Suppressing my embarrassment, I adjusted the position of the wheel.

Notches had been beautifully hidden within the sheep's coat. The moment they aligned with near invisible nicks in the turning disk, the black dot in the white section of the yin-yang dropped into the frame, and I was staring at a hole.

"Any more ideas, Ms. Indiana Jones?"

"One. Can you pull that dot off of Jesus's forehead?"

He came back a second later with a marble. "It's clear."

"It's not at all clear to me," Caitlyn complained.

Of course it _had_ to be clear. The hole was white, filling the interior of the letter P. When I pushed the marble in, the wall unfolded, and my silver suitcase fell out.

"How'd they know you'd be here?" Caitlyn breathed.

Nemo, who had noticed the sound of the wall opening, came in at once. "They didn't. There used to be Christian organizations within the parks. My dad belonged to one. They built a lot of stuff. They probably would have kept their jobs if dad hadn't argued so hard for heterosexual rights to welfare and family insurance. They told him not to use phrases like `regaining our rights', but he wouldn't listen." The boy shrugged.

"He wanted heterosexual married couples to have the same rights and privileges as gay ones. People heard that message and called him `Old fashioned', said he should `Go back to Nazi Jewmany.'"

I scrunched up my face. " _Nazi Jewmany?_ "

Nemo frowned. " _That's what they actually said._ The idiots play a couple video games at school and think they're know-it-all history professors. It's no wonder every college degree these days comes with an expiration date."

"I don't understand," I said. "Gay people's rights aren't that good."

Nemo burst out laughing. "Could've fooled me!"'

"Two sex marriages in America have been demoted to the status once given to civil unions," Kamara said. "They're not officially recognized as they used to be, and that's not just because of the non-heterosexuals. There's been a lot more single parent homes."

"Has she been living under a rock, or is she really with the Unified American party or something?"

"She doesn't even know what the UA is," Kamara said.

The suitcase, which once seemed to me like a fairly good sized valise, now felt no more substantial than the carrying case for one of those slimline laptops under my big arms.

I checked its contents, and found most everything there, including my photo album.

I thought about sticking one of my heavy pistols into the gap left by the missing mace canister, but decided not to, in case I needed it in a hurry.

 _"Jeez,"_ Josh muttered. _"Got enough condoms?"_

Kamara smirked. "Try those on and you won't be feeling anything downstairs for a long, long time."

"You mean like paralysis?"

 _"Not...exactly._ "

"Uh...no thanks."

You know how you sometimes give wrapped birthday and Christmas presents a desperate look before opening them? Like you know what will be inside already, but for one brief moment, you think that wishful thoughts will somehow make the present other than a sweatshirt and pajamas, that you'll open the metaphorical closed box and Schroedinger's cat will still be alive, so you refuse to unwrap the package, you know, keep the box shut? That's how I felt about the makeup compact. Not wanting that hope extinguished, I refused to open it.

I pocketed the Smurf blue lipstick, just in case the guns failed me. "So. We've got a hair drier that fires bullets, but we're still no closer to Sil. We can't even touch base with our team."

"Actually," Kamara said. "I think I have an idea. The only problem is, I think Disney might find our signal and track us down."

"They didn't find _the doll's_ signal, did they?"

Caitlyn goggled at me. _"That's a radio?"_

"I _thought_ something was strange about those dolls," Nemo said.

Kamara gave me this look like she thought it was a stupid idea.

Josh crossed his arms. "What about _Bountiful Life_? What's in there? Exploding cufflinks or something?"

Kamara stared at him. "That's genius!"

"What? What did I do?"

She placed the YME handbook below the video monitor, and the screen changed from the endlessly lecturing Jesus impostor to a giant telephone keypad.

"They can trace the line," Josh said. "Can't they?"

"We're only going to send a text." Kamara thumbed through the Hampton book, typing this coded message:

`Dear Prof X & team, I've gone 245.10.5 stps on the pedometer today. 8.2 got me to Epcot (2), 4.4 when I skipped m-rail, 7.1. and 6.5 respectively.

`Yest, did 270.8.8, walking from F-ship Town (3.5 (3), 7.1 to Haunt. Mans. & 6.4 (2) to Pirates.'

To a casual reader, it would seem as if Kamara had the legs of an Olympic athlete, but if you turned to page 245 in _Bounteous_ , there's a fluff piece on freed slaves and Jesus loving children (and, according to Hampton, accepting their homosexual practices as normal), a passage about God raising the dead on page 270 (done in such a way that it could apply to any religion), and, in yet another passage about seeking gold, Jimmy talks about sifting through `silt' to get to gold nuggets.

By coordinating page, paragraph and sentence number, our intended recipient would hopefully decipher this hidden message:

`Children slaves liberated. Seekers want us dead. No sign of Silt. Need advice.'

"How do you know all this stuff about that book?" I asked as she sent the message.

"I had special classes. _There were tests over it._ We planned to use them in Gaza."

"When did all this happen?"

"Probably when you were in other classes, or at home with your parents. Learning Town may have been built for you and your copies, but the world didn't end when you weren't around." She continued typing on the handbook screen.

"What are you doing now?"

"Applying a scrambler to our RFID information. With any luck, they'll only get details about where we were an hour ago, or blips about twenty yards from our current location." She changed the screen back to Reader's Digest Jesus.

"That's great, but how will they find us or contact us without Disney finding us first?"

"We probably shouldn't be seen with the team at all. As for contacting us, Xave and the others should have your YME manual's encryption key. They'll figure something out."

Caitlyn stared at the monitor. "You think Donnie and Daddy are with your Jesus in heaven?"

I swallowed. "Do you want to hear the popular version, or the right one? Because if you want the popular one, you'll need earphones..."

"What's the right one?"

Kamara said no with her eyes.

"Is this part of a dare?" I said. "Are you still recording?"

"What good would that do me? I can't see the instructions without my glasses."

I opened my mouth to say something, but at that moment, Nemo, who had been peeking out the door, suddenly blurted, "We got company."

Sure enough, Charon and a pair of jar headed Disney officers had come wading through the crowd of religious nuts, sifting through them with their beady eyes.

The costumed woman caught sight of me before I spotted her, her expression gleeful as she pointed us out to the officers.

"We have to get out of here," Kamara said.

I reached into my jacket. "I got two guns."

She shook her head. "I'd save your bullets. We don't want to hurt innocent people."

"I don't think anyone here is truly innocent."

"Maybe so, but let's not make enemies out of everyone by shooting random bystanders, okay?"

I clenched my fists. She had a point.

Caitlyn pointed to the open panel. "Wait. What's that?"

We all looked and found a cardboard box, marked with the image of a laughing crow. I hurriedly tore it open, and found five orange robes and the type of rubber skullcaps you use in theatrical productions.

Caitlyn took out a tambourine. "I don't understand. What's all this?"

Kamara stuffed a robe under her armpit, throwing a second to Josh. " _We've just found Krishna._ "

She gave one to Caitlyn, and another to Nemo, but mine was too small to be of any use. "Put these on, but only when you're in the crowd. Try to blend in."

"You _do_ realize I'm naked under this," Josh said. "Don't you?"

Kamara sighed in frustration. "Then put it on under what you're wearing now, and take off the leather thing later." She turned her back so he could do just that.

I, Caitlyn and Nemo did the same.

"This robe feels like burlap," Josh complained as he tied his waist sash.

When Nemo opened the booth again, the police were pretty much outside the door, give or take a yard or so. "If we're going to go, we need to go now."

The crowd wasn't as thick as we would have liked. I silently gestured for the kids to run ahead of me (I figured they still thought I was twelve), and start blending in, joining the first Krishna group they could find.

I thought I heard people murmuring something like "cocoon girl" but it stopped whenever they got close to the booth.

Josh had no trouble finding a bald adult in orange to follow. Kamara's head looked a little swollen due to the `cap-fro' but she also put up a convincing act.

Unfortunately, the cops caught Caitlyn, and when I glanced at Kamara, she just gave me a sad shake of her head.

I caught a glimpse of Nemo with his hand on a computer panel, then the whole building went dark.

Night vision! It had been some time before I had truly attempted to use that particular talent.

The police weren't ready for the dark, but I was.

I rushed to the Caitlyn shaped blob, punched both police officer shaped blobs in the face, and clubbed a tall wiry one in the head with his own nightstick.

Dragging the girl behind me, I rushed back to the spot where I'd left my little suitcase, but I noticed Nemo already walking off with it, so I rushed after him.

He had lights on his computer glasses, allowing him to see where he was going. He nearly jumped through the ceiling when I tapped him on the shoulder. "Don't do that!"

"Sorry. Have you seen Josh and Kamara?"

" _I can't see anything_. I'm trying to track their chips, _but if I can track them..._ "

I frowned. "You know this park. Where's a good place to hide?"

He checked his glasses. "We can use the place of the Disney Art Department Newhires director. With the exception of a really good sexual favor, they only add someone if a staff member kicks the bucket, so he's always at his beach house."

"Thanks for saving me," Caitlyn murmured to me.

I gave her a little smirk, but she couldn't see it.

The lights came back on so suddenly that I couldn't see for a moment.

"Ellie!" Kamara cried as she rushed up to me. "You got her! Thank God!"

When my eyes focused, I found myself in a huddle of little Hare Krishnas.

"Quick. Let's get out of here."

A parade now traveled through Festival Avenue, with costumed characters, animated dinosaurs, and the widest assortment of gay burlesque dancers and wildly flamboyant crossdressers that side of Vegas.

I saw several synthetic humans amid the crowd, their bodies modified to look like cats and mice and rabbits, selling concessions by palm chip exchange.

A noisy crowd flocked around a parade float bearing enough multicolored plumage to make a peacock jealous. We hurried into its concealment, ditching our costumes. Josh, lacking better clothing to change into, was the only one who didn't commit `apostasy' against the Krishnas, so to speak.

Nemo lead us to an elevator swamped with people. "The apartment is in Hawaii."

"Hawaii!" I cried. "We can't go there!"

"Why not?"

Rolling her eyes, Kamara pointed to a spot on the park map.

"Oh," I mumbled with embarrassment. " _That_ Hawaii."

I felt a wave of revulsion as I remembered the illustration from the children's book at Learning Town, telling me my vacation to that island was all an illusion.

It seemed I would be visiting the illusion once again, in a slightly different form.

We pushed our way into the elevator, making sure we stood along the back end, so we wouldn't be spotted through the big glass window.

"Why are we riding in this?" I asked.

"You want to walk to Hawaii, or do you want to take the monorail?"

The moment the doors shut, I knew we were in trouble. People texted feverishly on their arms with their glasses on, taking pictures by making squares with their fingers, muttered into the air about us.

Now that we were up close and personal, in this confined space, I could quite clearly hear them muttering "cocoon girl."

"Aren't you on NERV?" a woman with cat makeup asked me. "The one that burst out of a cocoon?"

"No," I said.

"What do you have against Afexun?" said a man with a haircut and earrings like someone in a Star Wars prequel

"Do you really want to be forever alone?"

My little speech had been recorded. I stared at Caitlyn with nervous discomfort.

The elevator took us to a dizzying height, but we mostly saw people's backs, and the digital advertising for fine restaurants on the side doors. Apparently they had a nudist restaurant in Africa zone, and a Japanese place where you could eat sushi off a naked woman's body.

From my limited vantage point, between an `Equality' t-shirt and a male in a sequin bikini and feather boas, I caught a few glimpses of the park. The castles took on the appearance of He-Man playsets from that height, the pirate ships making me think of the kind you put inside a bottle with a set of tweezers and a magnifying glass.

A corvette startled me as it rocketed by the window on a raised two lane Autobahn.

"The only place where you can drive like that," Kamara muttered.

"How does this boat not capsize from all the weight?"

"They used to say the same thing about putting a tank on an aircraft carrier."

Nemo had his computer glasses on. "Bad news," he whispered to me. "There's a reward for your capture. They just put it on the Headhunter site a second ago."

I swallowed. "What now?"

He only shrugged.

The elevator stopped, the doors sliding open on a busy sidewalk, dotted with video kiosks and electronic billboards.

As we stepped out, one of my fellow passengers, Mr. Sequins, attempted to pin my arm behind my back, but I shot him with my other and ran out of the car.

I knocked over a black man with a picture of a dead relative on his shirt. To me, things like that made no more sense than dolls or the simulation, but I'd seen dozens of people with the same idea. I frowned and kept going.

A few yards down this walk, this scaffolding, we came upon a futuristic looking train stop, joining the mobs of people lined up at the corrals at the magnetic train tracks. Gay couples in pastel clothes and well dressed lesbians occupied all the waiting benches.

The moment we got close to one of the corrals, the heads of several digital glass wearing people turned to stare at us at the same time like a bunch of robots with their power suddenly switched on. Actual synthetic humans also turned to look at us in an equally mechanical fashion. I felt like I was in _The Matrix_ being hunted by Agent Smith clones.

My face appeared on the billboards, then the kiosks, coupled with criminal and reward information, in English and in Spanish. It seemed I'd gained quite a rap sheet.

Every single parson in that giant mob stared at me all at once.

"You know those dreams where you're naked in public and everyone is looking?" I said.

"Been living in one for the last hour," Josh muttered.

A moment later, his picture appeared on half of the screens. More warnings and reward information. "Okay. I'd like to wake up now."

A monorail train rushed to our stop, locking itself into place with the hiss of pneumatic machinery. The doors, however, did not open. Electronic billboards on the side of the vehicle explained that they wouldn't open until the police restrained my group, and the first person to trap one of us got the money.

The mob swallowed us up.

I fought back valiantly, firing shots into the air, and into anyone that got near. This cleared a space for me, as people shouted and ran away to a safe distance, where they stood like zombies, rubbernecking and pointing at victims like it were some kind of live performance entertainment. I heard laughter.

Despite the territory gained, my success was short lived. I got jumped from behind, a pair of burly Priscilla Queen of the Desert types pinning my arms behind my back.

My guns and suitcase got taken from me, and the kids got grabbed by a pair of strong men in colorful Disney t-shirts.

Kamara, momentarily in possession of my suitcase, short two people with the hair drier before the firing mechanism stopped working and a man with KISS Spaceman makeup trapped her against a monorail car.

The men tied my arms and legs up with electrical cables.

A couple fist fights broke out, but they got abruptly stopped by warnings that they were all under surveillance, and credit was non-transferable. Any attempts to attack our captors would be a punishable Federal offense, interfering with police, aiding and abetting a wanted fugitive, and so forth. We therefore had no hope from that quarter of greed and human stupidity.

Pop pop pop pop pop pop pop!

I turned my head and saw bullets whizzing through the air in rapid succession, mowing down rows of people in flashes of blood and bone. A wheelchair toppled over, the occupant falling facedown in a pool of blood.

The bullets flashed from the muzzle of an AK-47 in seemingly indiscriminate fashion, maiming, crippling and killing everyone in its path.

My eyes looked up to the owner of the gun, a female in a small tight fitting red suit top, white turtleneck and gray spandex leggings, a costume vaguely resembling the one worn by Rebecca on the _Talespin_ cartoon.

A deformed baby sized monstrosity accompanied her, an eyeless lamprey mouthed pill bug thing that darted through the crowd, latching onto people's bodies and eating bloody holes through anything soft and vulnerable.

"What the fuck is that!" said one of the burlesque dancers holding me.

"That," I answered. "Is Sil. And...her baby."

Sil pointed the gun my way and fired.

I flinched, expecting the bullets to rip through me, but instead they blew through one of my sequined captors. She nailed another with a second burst, then shot down the people who had been with them, those who assisted my restraint.

"How'd you get so big?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I went through a change too."

"Take your friends and go home, Ellie. If you leave me in peace, I'll let you be."

I briefly wondered how she knew my name, but then I thought about the billboards. "You know I can't do that. People are dying because of you."

"Take a look around you, Ellie. Can you look me in the eyes and tell me these bastards deserve to live?"

I looked into her eyes, but the words didn't come. I heard a man scream as Sil's baby attacked another person.

"Don't think about it too hard," she said, cutting through my bonds with a boot knife.

"Where did you find the gun?"

"The police here are well stocked. Actually... _were._ I learned how to use past tenses from a video game."

"So you took all the guns."

 _"I took what I could carry._ On a couple trips."

I looked around for Josh and Kamara, but they were gone.

Sil noticed my glance. "The boy is an escape artist. Admirable, for a human."

She put another clip in her gun, standing up.

"Put the weapon down!" someone barked.

A SWAT team appeared on a nearby staircase, a group of scary looking men in bulletproof vests training their guns on Sil's unprotected back.

She made no move.

"Now!" the voice yelled.

Her child did not obey either. After getting over their initial shock, the SWAT officers opened fire on the pillbug thing, but it kept darting behind people, and they had to stop shooting to avoid injuring someone.

I thought they would be the `end justifies the means' types, but a female SWAT agent kept shouting, "Civilian! Hold your fire!" I couldn't decide if this were a good or a bad thing.

Angered at the threat to her offspring, Sil spun around, firing off a few quick bursts, but she got hit in the leg and shoulder.

She gave me one last glance. "If you really want to be my friend, let me be a mother."

Sil jumped over the monorail car, getting shot once more, though not any more than that because the other cops were too busy staring and saying "What the fuck?"

Sil's baby ripped open the shooter's jugular before again vanishing into the crowd.

"Ellie!" I heard Kamara saying in a stage whisper.

A plump hand frantically waved me over to an open compartment on the side of the monorail, a desperate coffee brown face giving me a pleading look.

The compartment was too small. I mouthed the word no, gesturing for her to go without me.

Her eyes said she was afraid for me, but believed I could do whatever I set my mind to. The compartment slid shut.

I didn't see Josh, Caitlyn or Nemo, but I figured they were also on the monorail. It seemed I was on my own.

My best guess was that the monorail ran the circuit of the park, going all the way south before turning around a bend and shooting up north, so I ran left, attempting to wade through the crowd of onlookers.

The electronic signs all updated, showing new reward offers for my capture.

People made frames with their fingers, closing in on me.

I applied Smurf Blue to my lips, careful not to swallow any.

A Mohawked man in a tank top grabbed me, but I kissed him on the cheek. The fast acting poison caused him to collapse on the ground. I didn't understand why the stuff didn't do that to me, from being on my lips, but then again, I wasn't exactly human.

People backed off, avoiding the frontal assault. This would have been great, but they kept sneaking around my back, trying to catch me off guard.

A fat bearded guy with glasses, kinda resembling actor Zak Orth, tried to grab me, with the help of a woman with Justin Bieber hair, and the mob came close to overtaking me the moment I knocked the two onto the pavement.

 _"I know you're out there somewhere, somewhere, somewhere...I know you're out there somewhere, somewhere you can hear my voice..."_

The Moody Blues. My eyes widened as I stared at the billboards, computer terminals and kiosks.

Instead of my picture, every single one of the screens now displayed an old video of Justin Hayward singing in front of a microphone with his mellow rock band.

People took off their computer glasses, attempting to type messages on their arms, but their arms now only served as vertical sound graphs for the music.

I capitalized on this distraction, pushing my way north through the mob.

"I'd stop if I were you, cocoon girl," I heard a thickly accented voice calmly speaking through a megaphone. "Your little friend here is guilty of treason against the United States government. That carries the death penalty. _We might be able to bring it down to life if you cooperate."_

I looked back and saw Hombre Blanco holding Nemo at gunpoint.

"Ready when you are, Mendoza," I heard a cop with spiked pink hair and claw earrings saying as he placed the gun to the boy's temple.

I stopped, casting the crowd a desperate glance. Surely the general public wouldn't approve of murdering children...would they?

The monitors filled with live video of the boy at gunpoint, the man in white giving his consent, and me, reacting to all this. A camera drone flew at level with my face.

I wasn't quite sure who was behind this, but the media seemed to have temporarily swung in my favor, so I used the moment to my advantage. "You're going to kill an innocent child in cold blood? In front of all these people?"

My voice boomed like a god as all devices relayed my words at the same time.

A drone flew to the man in white, giving him his turn to speak. I noticed he walked funny, probably because of his injury. "Was Abe Sabaron innocent when he took down that American Defense system and blew up busloads of people in Connecticut? Was Florence Kennedy when she took that rifle to school and blew away random people on the sidewalk? You think you can get sympathy from this crowd, when children like this brought down New York and DC?"

I stared at him, wondering if he'd just made up all those stories. My blank and sometimes shocked facial expressions did nothing to win me any popularity.

" _Of course a_ science experiment _made by some_ terrorist government _like yourself wouldn't understand something like_ that _!..._ Everybody, would you rather me execute this boy, or have a bunch of fundamentalist Muslims come in here, chop off a bunch of people's heads, and force all of you women to wrap yourselves up like mummies to appease some nonexistent god?

"Show of hands: Execute this little traitor, or let towel heads take another state or two, take America back to the stone age where they enslave women and chop off your hands if they don't like your face."

He raised his left hand, soliciting crowd response. "Dark ages?"

Nobody raised their hand.

"C'mon! Nobody?"

A couple people did, but they got beaten up.

"Wait," I said. "How does someone from the dark ages have science experiments?"

 _"By taking it from our government,_ as usual!" He put up his other hand. "Who's for executing terrorists!"

Note how he didn't mention the age of the alleged terrorist.

Everyone's hands slowly raised.

"See? _No one cares about your friend but you!_ If you want him to live, you'd best give yourself up."

I walked back through the crowd, arms raised in surrender.

Nemo shook his head. "Go!" he mouthed. "Leave me."

I couldn't bring myself to do it. I crept closer.

"No!" he shouted. "Run away! You're too important!"

The screens suddenly lit up with the image of the man, showing a bunch of negative items from his work record.

Extortion.

Embezzlement, loads of it, misappropriating civic funds for cocaine, private jets and other items.

Rape. Apparently it was still illegal.

I froze in one spot, staring at what I read in disbelief.

"Those are restricted government files!" Mendoza shouted. "It's all a con game to shift the blame on me while he helps those bastard Muslims take over the country! Breaking into the FBI database is the same kind of treason Abe Sabaron committed to bring Washington to its knees!"

The roar of the crowd told me that the court of public opinion disagreed. The embezzlement issue had hit them squarely in the pocketbook. People threw trash and soda bottles at him.

"Each one of you that attacks me is handing America to Al Buraq on a silver platter!"

"Yeah?" a man in the crowd hollered. _"It's silver you stole from us!"_

"Is that a bible reference?" someone else asked.

"What happened to the separation of church and state?"

"Stop her!" Mendoza shouted to the other cops, waving at the monitors. "Get an information security crackdown on this immediately."

The screens flashed video recordings of Mendoza threatening me with rape, abusing me sexually.

I wasn't sure how the video had been obtained, but I resented their existence, for the simple fact that the cameraman did nothing to stop it.

I thought the crowd wouldn't care about this, or start drooling, but it seemed to incense them even further. I guess even depraved, child marrying people have limits.

A fat faced guy with a Fu Manchu mustache, who had been talking into the air, in attempts to aid Mendoza, now turned to him and muttered, "The whole system's infected. We're going to need to shut down the entire communications network."

"Just do it, damn you!" he said, shielding himself from another flying water bottle. "This is turning into a lynch mob!"

All the screens darkened, flashed blue, and a series of chords played as the Microsoft logo appeared on all of them.

The crowd closed in on Mendoza. More objects got thrown.

I waded my way in, intending to snatch my friend and run off, but too many people blocked my way.

"Thank God guns are illegal," muttered a tall wrestler of an officer with tattoos running up and down his arms.

A muscular female cop with a terrible tan job and a short Carol Burnett hairstyle threatened the crowd with her rifle. "FBI! Stand back!"

"I'm sick of your shit, you little son of a bitch!"

Mendoza pulled out a pistol, shooting Nemo in the head. "Teach you to fuck with me!"

"No!" I sobbed.

The crowd noise raised to a deafening level.

"What!" Mendoza barked at them all. "Fuck you! I did America a _service_!"

He tried to shoot me, but too many people stood in the way.

"You bring me down," he growled. "I take you to fucking hell with me!"

He aimed at me, but I ducked. A big nosed man in a green and white shirt fell dead on the pavement.

A short overweight blonde in Goth makeup punched Mendoza in the face, and the mob threw him over the railing.

Caitlyn ran to my side, clutching my hand tightly.

All of a sudden, the air filled with a pounding, thrumming sound, our hair and clothing blowing all around us like a freak windstorm had hit the barge.

Noting how Caitlyn kept craning her neck, staring upwards with her mouth hanging open, I looked that way and saw a large shimmering object hovering above my head, a big round thing with the diameter of two semi trailers laid end to end.

The object gained definition, coming out of its `cloak mode', and I could see it had a vaguely ovoid shape, with a set of tapering compartments on one side that gave the object an appearance of a giant digit from an animal claw.

This huge thing, this ship, hovered lower and lower, bowling people down with blasts of a non-lethal sonic weapon that left them groaning on the ground. A hatch opened on its armor plated hull.

Since monitors and glasses and stuff had returned to normal now, everyone snapped pictures.

A boarding ramp came down, and out marched a pair of armored creatures with crab mouths, dreadlocks, and bumpy foreheads.

When I saw who accompanied them, I burst into tears of joy. "Ernie!"

The crowd clapped, cheered and took pictures of the creatures, like they were just another theme park show.

The crab men carried weapons that looked like rifles, which they pointed at the crowd, adjusting settings on this or that weapon component as their triangular laser sights shifted targets threateningly.

I dragged the girl up to the craft, cautiously waving to the creatures.

The crab things motioned with their guns, silently directing me onboard.

Noting my look of hesitation, Ernie said, "It's okay. _They're friends._ "

Up ahead, I saw the entryway of the craft, a hard angular compartment with doors like closed monster mouths. No windows or chairs or visible means of further ingress.

I pushed Caitlyn ahead of me, but she cried when she saw Ernie, refusing to move.

"Don't be frightened, child," Ernie urged. " _I am a vegetarian._ "

Losing patience with her, I spun around, turning my attention to the monorail. "Josh! Kamara! Over here! Hurry!"

A compartment on the train popped open, a mocha colored face frowning at me from within.

"Why aren't we going?" said a voice I hadn't heard in a long time.

 _"Weyland._ " I clenched my fists, then unclenched them. "We're missing some people."

I gave Kamara a few more frantic waves.

My friend looked uncertain, but still popped out, dragging Josh with her.

The two raced to the ramp, staring nervously at the crab things as they huddled around me.

The crab men growled something, but I couldn't understand it. They explained more explicitly by waving their guns. I swallowed and ushered my friends into the forbidding compartment ahead.

The ramp retracted, the hatch sliding closed behind us.

"So," Weyland said to me. " _You're an adult now._ How does it feel?"

I punched him in the face.

Mr. Weyland held his nose in attempts to stop the bleeding. " _Nice to see you too._ "

"You should forgive him," Ernie said. "As our Lord himself did."

I sighed. "Forgiving is a hard thing to do. Plus I was out there fighting everyone just to avoid being carried off to jail." I swallowed. " _Or worse._ "

I thought Ernie looked a little saddened by this, but it was hard to tell. " _I've seen the recording of worse._ I'm thankful to not have such sexual vulnerabilities, as enjoyable as they may have been in pleasanter voluntary circumstances."

It was then that I noticed how different my friend looked from when we previously met. Her head had sort of a natural tiara around it, like a triceratops, and her rear end had developed a bulbous ant-like abdomen. "You've changed."

"As have you."

I smiled and shook my head. "I've been meaning to do this for a long time," I said, wrapping my arms around her exoskeleton.

She purred and patted my back. "It has been a long time since I have been embraced. I nearly forgot what it felt like."

"Look," Weyland said. "This is all very touching, but we still have a dangerous alien running around loose. Unless you _actually want_ her to keep killing people..."

I didn't say I didn't. "I don't know anymore. They're enslaving children down there. Making them do sexual things. If Sil kills a few of those people here and there, it seems like God's will to me. It'll make this world a better place."

"Ellie," Kamara scolded. "Sil's going to kill people willy-nilly, guilty and innocent alike. She already has."

Ernie nodded. "She's right. Our Lord came not to save the righteous, but sinners. The least we can do is try to do the same."

The air shimmered. I flinched as a second being of Ernie's species appeared next to her.

"Don't be afraid," Ernie said. "This is Ssunamrozedrah, my niece."

I gave the stranger a nod. "How do you do."

The crab creatures growled something. Ssunamrozedrah growled back, then spoke to Ernie in the same tongue.

"The Yautja tire of hovering over this boat. They want to know where we are going."

I looked at Kamara. "Did you say the Homeschoolers lived in Nebraska?"

"We're not going to live with the Homeschoolers!" Kamara groaned. " _Maybe later, after we stop Sil!_ "

"We need to go north. To Hawaii," Josh said. "Nemo said the HR director's place is vacant."

"Speaking of Nemo," I blurted. "Can we please go back and retrieve the body? He deserves a decent burial."

Weyland clicked on a monitor, showing a crowd gathered around the boy's body, a pair of people in medical leotards bearing him by stretcher into an elevator. "I believe arrangements will be made."

I sniffed and rubbed my eyes.

Ssunamrozedrah relayed the directions to the Yautja, and we were led into a room full of cages of different sizes, or maybe prison cells, all built in vaguely gourd-like shapes, each sealed with glass and wreathed in cold fog from refrigeration devices.

Spotting Zack frozen like popsicles in two of these pods, I pointed. "Is that absolutely necessary? To have them stuck in cold storage like that?"

"Yes," Weyland answered. "They hijacked the airbus and shot Mr. Yutani in the head. We can't afford to have them awake or mobile."

"I _knew_ my uncle was a badass!" Josh breathed.

Weyland glared at him, his expression sour and scolding. "Mr. Yutani was a friend and business partner. There's nothing cool about murder."

Josh's eyes widened. "He actually _shot_ someone?"

"No. _His associate did."_

"Sorry," Josh mumbled. "I'm just amazed that my uncle could bring down a big assed plane like that."

"I would have been more impressed if he could have flown it to a safe area and landed it like a real pilot. In fact, I would have overlooked his criminal record and worked him into the air division."

Another monster mouth opened, and we entered a bridge, one containing computer consoles, a cluster of gun turrets (for what type of gun I wasn't sure) and large unidentifiable streamlined pieces of machinery.

Parts of the walls, floors and ceiling displayed views of the park, the crowded monorail station where park medical technicians treated dozens of victims, the ones that hadn't died already.

I looked around for a place to sit, but only found seats in the turrets.

Ssunamrozedrah told me only two Yautja remained alive. Sil had killed all the others.

Throughout this entire time, Caitlyn didn't speak, she just kept close to me, clutching my hand, her other hand pressed to her mouth.

"These are some pretty impressive weapons," Josh said. "Why can't we just fly after Sil and blow her up with a photon torpedo or something?"

Weyland said, "You don't drop an atomic bomb to kill one cockroach. We want to keep the human casualties to a minimum. Certainly, if you can flush her into a clear open area, we can make the attempt, but so far she's eluded us, retreating into places we can't safely hit without killing crowds of people."

" _Gay people_ ," I said.

"They're still people, Ellen."

"Then close off the park and blow it up!"

Weyland sighed. "Even if the property damages wouldn't bankrupt my entire company, you forget that your friend can read and understand English. _If the parkgoers know, she knows_. You move the dog, the flea travels with it. Plus I hear most of these guns aren't even operational."

"That's why sneaking into this HR guy's place is a good idea," Kamara said. "We can..."

She wrinkled her nose, glancing at Josh and I with an expression of disgust. " _...Get cleaned up_ , meet with Xave, see if we can plan out some way to stop Sil without killing everybody."

"How do we even know where this place is?" I asked. "Nemo's dead!"

Looking sad, Kamara said, "He gave me the directions before he got captured."

The Yautja brought an image of the park map up on one of the screens, and with Ernie and her relative's helpful translations, they got the directions to the HR guy's apartment entered and set a course.

Caitlyn still refused to speak. She was like a shy child clutching at her mother's apron strings.

"I think I'm old enough to lay socmavaj," Ernie said to me. "Do you understand?"

I furrowed my brow. "You'll lay eggs like your grandmother?"

She nodded. "I don't know what I'll do with them. No human being in their right mind is going to want one in their body. Perhaps someone can find a nice _cow_ or two?"

" _Maybe._ Where's Pillow?"

"The extraction team is currently transporting her and the four children back to the island," Weyland said.

 _"Four?"_

The man nodded. "She recently laid a new egg. It was really quite fascinating. I should have recorded it."

He winced, rubbed his forehead like he had a headache.

He blinked at me, appearing to be very confused. "Were we talking about something?"

I looked at him like he were crazy. " _...No._ "

I suddenly noticed Golic squatting in the back of the room, muttering something to a black and white bug in a little cage, poking the sides of its glass enclosure.

The bug, some hybrid of scorpion and a giant tarantula, rammed its stinger into the glass, making the man giggle with glee.

"I tried to have that man frozen," Weyland said. "But...it seems I'm not in charge here."

 _"Really!"_ I cried, trying very badly to conceal my excitement. "Then who is?"

He sighed heavily, pointing to Ssunamrozedrah.

"And she came back for _me?_ "

His facial expression told me that it wasn't his idea, but he might have made a few suggestions. "They _seem convinced_ that they need you to rescue their grandmother and get back into space."

 _"And you had nothing to do with it._ "

He gave me a wry smirk. "I may have told them that you refused to help until you stopped Sil, and they might want to stick around for this little hunting expedition. They _love_ hunting. I suppose we'll have to negotiate ownership rights once we actually bag our prey."

"Sil's just a girl. Like me."

 _"Understatement of the year."_

The monitors now showed `Hawaii' below us, basically a giant floating country club with Tiki huts, grass skirted wahinis, and a single massive realistic looking volcano, all connected to the `mainland' by a bridge and several thick support beams. Giant nets kept the flying golf balls from dropping into the Strait.

"Guys," Kamara said. "We're here."

The craft descended on a neighborhood of stacked tropical style condos, ones reminding me of things I'd seen in reruns of `Five-Oh', hovered along an adobe shingled roof flanked with palm trees, to a patio with designer furniture and a glass deck table with an umbrella.

I faced my companions, asking with my eyes whether or not they'd come with us.

Weyland stared at me. "You just punched me in the face, and you want me to come along?"

I frowned. _"You have the power and influence. You're an adult._ " I didn't say it aloud, but I also wanted him to join me in this hell.

The man shook his head. "I can't. I might have another episode. You wouldn't want that if you got caught trespassing."

I turned my attention to Ernie. "I could be laying eggs any minute now. It wouldn't be safe."

"We will be watching you," said Ssunamrozedrah. "Vodzetu and Estalix are sick. They must remain here and receive medical treatment until it is time to hunt."

"We'll search the park," Weyland said. "The sensors are damaged, but there may be some way to trace Sil's aberrant genetics."

Slumping my shoulders, I looked at the children. "I guess it's just us, like before."

"I'd rather not go down in that park again," Josh said. "You think we could just kinda hang out and plan our attack _here_?"

"I thought you wanted _clothes_ ," Kamara said.

Weyland sniffed, then grimaced. "A _shower_ would be good, too."

Josh furrowed his brow. "You're saying that you don't have showers or clothes here?"

Weyland pointed to a Yautja's armor. "I don't think these suits come in a junior size, and even if they did, I'm not certain they keep their genitals in the same place. You might find it uncomfortable."

Josh tugged on the sleeve of his orange robe. "Can't be more uncomfortable than this!"

"No showers," Kamara said with a frown.

"As far as I can tell, these creatures clean themselves with equipment inside their suits."

"Do we even have time for this?"

"We're no closer than we were before. Unless Sil starts shooting again, we don't know where she is. You might as well find this apartment so you can keep searching."

"You are ever in my prayers," Ernie said to me.

Caitlyn suddenly broke her shy silence to cry, "I had a dream about you! You helped me out of hell!"

I glanced at Ernie, then at her.

Golic jumped to his feet, grabbing her by the shoulder. "My Lord Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik and her Grandmother are the only ones who save!" he shouted.

"Do not listen to him," Ernie said. "He is deranged, but means well."

Caitlyn didn't get it. "Thank you for saving me from hell."

"Amen!" Golic agreed.

Ernie smacked a claw to her slimy face. "Not you too! If I wore a garment, I would tear it in protest against this blasphemy! Seek Jesus, child! _Jesus_! The thong of whose sandals I am unworthy to untie!"

"He's right," I hissed, squeezing her hand. "Let's go."

Golic grinned. "Yes. _Let's go._ "

 _"I think you'd better stay on the ship,"_ Weyland replied. "Your god may require your help!"

Golic responded with exaggerated bows of his head. "Yes, yes! You're absolutely right! I must not leave Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik when she is so near to bringing the end to the age!"

Weyland cast Golic a resentful glance, then turned his attention to me. "Before you go, perhaps you should take some weapons."

Ssunamrozedrah brought out an armful of strange devices, a small communication device, a pair of guns that looked like crab claws, one cloaking device, a retractable spear, a dart gun with a variety of poisons to choose from, and a switchblade that you clamped to your wrist.

We stowed the items and disembarked, looking around the building's rooftop.

They had a pool, jacuzzi, and several entertainment screens.

The place looked deserted. We used an automatic socket wrench we found to work the bolts off of a ventilation grille.

I heard the loud humming noises again, felt the rushing wind as the craft rose into the air.

As I turned to watch it depart, I noticed its cloaking flickering on and off, like it were malfunctioning.

"What's going on with the ship?"

Kamara stopped unfastening the panel, looking up. "I don't know, maybe something's broken? Not like we can do anything about it anyway." She off another bolt.

The ship rose upwards, shifted direction, hovering over a fake Japanese city.

With shocking speed, a brass dragon atop a skyscraper rotated to face the spaceship, opening its glistening gold maw.

The dragon breathed fire, and a surface to air missile.

The spaceship exploded.


	30. Chapter 30: Love Boat

We watched, open mouthed, as the spaceship fell crashing into a simulated Chinatown.

I've read somewhere that a Tomahawk Cruise Missile or something like it can cost upwards from 1.5 million dollars, probably more with inflation. Not a big deal for a company with a god-like supply of money.

The communication device strapped to my wrist was a mess of alien symbols. When I pushed random buttons in attempts to communicate with my friends, I only pulled up a holographic video of a cat dancing to ZZ Top's _Sharp Dressed Man_ , and some girl at a pizza joint rattling off a scripted greeting.

"You're tapping into the Afexun system," Kamara said. "Let me see that."

She poked some buttons, but only brought up the cat video gain.

She groaned, shook her head, worked the vent cover fully open.

I couldn't fit inside, but Kamara could. She climbed inside, Josh, Caitlyn and I keeping watch around the roof in case, I don't know, some cops entered the building, or a guy popped out on the roof.

"So...Ernie saved you too?" Caitlyn asked me.

 _"It's not Ernie!"_ I cried.

"I know. She has a different name."

I sighed, pushing her backwards until she plopped down on a deck chair. "Caitlyn. You heard Ernie. She's a _Christian_. You were dreaming about her because she bears a message from Jesus, and God wanted you to come to her so you could hear it."

She stared at me. "Then what was I supposed to hear? You never told me about your beliefs, or hers."

I sat down on the folding beach chair next to her, sharing my faith.

"That... _guy_... _on the spaceship..._ Why does he think that Ernie is God?"

"I don't know. He's a weirdo."

"Says a girl that grows ten years in one night and melts things with her blood."

"Okay, so _I'm weird too. But you don't see me worshiping those aliens._ "

"So Ernie doesn't save you from hell. Jesus does. Is that it?"

I nodded.

"And he can save me?"

"Yes." I explained how it worked, and converted her.

I'm not sure I did such a great job, for then she asked me, "You think hell is designed to cook souls so they're well done enough for God to eat?"

I gawked at her.

"I mean, if God looks like that creature we saw in the ship, He could probably eat a few people, couldn't he?"

Then she asked, "Did Jesus hatch from a cocoon too?"

I rolled my eyes.

The rooftop door opened. Kamara stuck her head out, waving us in. "You'd better hurry. I shut off the alarm, and the cameras are on a loop, but there are still _people_ in the building."

I darted into a hallway decorated in seemingly endless erotically themed sculptural reliefs, the subject matter one big cartoon orgy, animals and people alike, all ages, in every conceivable sexual position. It seemed like the kind of place Caligula would have appreciated.

"This must be the family room," Kamara muttered sarcastically.

A game room stood at the end of the hall, with pool tables, darts and a one lane bowling alley. We spotted a woman and her personal trainer doing yoga in the middle of the room, so we tiptoed and kept our voices low.

We faced a row of arched doorways guarded by animal headed anatomically correct Egyptian gods.

One of these doors had been propped ajar with a sex toy. Kamara pushed it all the way open, and we entered a lavish drawing room with thickly padded suede chairs and sofas, a small movie theater with cushioned seats, a dining room/kitchen that looked like a miniature restaurant, and a small library.

Framed pictures on the wall showed a man with a vague resemblance to Ron Howard accepting awards, yachting, rowing, holding up a trophy fish, shaking hands with wealthy people. He owned a puddle jumper.

We entered a bedroom containing a four poster bed with silk covers, with a cedar chest at its foot.

A massive framed landscape, I'm guessing a background painting from some movie, hung from one of the walls, and opposite, a video screen and table where they played holographic videos.

Josh found some boy's clothes in one of the dresser drawers.

"I'm not sure I want to know," he said as he examined a pair of briefs.

Kamara looked at them. "At least they're clean."

" _Mickey mouse drawers._ Great. Now you guys are going to make fun of _me!_ "

"Turnabout is fair play," I said.

I couldn't find anything at all for Caitlyn or Kamara.

The place contained mostly men's wear, and not the girly kind I'd seen in those boutiques. I didn't mind.

As I held a Hawaiian tropical bird shirt to my chest to see if it fitted, Kamara thrust a black leather mouse costume in my face.

I stared. "What's this?"

"I don't know. I think the guy's girlfriend left it here. It wouldn't fit a man, with a bust like that."

I sniffed inside the head piece and frowned. "You want me to wear this."

 _"We're trying to blend."_ She handed me a red and white polka dot dress and bow. "This goes over it."

I sniffed again.

"It's leather. It's supposed to smell funny."

"It smells like sweat."

"Hurry up and bathe. I'll try to find a washer-dry cleaner machine."

The HR guy owned his own personal jacuzzi that looked like a giant sink, with a stained glass window shining down on its porcelain bench. A spaceship-like washer-drier-dry cleaner machine stood behind it.

The bathroom featured a lot of marble, and a black porcelain toilet with a Donald Duck bidet.

I took a shower.

When I came out, I found the costume cleaned and folded on the sink.

It fit me a little snug, but it would have to do.

The bathroom door came open as I was zipping up.

"Shit!" Josh cried. "Sorry!"

I held the polka dot dress to my chest as I stared at myself in the mirror. "It's okay. I'm decent."

I frowned at my tight glistening pant legs. " _...ish._ "

Josh now wore something that looked like a boy's prep school uniform. It was cute.

For a moment, he just ogled me with his mouth hanging open.

Blushing, I pulled the dress over my costume, but it revealed more than it concealed.

 _"You are so hot!"_ he breathed. "I just had to say that."

I was. Hot in my face. With embarrassment.

Kneeling in front of him, to be more level with his eyes, I put a hand to his shoulder. "This saddens me as much as it does you, but _you're not exactly my type anymore._ I love you, but you'll have to make do with Kamara or something. You know, _find someone your own age._ "

" _Who's_ making do with me?" Kamara said as she stepped into the bathroom.

I just looked at her, indicating she and Josh with my eyes.

Her skin turned a different shade of mocha. _"Oh."_

They glanced at each other with visible discomfort.

"Please. Don't act like you never thought of it before."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Josh said in an offended tone.

"I..." Kamara stammered. " _I suppose I could do worse._ "

Now Josh took offense at _that_. "Are you saying I'm not that great?"

"Well, I don't know. I guess I always pictured myself being with someone of the same color. I suppose I was being a little racist."

" _We don't have_ _to go together_ ," Josh said. "Ellie was just trying to make me feel better."

"Do you... _like me?_ "

I was obviously his first choice, so he delayed in answering. " _You're all right..._ "

"Anyway, _we're still good friends."_

"Yeah..."

"But I bet you'd like me more if I were white and melted steel with my blood, right?"

"No, no," Josh said. _"I don't care about color..._ "

She crossed her arms. " _As long as I can crawl up the side of a building and make a claw thing shoot out of my mouth._ Hmph!"

Josh opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again.

"Take a shower, Josh. You stink!" With that, she marched out of the room.

I wanted to put on something more comfortable, but Kamara said we needed to be dressed to leave at a moment's notice, if the maid or something came in.

I looked myself over in the bedroom mirror, giving myself a second appraisal.

Noticing my blonde roots showing beneath all the black shit, I grabbed a pair of scissors from a drawer and gave myself a haircut.

"Perfect," Kamara commented when I finished. "With that butch cut, you really look like a park employee."

Josh did not agree with this assessment. When he returned from the shower, he cried, "What did you do to your hair!"

"I had to. I didn't want to be recognized."

He frowned and shook his head.

"You should something with yours."

"Why? I was wearing a skullcap the whole time!"

Caitlyn had the bedroom monitor switched on, watching the news with the volume off, reading the poorly typed captioning.

"You were on TV," Caitlyn said. "You missed it."

"I saw it firsthand. I really don't want to think about what some smartass newscasters have to say about it."

Instead of talking about me, the newsmen now discussed talking about a deadly hereditary gene created by sexual enhancement drugs, how people were being born with heart conditions, deformed genitalia or exploding testes, and a similar drug caused uncontrolled hair growth, so that children were born looking like Cousin It from the _Addams Family_.

This was followed by a commercial about a bible inspired by the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, and a service that took horoscopes to a whole new level by choosing your education, career path, and romantic partners by astrological data.

`Life is too complicated,' it said. `Simplify your life by letting the stars decide!'

We found the refrigerator well stocked, which made me a little uneasy. Someone obviously had been coming in here, putting fresh food on the shelves.

I decided, more than anything else, that this justified us sleeping in our clothes.

Still, the food was heavenly. Best I'd ever eaten in days. Fried chicken, burritos, coleslaw, mashed potatoes...and I thought the costume was tight before!

I found a stationery pad, so I'm writing in that at the moment. I had my red notebook with me when I first discovered Learning Town, but I lost it some time after my capture.

My hands feel so big now. It's like I slipped my original hands into a pair of giant human gloves. When I want to write, the letters come out way too big, so I have to mash things together so they fit.

Kamara has spent the last half hour on the ottoman, tinkering with the communication device. She made a cyclopean monster appear in the air, one that gurgled and grunted at us unintelligibly. I don't know if this was a movie or an actual alien presence, but it wasn't helpful to us at all. She gave it up and took a shower.

When the duck lady barged into the room, I suppressed a scream, pulling out a Yautja weapon.

"Hey!" she cried, raising her hands. "Don't shoot! Yo soy amigo!"

Brown skinned, titanium white hair in pigtails, ears weirdly pointed down like a surgically altered elf. Blue shirt, orange tights.

She wasn't the same ethnicity as Charon, but I still didn't trust her. "I was _betrayed_ by a `friend' like you!"

I aimed the weapon at a sculpture of a nude kid, pulling the trigger. The explosion was spectacular, though surprisingly quiet for all that destruction.

I pointed the gun at her. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't use you as the next test target for... _whatever this is._ "

She had dropped a silver suitcase on the floor to raise her hands, but now she kicked it over to me. " _Uno._ "

It was mine. She had somehow found it and brought it back to me. "How'd you find us?"

"They have _cameras_. Your friends still have _cheeps_. As for how I got in, let's just say the building manager owes me a _favor._ Your friend _Dan_ says that _Xaviar_ is working on a medicine for a _seal_. Comprendé?"

I nodded.

My hand wavered on the gun. If this lady tried something, I doubted it would go well in my favor. It didn't exactly have a normal trigger. "I still don't get it. How do you know my friends?"

"We meet at the Iron Man bar. I promised to help if I could date the black one, and _maybe pay me a little_. The _tough man_ still owes a large debt to DOGOS. I get a _huge_ commission if he pays up."

 _"Oh...kay_. If you're scamming me, you're doing a good job. You sound a little too weird to be a slaver."

The stranger let out a bitter, barking laugh. "A _slaver?_ Is that what you think I am?"

She held up a hand, showing me a thumb, index, pinky, and a stump where her two other fingers should have been. "You think I'd work with people who do _this_ to children?"

I looked at her like anything were possible.

"Believe what you want, but if I didn't have Angel to look after, and if not for _la policia_ , you'd better believe I'd be freeing those niños and blowing those guards' heads open."

"Where is this...Angel?"

She shook her head. "He's fine. I left him in the Night Forest. Dan is looking after him."

She lowered her voice. "I let you in on a little secret. The man is sweet. _I want him around to raise my children._ Don't say anything to him, okay? Please."

I nodded.

"You don't think I'm old fashioned, do you?"

"No."

"My arms are tired. Can you please put that gun away?"

I stowed the gun. "Do you wet yourself?" I asked, indicating the diaper.

" _I try not to_ ," the woman answered. "Except when people are trying to blow me up with space guns."

"My name's Ellie."

"Rosalinda."

We shook hands. "Do you know if Xavier is going to meet with us or anything?"

"I do not know. They only tell me bring you suitcase."

Josh rushed in, fully dressed, with dripping hair. "What's going on here?"

"We have a visitor."

"I can see that."

A minute later, Kamara stepped into the room, drying her hair with a towel. Same ratty clothes as before.

When she saw Rosalinda, she dove for a weapon.

"Relax!" said I. "She's a friend of Xave!"

Seeing the gun, Rosa raised her hands again. "Please. _No fuego._ Don't shoot those guns. I'll ruin my costume. ¡ _Caca mucho!_ "

"What do we do with her?" I said to Kamara. "I mean, I trust her, but I don't know if we should tell her everything."

Kamara narrowed her eyes. "What makes you think we can trust her?"

I looked at Rosa. "Tell her about your hands."

Tell us she did.

When she was a child, Rosa had been assigned the duty of assembling a section of an amusement park ride. YME project. The machinery clamped into place - on her fingers.

The doctors could do nothing with them, since the bones had been badly crushed, and being an orphan owned by the company, nobody tried to save the fingers. They just amputated.

And then, when she got caught fighting with another girl for food too many times, one of the slavemasters decided to make her more "symmetrical."

"Okay," Kamara said. "That's a little too extreme for a scam. I...think I believe you...Can you get us some girl clothes? I washed these things and they're still itchy."

Rosa took one look at her outfit and said, "Oh my God. I'll get you an entire _wardrobe!_ "

"That...won't be necessary, ma'am. Once we finish our work here, I'll be able to get my own. We just need two girl's outfits."

Rosa gave her a nod. "I'll see what I can do."

Kamara opened my suitcase, staring at the objects.

She showed Rosa a Rook playing card. "Is this yours?"

The woman shook her head.

Kamara glanced at Josh.

"Don't look at me. I didn't have time to play around with that thing."

"And your uncle's frozen... _"_

"He _was._ "

"A man in a red jumpsuit gave suitcase to me," Rosa said. "I didn't open it to see what he did to it."

I and Kamara looked at each other in alarm.

Kamara turned the suitcase upside down, checking the liners and everything. My `Mom' doll had been stuffed inside, so Kamara checked that, too, unzipping the back to see if any bugs had been hidden there.

Rosa waved her hands dismissively. "Your friends already did that. They say it's clean."

"Kamara," I said. "Was there a man in red back at the island?"

My friend frowned. " _I guess it won't hurt to tell her now,_ " she muttered to herself. "Yes. I...I think. I only saw him once or twice."

"I think that guy has been helping me, or messing with me this whole time. But why would he want to help me?"

Kamara shrugged, taking out the YME book. "Maybe because he believed in you?"

Rosa stepped out.

"Ellie!" Kamara suddenly hissed, pointing to the handbook screen. "Look!"

I did, and found Xavier's face staring back at me. "Hello, children...and lady."

I waved back.

Laura was with the man, leaning over his shoulder.

"Is this a safe communication channel?" Kamara asked.

Xavier gave her a nod. "Big Bird is using her neural interface to protect the channel. This data stream is live, like a radio transmission, so there's no electronic residue, so to speak. Unlike other things, this _will_ disappear from the internet.

"You made quite a spectacle of yourself on that monorail platform. We're fortunate to be surrounded by so many artificially contrived paranormal events that people are coming with alternative theories, such as _disgruntled park employees_ and _in-park domestic terror cells_."

Josh, who had been listening in, muttered, " _Special effects._ "

Kamara nodded. " _Smoke and mirrors._ "

They smirked at each other.

"Do you have any more of those pens?" I asked.

The man gawked at me for a moment, not saying anything.

"Xave?" I prompted.

"I'm sorry," he stammered. "I saw the recording, but it's still hard to believe it's you. I felt the same way about Sil when she had her transformation."

He cleared his throat. " _The pens._ Yes. We have a supply of diamond tipped injectors, but the formula is far from where we need it to be. If we have another monorail incident, I fear we need to neutralize her in a far more violent way."

"We have _weapons_ ," Kamara said. "We can use them if we need to."

"I'd advise you to stay out of sight until you find her. You're popular with the crowds, but the people you have shot are out for blood."

I shivered. "I can take care of myself."

"I pray to God that you can continue to do so." He then covered his betrayal of science by adding, " _At this point I'm willing to try anything, if it helps._ "

"Any news about the spaceship?"

Xavier frowned. "Park officials are planning to make an exhibit out of it. They've already got your friends in industrial strength holding pens. I believe they plan to use Lacethanny as their star attraction. Weyland had an episode when he woke up, so someone Life Flighted him to a hospital. Mr. Hattam is in some sort of cryogenic stasis, and they don't know how to safely deactivate it, so they have left him where he was."

"Wonderful," I groaned. "What else can go wrong?"

"What about Golic?"

Xavier frowned. "Good question. I'm...not really sure. I don't think _he's_ on display."

"Is that Growth Squirt you're talking to?" said a voice off camera.

"Press," I muttered.

"If you're referring to Ms. Ripley," Xavier said. "Then yes."

"Two women with childlike brains. I've had worse dates."

Laura's expression soured. "How'd I know you'd say that?"

Xavier smirked a little. "I think Ms. Ripley, Sil, and Mr. Barnes' other wife should get together and play house. It would be charming."

"Until Sil pulls out an Uzi and shoots everyone," Laura muttered.

"Yeah," I sighed. "And quote-unquote `Mrs. Barnes' is kind of short bus material. Right now she's probably eating crayons and library paste."

Xavier's amused expression vanished. " _Well._ If it weren't for wishful thinking, how would we get inventions? I'll keep you posted."

"Who's Mrs. Barnes?" Laura asked as the man signed off.

I wrote in my journal some more.

I didn't know I was sleeping until I felt Kamara shaking me awake.

She had found some new clothes, a vest top and blouse that made her resemble a blackjack dealer, had it not been cut small enough to expose her belly, a black skirt and cheetah print leggings.

She'd also flatironed her hair somehow, which was cute and made her look like a different person. "Big Bird's found something. We got a facial match. She and some guy just checked into the Love Boat."

I blinked the fog out of my eyes. "You mean like the Pacific Princess?"

She looked at me like I had just failed first grade. "You actually _watch_ that show?"

"...Maybe?"

Kamara shook her head. "Never mind. No. It's not a luxury cruise liner. It's officially called _Minnie's_ Love Boat, which is kind of convenient with that costume you're wearing."

"Wait. What about the formula?"

She sighed. "We can't wait. We have to save human lives. She doesn't seem to be satisfied having just one baby."

Caitlyn was awake, too. She wore a getup like Penny wore in that bad _Lost in Space_ movie, spaghetti suspender vinyl overalls with an aqua spandex top.

Her hair had been tied up and pinched up in rubber bands all around her head, so that she looked like a white juvenile version of Niobe from _The Matrix_.

In the suite's little cafe area, I saw Rosa hard boiling eggs and frying sausages, sticking pastries into plastic baggies.

We had a new guest, a little black haired Hispanic boy in girl's silk slacks and a lacy white shirt that looked like a doily. He sat in the little movie theater with earphones on, watching a cartoon about a bulldog, occasionally telling the character things like, "Hump the man's leg," "Throw up in his shoe" and "Shit on the rug," which the dog actually did.

The kid giggled as the dog waddled around the screen, farting on everything as the owner yelled at it.

"That's Angel," Rosa said. "He'll watch anything with that damn dog on it."

I studied a park map.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?"

I shrugged, shook my head. "Not unless you can get us a car."

She stuffed our food into one of those fancy thermal hot-cold bags you get at specialty grocery stores, along with some bottles of orange juice. "They only have cars up top. Trams come through every hour, but you're better off walking."

So walk we did.

They had so many lights on that you could see all the scenery, even in the thin light of early dawn. We climbed a fire escape on the side of the building, hurrying between the rows of tropical golf courses.

A pity that we had to eat breakfast on the run. Rosa cooked really well, and I didn't have time to properly enjoy it.

The others kept telling me to eat slower or it would come back up again. Kamara commented that I'd burst a seam on my costume.

"Yeah," Caitlyn said. "Leave some for us."

"Sorry."

At first, walking was fine. Nobody stared or recognized us or anything. It looked stupid, but I even pulled the mouse hood over my head and put on the bow to blend in even more.

We were okay for part of a mile, but then Caitlyn tired out, Josh and Kamara lagged, and they resorted to hitching a ride on a tram.

I wasn't exactly comfortable, either. My stomach gurgled from the unorthodox meal strategy, my tight creaking costume made my movements a little stiff, and I'd packed all our weapons in the suitcase, which added an annoying amount of weight.

Still, I strode ahead of the tram, all the way down to the opposite end of the park's little replica of the entire Pan-Asian world.

I got a bit fatigued when I reached a tavern in an old western town, joining the kids on the change-over that took us from there through Roger Rabbit's Toon Town to a simulated forest chock full of cutesy animals, Bambi, Thumper, Robin Hood Fox, the whole nine yards.

A boat house stood at the far end of the place, with a little office designed to look like an old German cottage. It had an automatic ticket machine, and electronic schedule board that showed a carton of Fox Robin Hood and Fox Maid Marian having sex in the boat's cabin bedroom.

There seemed to be a customer service area in the building, but the shutter had been pulled down.

In the darkness of the pre-dawn, I could see the Love Boat's outline on the Mexican Strait, lit up all around with its little show lights. Even in shadow, I could tell its design had been modeled after the Missouri River Queen.

I pointed. "We're too late."

"Maybe not. Look!"

A stocky male figure perched on a three seater jetski, waving frantically to us. "Enough dawdling! Hop on!"

We ran to the finger pier where he'd been moored.

"I can't swim!" Caitlyn protested.

Press sighed. "Kid, you got two choices. You can ride with us, or you can stay here at the docks and get captured."

She came with.

It was a tight, awkward fit, me squeezing a little closer to Press than I ever wanted to be, Caitlyn in the middle, between me and Kamara, and Josh hanging off the back. I held Caitlyn's hand to keep her from whimpering.

Happily, we reached the boat in a matter of seconds, climbing over a rail while Press tied the jetski in place. Caitlyn was all to eager to jump onboard, coming close to falling in the water in her rush to leave the vehicle.

We stood on the lower deck of a floating bacchanal, a Caligulan orgy adrift on the sea. The paddle wheel noisily ploughed up the waves, but you could still hear the moans and animal noises, the pounding jungle beat of stripper music, and, of course, you could smell the odors, the musk, the protein, the lubricants, the other unmentionables.

You could see crowds of people in various states of undress, kissing and fondling each other, removing articles of clothing before scurrying upstairs.

Other people didn't even care, having sex out on the deck chairs, in front of everyone.

Seeing a couple men `going at it' along a railing, Press pulled a pin out of a support post, and the two of them fell into the cold dark water.

"Oops!" he laughed.

Kamara was not amused. "Great. Now we'll have _more_ people pissed off at us."

Press was already gone, hurrying toward the front of the boat.

I passed the partially opened door of a strip club, catching a flash of a neon painted nude dancer with a pair of plush cat ears and a fake tail.

Outside this door, several people had chained their inadequately clothed kids to benches, pacified, to a certain extent, by their computer glasses and marijuana. They gestured like sorcerers, engrossed in whatever virtual environments the glasses provided. Some of the kids had Family Spirits dolls.

They were too old for diapers, but they wore them anyway, probably because they weren't going anywhere anytime soon. I suspected the culture didn't put the same kind of priority on toilet training that it used to. It explained a lot.

I caught up with Press at a spiral stair, near a bar. Like elsewhere on the boat, the pub was clothing optional, and it offered junior sized alcoholic drinks in addition to the regular adult ones. They even had small tables for kids to drink at.

The place had a nautical theme, complete with a `Diver Dan' outfit, a sculpture of a mermaid getting ravished by a sailor, boat wheels, a trident, a harpoon set and other assorted naval bric-a-brac.

A big sign said there were extra charges for customers that had sex in the bar, including cleanup fees. For the most part, it acted as a deterrent, but a couple people still braved `running up a tab.'

"Getting anything?" Press asked.

"Yes. I'm getting a little sick."

But then I caught Sil's scent. "Wait."

Following my nose, I hurried up a wrought iron staircase, pushing past a vendor dominatrix bearing a container of condoms and drugs, her S&M gear so complicated that she'd need to figure out a locker combination between her legs just to change clothing. In a place like this, I didn't blame her. Since boarding, I'd already been subject to several inappropriate touches.

I nearly got kicked by a donkey when I reached the top of the stairs. Why it was there, I didn't want to know.

In a cafe area on this floor, a gimp suit guy served whiskey to a couple children. A man and a woman, both in their underwear, were telling them how good alcohol made them feel, encouraging them to drink up.

Fearing the gimp to be the same one I shot earlier, I got away from there as fast as I could, coming close to bowling over a blind thong wearing guy with a seeing eye dog. The way he smiled when he bumped into me made me wish I had knocked him overboard.

Nothing but little hotel rooms on that floor. They had curtains and doors, but a few people liked to show off. You could see others in silhouette.

Seeing a creepy old man leading a little boy in a blue spandex hedgehog costume toward a bedroom, I stuck out my foot and `accidentally' tripped the geezer. The boy ran away.

"Sorry," I said as the man groaned on the floor. " _Heel got stuck._ "

When he looked up at me, I recognized the face: One of the men who sacrificed babies.

I shuddered, feigning nonchalance. "Sorry. It's so dark, you know."

The alien scent got stronger on the starboard deck. I pulled out a Yautja blaster, passing the suitcase back to Kamara when she finally caught up.

I found Sil's scent so thick around one of the doors that I actually coughed and gagged. The noises inside told me it was her.

I grabbed Press's arm, pointing that way. "There!"

He stared at me. "You absolutely sure?"

I nodded, coughed.

The man pulled out his pistol.

"That's not going to help," I said. "You tried that last time."

"These are armor piercing rounds." He kicked the door open.

Sil had found a _woman_ this time, one with brown hair and a rather Jewish looking nose and face. I'm not really sure what equipment Sil had down there, but they were having intercourse, and she wasn't using an appliance.

"Oh God yes," the brunette moaned. "I don't know how you're doing that, _but keep it up!_ "

The claw thing shot out of Sil's stomach, stabbing the girl through hers.

Her victim moaned in pleasure as blood gushed out of the wound. She didn't seem to notice that she'd been stabbed. A mass of tentacles enveloped her face.

Press pointed the gun at Sil, firing two shots.

The bullets wounded her both times, but it only angered her.

With a shriek, she dismounted her victim and leapt across the room in a single bound, ramming Press's body so hard that he flew into a balcony railing and dropped into the Strait as the cheap aluminum snapped from the impact.

I pointed my own weapon, but Sil punched me in the face, and I fell backwards onto the floor.

The gun went off, blowing a hole in the ceiling. The surrounding wood, metal and foam came down, bringing with it a nude woman entangled with the donkey I'd seen earlier.

A man on a bed fell down afterwards, horribly maiming both parties.

Sil stomped my hand and I lost my grip on the weapon. It tumbled off the side of the boat, dropping in the water with a splash. "I saw what those human scum did to you, Ellie. I actually felt sorry for you. _Not anymore._ "

Her bony heel slammed down on my face again and again, until steaming blood poured out my nose.

A wall exploded near Sil's head, causing the lights to flicker and someone next door to scream.

A second shot followed, bringing another section of the ceiling down. Naked people in lounge chairs landed dead on the deck, bloody under the pile of debris, one couple in mid-coitus. Parts of the boat caught fire.

I glanced back and saw Kamara clutching the other Yautja gun, readying herself for another shot.

As she aimed, Josh leaned in with the dart gun, hitting Sil three times in the stomach.

I tried to take advantage of the distraction by rolling out from under my enemy and grabbing her from the back, but then came the pillbug thing.

It had changed since I'd last seen it. Although it still had a lamprey mouth, its face now resembled that of an eyeless human baby, its hands clawed but infant-like.

A long snake tongue came out its mouth, licking its teeth.

Part of me wanted to give the creature a soccer kick off the side of the boat. The other wanted to hold it.

I decided to worry about it later, when it tried to attack me again.

I jumped to my feet, knocking Sil down with a sweep kick.

Kamara aimed the blaster at Sil's head, but Sil just laughed.

When I looked up, I saw exactly what she found so funny.

"Kamara!" Josh shouted, but by that time, the donkey was stomping her face first into the flooring.

Sil rolled out of the way as the blaster tore a hole through the lower deck with a thunderous bang and a noise that sounded like a Navy ship setting off a surface charge.

A foot high wave of water rushed into the boat. People shouted in alarm.

The boat was capsizing.

I screamed as Sil's baby drove its teeth through the back of my costume, tearing open the flesh beneath.

It took some doing, but I eventually got `baby' to stop teething on me. I squeezed its neck portion as hard as I could, pulled it off my back, taking pieces of leather and shreds of skin with it. My costume didn't come with an open back, but it had one now.

Out of reflex, I threw Sil's baby overboard. I regretted the action as soon as I did it. Who knew what the thing would do to people once it swam to the barge?

The boat lurched at an angle as it took on more water. I heard the jetski rumbling as some enterprising individuals decided to save themselves at our expense.

Caitlyn looked over the rail. "Hey! That's ours!"

She started crying when she saw the group of half nude strangers disappeared with our vehicle. "What do we do? I don't want to drown!"

I only looked away for a second, but it was enough time for Sil to jump overboard.

"Shit!" I cried.

I glanced at the children apologetically. "Josh, Kamara, you got to figure out how to get Caitlyn to the barge. I don't care how."

I stuffed the gun into my suitcase. "If you can, unhook those kids from the wall down there."

"I'm sure they'll be fine," Kamara said. "They may be married to adults, but the adults can't just let them die, or they face jail time."

With suitcase in hand, I jumped off the balcony, into the frigid water below.

I could see Sil quite clearly in the water, but she had several obvious advantages. Not only did she have a head start, she was nude, whereas my costume took in water and slowed me down. _And_ I had to contend with the suitcase.

She reached the boathouse before me, disappearing into Sherwood Forest.

Fortunately, to me a newly washed alien hybrid smelled as strong as a newly washed dog. Maybe it was the lingering pheromones and her lack of clothing, or maybe it was the fact my body had developed stronger senses (I could detect a grown man's natural musk yards away from me, long before my brain even registered his presence).

The moment I frog climbed up on the dock, I could `see' where she had gone, breaking into a run to catch up.

Water squished out of my suit as I shoved my way through crowds of amusement park guests, a distracting mix of hot dogs, foul body odors, colognes, deodorants, perfumes, and vague sexual aromas, people with digital glasses petting invisible cartoon characters and pointing at unseen fairies, giggling at something I didn't have time to figure out.

I reached a clearing with a wide cobblestone walk, overshadowed by the huge dimpled silver golf ball of Epcot.

I caught Sil rushing through the gates of an aquarium with rotating gold dolphins on its glass domed roof. When I got near, she raced down the stairs of what appeared to be a subway entrance, into an aquatic museum.

I went in, passing through an `Extinct Animals' exhibit with giant tanks containing whales, sharks and dolphins, and their skeletons. In this context, the accompanying photographs and video of Free Willie, Shamu and Flipper took on a much darker meaning.

"The brain of a bottle nosed dolphin weighed at 1.6 kilograms, in comparison to the human 1.2 kilograms, and was once thought to be the most intelligent species on earth," said a recording. "Sadly, careless tuna fishing, disease, and various ecological disasters led to the demise of these gentle creatures..."

I caught Sil yanking a dufflebag out of a simulated killer whale's mouth, strapping gun holsters to her body, a body now taking on a gray insectoid appearance.

People stopped, stared, took pictures of her.

I drew the Yautja weapon, waiting for the crowd to give me a clear shot. It never came.

Sil's bag contained a LAW rifle. She loaded and aimed at me. "Goodbye."

Fire flashed out the back of the launcher as the anti-tank rocket shot out the barrel.

I ducked, and the rocket hit the staircase, debris, blood and parts of human bodies flying in every direction. An aquarium smashed open, spilling a lacerated rubber dolphin, glass and gallons of water onto the floor.

When the dust cleared, Sil was gone.

Following my nose, I caught the hybrid emerging from a door marked `Employees Only,' clad in a furry bikini of white plush, with little dog ears on her head and a fuzzy muzzle strapped over her mouth.

She had come prepared. I dropped to the ground the moment I saw the rocket launcher flash.

The concrete wall behind me exploded, the noise so deafening in the small corridor that my ears wouldn't stop ringing. The hallway flooded with water.

I raised my gun to shoot her point blank, but she bashed my hand against a pipe, snatched up the weapon, and leveled it at my forehead.

"I will have my children." Her voice, muffled by the costume piece, was still intimidating. "It is their destiny to take over this planet and use these weak human beings for cattle. You've stood in my way for the last time."

Sil sniffed, then frowned. The mask clearly limited her olfactory sense.

She didn't know what was happening until the weapon twisted in her hand, and something invisible sliced all the way through her wrist, leaving her with a bloody stump.

Yautja!

Out of the corner of my eye, I had noticed the water swelling around the creature's unseen legs, but kept the knowledge to myself, my eyes straight ahead.

Sil's good hand shot out, clamping down on the phantom body as her other hand, to my astonishment, regrew itself.

I heard bones cracking. The air shimmered, and a shiny black bug body appeared, struggling to pry Sil's fingers off its neck.

"Ssunamrozedrah!" I cried.

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij wore a gauntlet with a big sword blade attached to it, but when she tried to use it, Sil just got pissed and used her flipper-like partially regrown hand to stop the blade.

I snatched the blaster out of the woman's severed hand, shooting her in the stomach.

Blood and pieces of internal organs exploded out of her body, blood splattering on the white costume.

Dropping Ssunamrozedrah, the hybrid screamed and bashed my head into a standing piece of masonry.

My Ss'sik'chtokiwij, now free from Sil's clutches, stabbed my attacker with her gauntlet sword.

Sil pulled the blade out of her side, twisting the alien's arm until I heard bones cracking.

Ssunamrozedrah shrieked and clawed until Sil to dropped her, but before further damage could be done to the woman, our attacker took off down the flooded hallway with her bag of weapons.

As I rose, groaning, to my feet, Ssunamrozedrah turned to me, offering the broken limb. "Do me a favor. Help me reset this."

Following the alien's directions, I twisted her arm back the way she wanted it.

And I thought my ears had been ringing before!

Once sufficiently reset, the creature ran down the waterlogged corridor. "Come! We must not let her escape!"

I grabbed my suitcase and the gun, trying my best to keep up.

Sil had discarded her LAW rifle, I assume, due to lack of shells. It looked like a sewer pipe in the standing water.

Real fish exhibits criss-crossed the tunnel, small, rather ordinary fish of assorted non-extinct varieties, clownfish, some unusual breeds of swordfish, and unusually large, shark-like piranhas. To one side, a vast window looked out into the waters of the Mexican Strait, pale, sickly fish wiggling past the glass.

The staff ladies wore shiny bikinis patterned like killer whales, with fins sticking out from the shoulders and rear end.

"Can you scent the Sil woman?" Ssunamrozedrah asked me.

I nodded. "The blood smell is very strong."

"This will be a good hunt."

We caught sight of the furry bikini, chased it through rows of glass tanks filled with more species of small fish (it reminded me of a pet store).

The gap was rapidly closing.

The aquarium ended at the mouth of a zoo, where we encountered another exhibit of the extinct, dioramas of panda bears, elephants, monkeys, giraffes and tigers.

Sil ran up another subway staircase, into the park.

" _Mouseketeers have big ears!_ " barked a tinny voice behind me.

Hearing a strange whirring sound, I looked back and saw a drone with a plastic Mickey Mouse head and a machine gun attachment.

The gun unloaded a rain of bullets upon us, all the while playing a recording of Mickey Mouse giggling. " _Mouseketeers have big ears!_ "


	31. Chapter 31: Mickey's Speedway

I ducked, but a bullet struck my shoulder. Two more shots hit my companion.

It didn't hurt as much as I thought, only like a bee sting. My blood melted parts of my costume around my bicep. If this kept up, I'd be wearing a tank top, or less than that, but it was no time for thinking about decency.

I turned the alien weapon on the flying drone, blowing it to pieces.

We continued our chase.

What I saw outside reminded me so much of Learning Town that I momentarily forgot where I was.

We'd arrived in an old western setup straight out of some spaghetti western. The buildings, although of a different variety than Learning Town, had that exact same style of facade, with the appearance of clapboard construction.

Across the dirt, I could see a tavern/inn with a stable, a general store, a doctor, and a tall Victorian mansion standing at the end of a cobbled street, The Haunted Mansion, I guessed.

A huge weathervane twirled at the end of the town square, with a fake steam train whistling away from the station behind it. A big analog clock above the waiting area told the time, roughly ten in the morning.

Of course Sil headed straight for the area with the highest amount of human bystanders, a video arcade between the barber shop and sheriff's office.

Ssunamrozedrah quickly put herself in cloak mode as we followed her into an air conditioned building filled with bear claw machines, video poker, and video games about rape, torture and armed robbery.

Kids stood around the machines, laughing and smoking, giving their friends pointers on how to get past this or that obstacle.

Ssunamrozedrah shoved me behind a video game cabinet featuring anatomically correct Ninja Turtles a second before the bullets came flying my way.

I expected lots of sparks and showers of glass, you know, a lot of deafening noise, sparks and an associated mess, but the game was basically a wooden box, a screen and a tiny microchip, so I only heard the cracking of wood and plastic.

In fact, the game still worked, like those cel phones you can submerge in the toilet. I could hear the voice of Shredder cussing at the turtles, and a woman saying, "I've never done it with a turtle before."

A boy in a black and pink colorblock dress collapsed to the floor, bleeding out, his smoldering cigarette making lazy curls of smoke on the wood floor.

Sil shot another chunk off the video game cabinet.

"I heard you guys were trapped in a zoo exhibit," I said to my companion. "How'd you get out?"

"A machine named Big Bird assisted me. She is...friends with Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik. It would have freed her as well, but, alas, my aunt is heavy with child."

"What about your other friends?"

"I am unsure they are up to the task."

"She's in here!" I heard a voice shouting.

I glanced back and saw Charon standing among the claw machines, with a group of new friends.

The gimp suited man from Mickey's Love Hotel, bandages showing through a hole in his suit.

The sequined tranny I'd shot.

The old man, now clad in a red jumpsuit.

Two female officers in blue unitard police uniforms, one white, one black.

"She's the one in the French Minnie suit! Spread out and fire when you have a clear shot!"

"Make your shots excision!" the black woman said. "We don't want to hit any pedestrians!"

"Excision!" the white cop agreed. "Hit any Presbyterians and you answer to me!" She swore softly. "Now you've got _me_ doing it!"

"What's a Presbyterian?" asked the guy in the mask.

"I don't know. Never mind! Just don't shoot any bystanders!"

I could see Sil lurking between the video poker machines in the back, but people kept getting in the way, guys in bright girly ruffled things, girls in frumpy men's clothing or (mostly the lesbians) skin tight unitards. Sil, still waiting for her hand to regrow, had hidden herself well.

I heard the creaking leather behind me, smelled the masculine odors, but Gimp Man shot me in the back before I could spin around and fire at him.

I blasted him in the chest, throwing him backwards into an X-rated simulation rig that doubled as a Storx donation machine, its tunic clad occupant tumbling out of its darkened booth, sans pants.

The man cussed at me until he saw the dead body. Then he ran.

When I glanced back at the video poker machines, Sil was gone.

"This way!" Ssunamrozedrah barked, still invisible.

I took my cloaking device out of my suitcase, but a second after I had the device in my hand, I saw a flash of orange spandex, and I got kicked in the head with a high heeled boot. My stuff scattered all over the floor.

Charon whipped a switchblade out of her feathered bikini top, and as I dodged the gleaming blade that snapped out, the old man took pot shots at me.

"I'm going to get a good commission off you!" Charon purred through her plastic beak. "And when I'm done, I'll bring your friends back downstairs for an extra twenty percent!"

She slashed me across the upper chest, causing more of my outfit to melt. It hurt like a paper cut. I grabbed the closest thing to me, one of the Yautja weapons, a metal cylinder with a button on one side.

My thumb just barely brushed the button when it extended into a javelin, impaling my attacker through the leg. "Better use the money on your insurance, bitch!"

"Now," she grunted from the floor. "Is that any way for a Christian to talk?"

I clenched my fists in anger, then flinched as a bullet tore through my side.

The old man had done it barely a yard away. It felt like a bee sting, but the wound was larger than I would have liked. Painful, but not crippling.

I picked up the blaster, but the man dove behind a video game that looked like an old Kung Fu movie.

He reappeared a second later, gasping for air as he seemed to levitate across the room, kicking as he clutched at his throat. It reminded me of that scene from Star Wars when that guy got choked to death.

The rippling outline of a bug's head appeared, its mouth opening.

Blood and brains sprayed from the man's head as an unseen object punctured his skull.

Charon slashed me across the ankle, but again the damage was relatively minimal.

I stomped her knife wielding hand until she screamed and let go, wrenching the weapon from her grip. "You leave me and my friends alone, I leave you alone. Got it?"

The woman nodded her duck beak like she understood.

"Good. Now get your people to take you to a hospital."

Hearing gunshots from the other side of the arcade (and not electronic ones), I stuffed my possessions into the suitcase (and the switchblade) as fast as I could and ran there.

The area contained classic ticket games like skeeball, basketball hoop shots, and Bash-A-Mole (actually, cartoony plastic carrots).

I found Laura reloading her pistol next to that irritating game where you stop a light from traveling around a circle. "She ran out. Our friends are on their way over."

I saw a dark bug shape materialize near the entrance, beckoning to me with its good claw. The two female cops saw it, screamed and ran away.

"Duck lady needs medical attention," I said, pointing back at the machines.

Laura gave me a blank look. "Duck lady?"

" _Charon._ I think she's going to bleed out." I asked this only because of her comments about me being a Christian.

"She's no friend of mine!"

Seeing the look on my face, she paused. "I'll see what I can do."

A second later, a bullet hit me in the thigh. I'd forgotten about the sequined queen.

A bullet hit the corner of my neck. Another hit my shoulder blade.

Laura returned fire, and the man crumpled next to that game where you knock out a clown's teeth with an airgun. "Go! I'll take care of this!"

"I need to use your Qupgorm," Ssunamrozedrah said as I caught up with her at the entrance.

Remembering this to be the name of the alien communication device in my suitcase, I handed it over. She strapped it to her arm, barking commands as she resumed pursuit of our enemy.

I dabbed at my wounds with a tampon thing from the YME kit, but it melted from the acidity. It probably would have fared no better if I used it in a more recommended fashion.

By now, Sil's hand had regrown from baby size to full adult, and she fired shots at me as I followed her.

A woman in a western Fivel the Mouse suit yelped and fell into the dirt as a bullet struck her.

A group of dancer girls in leather chaps, little two piece bikinis and cowboy hats ducked behind barrels, horse troughs and posts to avoid a similar fate.

Sil ran past the train station to another faux western town, then through an area of roughly the same chronological era, the idealized London of the _Great Mouse Detective_ and ` _Mickey's X-Mas Carol_ ' (written exactly as it said on the signs).

A Scrooge McDuck fountain exploded as Sil shot at us, diving into a horseless Brougham.

When we raced around to the other side of the cab, she was already hopping through a Hansom led by mechanical Clydesdales. We got applause, of course.

We ran past Scrooge's office, and a new age bookstore.

If the latter wasn't an anachronism in and of itself (hello, _witch trials_?) the store also had a fancy sort of Ouija board displayed out front, one with a fixed planchette and letters and numbers that circled it on a system of ball bearings. It reminded me oddly of a combination lock. A small crowd gathered inside the darkened tent where the shop people, dressed as people from Dickens's fiction, spun this wheel and spoke on behalf of the dead.

Fake London led into fake Gotham city, where guys in X-Men costumes rubbed elbows with Batman and Superman among the gargoyle encrusted mini skyscrapers, and, up ahead was the queue for Mickey's Speedway.

It seemed this was the most popular attraction at the park, the line comparable to what people used to complain about when describing Space Mountain or the Buzz Lightyear ride.

I could hear the rumble of the vehicles, Trans Ams, Camaros, Mustangs, Ferraris, Lamborghinis, muscle cars, funny cars.

They came out of a big elevator that appeared to be of Arabic origin, but painted over with gunmetal paint to hide the giant letters reading UAE, and the shape of an Islamic flag.

The general procedure was to wait your turn, select a car from a computer terminal, wave your hand over the scanner for the temporary rental and insurance fees, wait for your car to arrive, and drive into a freight elevator that took you up to the Autobahn, maybe spending a few minutes in a driving simulator first.

The company kept the people in line busy with shows on their electronic glasses and costumed celebrities who offered to sign things. Spidey even swung by on the gargoyles.

Instead of waiting, Sil merely rubbed herself against people in a suggestive manner, touching sensitive parts of their anatomies, until people reacted with lust or revulsion, clearing a path until she got way ahead.

My approach wasn't nearly that subtle.

Unwilling to throw myself on other people like a common tramp, I said, "Excuse me" and "Lo siento" a lot, and when someone didn't let me past, I'd shove and elbow my way in.

Lucky for me, it seemed I _did have_ some sex appeal, or maybe somebody still recognized me, for I managed to keep within a few yards of my target at all times without that much jostling.

Ssunamrozedrah, however, had the most difficult time, for no one could even see her.

After wading through the mob for a few minutes, I stood next to a Pontiac Firebird.

I caught a glimpse of Sil inside a replica of the Barracuda from the movie _Phantasm_ , but by then it was too late, the elevator doors already closing.

I didn't think, I just jumped in the Firebird's passenger seat, Ssunamrozedrah climbing in back.

I smelled the male presence before I caught sight of him out of the corner of my eye.

Sixteen years old, give or take a year. Red hair, freckles, clad in the classic `little black dress'.

"Hi," I stammered.

He gawked at me. " _There is a God!_ "

I stared back. "What?"

"OMG," he said. "My NH parentals, they wanted me to hookup on the downlow. I was _so_ not cool W slash."

"Your parents are in New Hampshire?" I asked.

He laughed. "What? Muslim? Hells no! _They in the parade!_ "

 _"Non-Heterosexual,_ " I muttered.

"Yeah, chica! But not me! You?"

I reddened. "Um, no?"

"Single?"

" _...Maybe?_ "

"So..."

"Let's, uh, _discuss dating later._ "

He sucked in his breath. "Wow! And she's a _skirt grabber!_ " He glanced about the car. "Am I on Prankers?"

"No. What's Prankers?"

His gaze narrowed. "Who sent you?"

"Nobody," I sighed.

Sil's car was already going up to the track. "Look. I'm not...promising anything with you, but I need your help. And maybe after you help me, we can... _hang out or something._ "

I pointed to an open elevator. "Can we please go?"

The boy nearly drove through the wall at the far end of the elevator in his eagerness to impress me.

"I'm Ellie. What's your name?"

"Soy Brian."

I said, "Nice to meet you, Soy."

He laughed. "It's Brian. OMG, you say like my gran! LOL."

I frowned, rolled my eyes.

"LOSO," he said in an apologetic tone. "You still _fine_ , chica. _Muy_ fine."

I reddened, muttering thanks in a way that didn't quite make it out of my throat.

What age was I? Would this be appropriate according to 2016 statutory law? I decided not to think about it.

Ssunamrozedrah de-cloaked herself as the elevator rose.

"OMG! You PPL get the 411 before you withed, or am I the thousandth cust?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I come _group rate_ , chica. _Non-luxe._ "

" _Congratulations,_ " I said, frowning at his outfit. "Looks like we're going to have a little _drag race._ "

The boy grinned. "Fufu my combouts this being a tardboat! Pantsplurts!" But then, as I saw the elevator doors reopening on the two lane concrete, he exclaimed, " _Oye!_ Cash prize, pleekew?"

The Barracuda drove away with a noisy rumble. I scowled. " _I'm sure that can be arranged. Later!_ "

"Would you like me to kill him?" Ssunamrozedrah asked me.

"No. We need him."

 _"She needs me!"_ Brian breathed. "Someone pinch me, I'm having a _wettie!_ "

"Don't mess up your panties." Becoming impatient, I pointed at the Barracuda, already small on the horizon. "Follow that car, and step on it!"

"Wow! Just like a movie! _I love this park!_ "

He pulled out with agonizing slowness.

"Some time today?" I prompted.

He swallowed. "God! Bunchies much?"

" _She...stole my purse_ ," I growled. "C'mon!"

He gave me a funny look, but obeyed, pulling out in a cluster of other turbo cars (including a Batmobile replica), but he made student driver mistakes, speeding up and slamming on the brakes. I buckled my belt as a reflex.

Eventually, we got up to a good speed weaving in between a Camaro and a souped up Chevy Impala.

Up ahead, I could see a blockade, a Porsche and a Mustang driving neck and neck. One of the drivers was using their Google glass, driving with one hand on the wheel.

Brian slowed down, throwing me into the dash. "Ow! What are you doing!"

"They're in the way! I don't want to pay the insurance charges!"

"I'll reimburse you! Keep driving!"

He gave me a blank look. "What's reimmerse?"

"Money!" I cried in exasperation.

I pointed at a gap between a concrete barrier and the lane. "Go there!"

"I'll scratch the paint!"

"Keep driving!"

"Are you certain you don't want me to kill him?" Ssunamrozedrah asked. "This fool is a most unsuitable mate."

She said it in Ss'sik'chtokiwij, but my ears were still burning. "No. We need a driver."

We scraped along the concrete wall, trading paint with the Mustang. Brian visibly cringed at the damage, but I pointed at the Barracuda ahead, urging him to drive around a Jag to get to her. " _Just pretend you're in a movie!_ "

He pushed the accelerator to the floor, and we zoomed up beside Sil's vehicle.

I rolled down the window, aiming my weapon at the window of the Barracuda. Thankfully, Sil was at the wheel, making my task slightly less burdensome on my conscience. Slightly.

"Is that a Star Wars blaster?" Brian asked.

"Uh, yeah," I said.

"How's that going to nab your bag? You gonna use The Force?"

"No. I'm just going to use _force._ "

"That's what I-"

Brian didn't complete the argument, for at that moment we got rammed in the side.

"We doin' this sim or IRL?" He asked. "`Cuz I FUFU'd my Huggies at temocrib."

I wasn't sure what that meant, but it didn't sound helpful. "Could you _please_ act like you've got something male beneath that skirt?"

I aimed my gun, but I found a sawed off shotgun pointing back at me.

"Keep your head down!" I shouted at my driver. "This is going to get messy!"

" _Batshit loco_ ," Brian muttered, pressing his face to the wheel.

A second later, a powerful shot shattered the window next to his head. "Oh God! You're FFR!"

I took a shot at the Barracuda, but by then it had moved ahead. The blast didn't even hit the rear window.

In fact, I hit a section of concrete wall, leaving a gaping hole.

Brian swerved when he saw the explosion. "God! Was that EFX, or are you mil?"

"Which one will keep you driving fast?"

He opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment I caught sight of a little green ball bouncing across the pavement.

"Grenade!" I yelled, wrenching the wheel to the right.

A second later, I saw a flash in the rearview, heard a deafening explosion, followed by the squeal of several cars braking.

A Trans Am pitched over the blast crater, whistling into the park below.

"Jesus Christ!" Brian exclaimed. "That bitch is hardcore!"

"You don't know the half of it."

 _"That must be some purse!"_

I gave the wheel a sharp twist as another grenade bounced our way.

Boom. Behind us, an entire section of highway dropped out of view.

"Holy shit!" Brian said.

Up ahead was a cloverleaf interchange that connected to and from different areas of the park, circling the top of Cinderella's castle.

I leaned out the window, aiming at the back end of Sil's car. "If you see a green ball, drive around it."

Spotting a girl in a blue strapless dress crouching in the back seat, so I opted for a theoretically less fatal target, the car's rear wheels.

I aimed low, but the weapon recoiled a little, and I ended up blasting a hole in the trunk instead.

My car swerved around another grenade.

The whole freeway shook and cracked from the disturbance, our vehicle wobbling unsteadily.

I glanced back into the car, catching Brian putting his computer glasses on, driving with one hand as his other waved at invisible computer menus, trying to take pictures or something, I guess.

I snatched the toy off his face, throwing it out the window.

"Hey!"

"You just flunked Driver's Ed!"

Seeing an armed figure leaning out the other car's window, I ordered my driver to duck.

The entire front window disappeared in a shower of safety glass.

I leaned over the dashboard, aiming my weapon through the windshield frame, getting bits of glass caught on my leather sleeves. At least it wasn't my arms.

The towers, ramparts and pastel blue spires of the castle loomed near. I put the car in my crosshairs again.

My shot went too low, blowing a hole in the pavement beneath it.

Brian had to swerve out of the way as the concrete dropped out in front of us, but I kept my weapon steady, trying again.

Her tire exploded in a spectacular burst of rubber and metal, but the results proved to be as dangerous as they were unpredictable.

The rear of the car sank on the driver's side, spraying tread, then a shower of sparks as metal ground on concrete. Ssunamrozedrah shrieked as a piece of steel belted radial struck her exoskeleton.

The axle of the car soon became an immobile pivot, causing the Barracuda to veer straight into our path.

Its front end hit the concrete barrier, sending the car into a 180 degree spin.

Going close to a hundred miles per hour, we hit her head on,

Our car collided with hers, flipping end over end through the air.

The Firebird went turtle, the roof smashing flat beneath the body, glass windows puffing out and shattering all around us.

Out across the dash, I could see the sky opening like a bottomless pit below me, and above, a ceiling of slanted concrete with a bloody rag doll in a black dress sprawled across its yellow lane markings.

"You idiot!" I sobbed. "Didn't even wear a damn seatbelt!"

An agonized moan from the back seat told me Ssunamrozedrah hadn't worn one, either. The seats made ripping sounds as she pulled her claws out of the upholstered cushions. "Most inefficient means of transportation ever conceived!"

The driver's side door on the Barracuda swung open, a figure in a bloody white fur bikini stepping out with a shotgun in her hands.

She loaded the gun, marching my way.

Sil's passenger, at this point, seemed to have had enough. I saw her running out, indecently short silk dress flashing in the sunlight as she hurried down the speedway's narrow shoulder. I guess she thought getting hit by a car was preferable to hanging out with a grenade throwing, gun toting mad-woman.

I shakily extricated myself from the seat restraints, noticing, to my horror and dismay, that my space gun had fastened itself to my body, a pair of fish hook-like posts spiking me through the wrist and palm. Those spikes were the only reason why it hadn't flown outside with my suitcase when the car flipped over.

I squeezed out the windshield opening, staggering out onto the pavement to meet my foe.

I could hear the subtle crunch of glass, the sound of Ssunamrozedrah stalking invisibly behind me. I pretended to be alone.

Sil fired a shot, but I dodged out of the way.

The second, however, got me in the thigh.

Apparently out of shotgun bullets, she tossed the weapon aside, drawing a pistol from a shoulder holster.

The pavement juddered, dropping at an angle.

"This has to end!" I shouted, fist clenching the handle of the gun. "I can't let you destroy humanity!"

"Why would I want to destroy it? _I need them to breed!"_

" _People are dying,_ Sil! I can't let this continue!"

"Look at the world we're living in Ellie," Sil said. "Can you seriously tell me that the human race doesn't deserve it?"

I didn't exactly disagree, but I still knew some very good humans that I could consider friends. "It's not our job to destroy them. Who are you to stand as judge, jury and executioner?"

"The only one who has any real power for change."

"The real God taketh heed lest a sparrow falls, but the god created from vanity sees no difference between eagle and sparrow."

"The bible?" she asked.

I shook my head. "Bram Stoker."

She laughed and chambered a round. "You are a weak fool, Ellie. I'll enjoy killing you."

I fired my blaster before she could pull the trigger, but she dove behind the Barracuda. I only ended up knocking the door off.

Sil raised her weapon again, but an unseen weight knocked her aside. The bullet went astray.

For an entire minute, she and the invisible body fought each other, Sil taking most of the damage.

She did not stay down for long.

In one mighty spring, she shoved the weight off her body, and I could see the cloaking device flickering off as she raised Ssunamrozedrah above her head. The alien struggled, but could not escape her iron grip.

Ssunamrozedrah shrieked as my enemy dunked her over the concrete wall.

I fired at my enemy, but my friend was already gone.

Sil shot back at me, threw a grenade.

I briefly considered trying to throw it back, or hit it with a piece of a fender like a hockey puck, but she had counted before throwing, so I just ran.

The grenade exploded.

The section of highway crumbled and gave way beneath us.

We fell screaming through the air, into the park below, the mechanical groans and heavy black shadows indicating that our rides and most of the freeway would be following shortly, to bury us beneath a thousand tons of rubble and concrete.

[0000]

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #0007410116194798 (Transcripted recordings of Lacethanny the xenomorph)

* * *

[0000]

My life is very, very confusing.

Due to no fault of my own, I hatched from a guy's chest, then, well, I got hungry, so I ate him. _And_ a twelve year old girl.

I'm really sorry about that, but I didn't know any better.

I had no idea who my mother is. She may have taught me something, if she'd been there.

This was the first confusing thing that happened to me. Well, that and my encounter with the young female human that smelled like Ss'sik'chtokiwij...And the strange human male who thought I was his god.

Following this, a strange woman with a mutilated tongue (`Sarah') asked me to put my ssujmarrux up her nostrils. In my own language.

It scared me so much that I felt tempted to kill and eat her, but the request was so unusual and puzzling that my curiosity got the best of me, and I decided to obey first, kill and eat her later.

I thought my ssujmarrux was just going to travel into her body and tell me how tasty it was to eat, but the moment it reached the end of her nostrils, I touched her brain, and an entire world of confusing things opened up to me.

The most immediate: I was not the first Ss'sik'chtokiwij to join myself to her brain, and this other one had been birthed harmlessly from something called a `uterus', rather than rupturing vital organs in the host's rib cage.

The woman had spent the majority of her life in a tank, her mind subjected to days, months, _years_ of imaginary things. `VR,' it's called, or `simulation'.

And then, when she at last got released from this prison, someone used her as a host body for dozens of mates she'd never seen, giving birth again and again.

Hours in isolation, strapped down to a table. All that birthing pain. I have never experienced such loneliness, such suffering.

I learned, or rather _absorbed_ the next confusing thing: A mental `matrix,' a part of the woman's brain, a sort of interconnected _thing_ that filled my mind with words and pictures and thoughts, thoughts that allowed me, for example, to speak passable English into this recorder.

And then came the David person, Sarah's desperate attempt to impress David by cutting her tongue, and the awkward sexual encounter that followed.

Obsessed with Ss'sik'chtokiwij, one named Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik in particular, the woman had very definite ideas on what her body should be used for. Her method of hosting Ss'sik'chtokiwij was unorthodox, but surprisingly unharmful and pleasant for both parties, an encounter that both perplexed me and made me rethink my relationship with prey animals. "Pet" the relationship was called.

"It's my body," she said in my mind. "For once I wanted to birth something that _I_ wanted." And so Julia was born.

She wanted a lot, apparently.

She and the David male, with the aid of their Ss'sik'chtokiwij friend, shared the deepest of mental connections, the level of intimacy you could otherwise only get from being married to someone for an entire year.

Of course, the male's memories told me he already had another mate, one of a completely different species, an ` _Abreya_ '. I, like Julia, viewed this as a thing most unnatural.

The relationship between David and Sarah confused me more than anything else. Concepts of God, rightness and wrongness, clashing with needs and conflicting needs, emotional hurts, pleasures, it swirled around me in a disorienting blur.

With only the woman's mind to cling to, and the basic understanding of human biology provided by her simulation and other experiences, I did not blame my predecessor for suggesting the affair.

Admittedly, what Sarah did with the Ss'sik'chtokiwij egg seemed unnatural from a human standpoint, but David's relationship with the `Pillow' creature did not seem like something either species' biology would support, either. There was a feeling of rightness to choosing the human female.

All of this bubbled to the top of the woman's mind, washing over me in waves. The other details would require hours of exposure, but what I just described I could understand in the space of a few minutes.

The last thing I learned before disengaging my ssujmarrux: An artificial fertilization she received during her time of being cryogenically frozen. The feelings of simultaneous joy and disappointment were overwhelming.

"You know what's important," she said in my mind as we disengaged.

Since I didn't have a mother present to name me, the humans gave me one.

I had learned enough from the human's `matrix' to understand that Sarah and the other strangers I encountered were trapped in something called an `experiment', a strange sort of prison which tested one in a variety of puzzling ways, to study a creature's brain.

We went through several of such tests. Drone strikes, killer invisible beasts, wolves, training rooms where they stuck me with a tracking device, showed me propaganda films and video games while my friends got attacked by wolves.

I got to know the Ellie creature, who, on the surface, acted like all the other humans in the facility, but had a scent, body maturation and behavior that reflected something alien. _She scales walls..._

We faced an enemy that killed people for not worshiping their god, but allowed a woman and her flesh eating pet to ride in the rear compartment of their vehicle like a passenger, left me in an easy to open box and her wrapped in loose rope, with a knife her friends could easily use to release her and the others.

And then, of course, we had the wedding.

Our time in the `experiment' ended with I, David and Sarah boarding a tram inside one of the compound's underground chambers. I rode in Sarah's lap, sprawled across the nylons of her magician's assistant costume, with David seated at an uneasy distance from us. I noticed him swallowing as Sarah scooted closer, putting her head on his shoulder.

The tram took us through a long tunnel with plain gray concrete walls and lights along the ceiling. For someone like me, who hadn't experienced much of life, a ride like this was exhilarating.

As the vehicle hummed ahead, Sarah's arms wrapped around the male, one hand sliding across the lap of his suit pants.

He pushed her hand away.

"I do not understand," I said. "This female is _human_. You are fully capable of producing offspring without the use of special devices, and your shared memories show your desire for each other. You have even fulfilled the ceremonial requirement of marriage."

"This would be bigamy," David said. "And I'm no bigamist."

He had to explain the concept to me.

"Technically, you _are_ a bigamist. By your own definition."

"The point is, it doesn't matter if I desire Sarah or not. My concern is being right before God."

"Was it right when you were connecting your reproductive organs together on the floor of that morgue on Fiorina 161?"

He swallowed. "No. That was called _sin_. I am still ashamed of that."

" _Pillow had another Abreya's egg_. And Sarah is _human._ "

"Don't read my mind back to me!" David snapped. "You make yourself a devil by quoting my own sinful thoughts to me!"

The linked minds of David and Sarah had instructed me about God, Jesus and Satan. I recoiled at the rebuke. "I'm sorry. I still struggle to understand what you taught her about matters of faith. I do not have the same type of reproductive organs, so it is difficult for me to comprehend the temptation you are going through."

"Then do me a favor. Don't give opinions on things you don't understand."

"Perhaps if you link minds with me," I suggested. "Like Sarah has already done. I could-"

"No," he blurted. "Never again. What you suggest is mind sex. I will not have mind sex with anyone but my wife."

" _But Sarah is your wife_ ," I argued.

He blushed. " _I meant Pillow_. _That worm_ is the ultimate form of intimacy. It's like stripping naked in front of a person. I love Pillow too much to do that again."

I shrank against Sarah's nylons. "I will not give my opinion."

Sarah's hand slipped onto David's pant leg, drifting upwards.

"Stop," he said.

Actually, it was 'kulwod," but his shared thoughts had taught me a language called Wava, so I understood.

"You akth rige you donn enhoy ib," she said. "Budh your bothy ithayin thumbin ewse."

He pulled her hand away from his `bothy.' "Look. I had to agree to this to save my children. It doesn't mean I have to like it."

Sarah placed her hand on her belly. " _We haph chiwren too. Wod aboud uth?_ "

David swallowed hard. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Her hand returned to his leg. He sighed, shifting it to a sexually neutral place near his knee, looking straight ahead.

The drab tunnel reached a switch crossing, connecting with another set of tracks in an intersecting passage.

"Do you lub me, Dawib?" Sarah asked David.

" _Only as a sister_."

I asked David if he knew anything about my mother, but he said no. "That's something you'd have to ask Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik about."

"I'm still shocked that Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik was able to birth without killing her host body."

" _And I'm_ shocked that anyone in their right mind would want to volunteer for that!"

" _He liged idh,_ " Sarah said with a grin. "He yuth donwana thay."

David reddened, looking angry. To me, he said, "So you don't know any more information about what they did to... _her baby?_ "

I only shrugged.

The tram came to an abrupt stop in a big gray bunker.

Three closed doors led out of the chamber, one to the north, the others to the east and west. A pair of the big muscular men (the `Arabs' we'd been encountering for the last few days) stood guard at each door, and in the center of this room stood a glass and metal box on a raised pedestal.

The chamber smelled of mildew and wet earth. No decorations but an emblem of a unicycle on the north wall.

When we climbed out of the car, a female voice spoke to us through a machine on the ceiling. "We appreciate your cooperation in this program, Mr. Barnes. We know this has been difficult for all of you. As a token of good faith, we are giving you and your new wife a well deserved honeymoon.

"Through one of these doors, you will find the deluxe condos advertised in the brochures. If you fail to locate it, you may instead find yourself owning a new home in a replica of 2016 Kansas City."

"And what's behind Door Number Three?" David joked.

 _"Gainful employment in the program."_

David's eyes darted back and forth. "Is... _Pillow_ employed in the program?"

 _"I'm afraid you won't be working with her, Mr. Barnes."_

"These doors aren't labeled. How are we to tell which is which?"

"You don't. This will be your last test."

" _Your last scam_ , you mean."

David groaned, stepping toward the door to the left.

When I attempted to follow, the voice said, "You and your wife can go, Mr. Barnes, but _your pet_ must stay behind, _for the purposes of the program._ " The stony silent guards drew their guns.

David and Sarah gave me an apologetic wave goodbye.

"Place the animal in the box in the center of the room."

"She won't get hurt, will she?" David asked.

"She is too important to be damaged," the voice answered.

Sarah picked me up.

"Sorry about this, Bud," David said. "We have no choice."

And so I got deposited into the box.

The moment my body settled on the bottom, and Sarah withdrew her hand, a lid snapped shut above my head like a mousetrap, imprisoning me inside.

I sighed as I watched David and Sarah, presently the only friends I knew, march up to an opened door.

Sarah gave me a sad look, blew me a kiss goodbye.

She turned around, following her husband across the threshold.

The two disappeared from view. I never got to find out what happened to them.

A pair of men picked up my box, carrying me through a different door to the north.

They placed me in the back of a tram, with a pile of luggage and metal containers of equipment, and I got shipped down another long tunnel to a cavernous gray underground hangar.

The place, reeking of jet fuel and other chemicals, held several helicopters and private planes. A crowd of those identical looking burly men rushed to and fro, loading supplies and other items into a large airbus at the end of this hangar.

I apparently fell into the category of `other items.'

They carried me into their big airplane, shoved me into a jail cell, locked it shut.

The lid of my box sprung open on its own a minute later, allowing me to explore the compartment I'd been thrust into.

The decoration was uninteresting, its odors institutional. Cleaning chemicals, old blood, machine lubricant. It had a bed, a toilet grate, a computer/video game system, and a flat television.

The tough metal and glass walls allowed me to see my fellow prisoners, the large black insectoid shape of a Ss'sik'chtokiwij next to me.

"Mom?" I asked.

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij's mouth distended in shock. "Do I know you?"

I stared at her. "I'm not sure. You're...not my mother, are you?"

She shook her head. "I am not, but I shall be laying socmavaj soon."

"I'm sorry. You smell like my mother."

The other Ss'sik'chtokiwij pressed her face to the side of her cage, inhaling deeply.

She jerked back in surprise. "And you smell like Grandmother!"

"Grandmother?"

The stranger purred softly. "Welcome to the family, _my young aunt!_ "

I wagged my tail. "I never met Grandmother. Is she nice?"

"Oh, _very nice._ Unfortunately, I believe the humans have taken one of her eggs and used it for their own questionable purposes. Still, it gladdens me to have a new family member. God truly works in all things for good, to those that love Him."

I met David's other wife, Pillow, her tail a short bandaged stub due to one of the `experiments.' I asked her to share minds with me, but, alas, she did not have security access to my cell.

I told her about the conflict between David and Sarah.

She shook her head sadly. " _That man_. That poor sweet man. We both know that Weyland's people will never let us be together again, yet he insists on torturing himself, depriving himself of the few pleasures the situation can afford him."

She blushed green. "If we ever meet again, I'm going to give him a night he'll never forget!"

"Is that a good thing?"

She laughed. "You'd better believe it! If you meet up with him again, you should tell him he just made my yaxhuba gush rukrabod."

I stared in puzzlement, but before she could explain anything, the a bald man Fitch stepped onboard, greeting her. The two marched off to another part of the plane.

I saw the Ellie girl being carried onboard, one of her hands appearing to have been replaced by a Ss'sik'chtokiwij claw, then the furry alien Ippi, clad in the wedding dress I'd seen her in earlier, the latter being placed in a cell across from the magician man.

Other humans boarded, stopping to stare at me and my fellow prisoners before passing into the next compartment.

A man named Steve Arden asked me about my culture (he was disappointed to find I had none) and the Laura Baker asked me all kinds of questions, like how I ate, how I had sex and how I excreted waste. The last item I demonstrated right in front of her.

Their companion, Press, a hunter, merely looked at me with disgust.

The large brown skinned man I found the most interesting. Instead of seeing me as a lab animal, he appeared to have genuine concern for me, asking if I were comfortable.

"I'd be much more comfortable if I weren't in this cell," I told him.

He and the others had a good laugh at this, but then, when he noticed my lack of amusement, told me he didn't have permission or access enough to liberate me.

I spent what seemed like hours in the hold of that plane, watching people coming in and going out.

Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik and I talked quite a bit, learning all we could about each other. We couldn't link minds, so our sharing tended to be verbal and slow. Still, I learned a lot about my family, where we came from.

She, too, was eager to hear about her friends, painting my portrait in watercolor as we talked.

A few hours later, we landed in a jungle, and I saw Ellie being led through the hold. She didn't have much time to chat.

The view out the window was interesting. Lots of plants and strange animals. They allowed Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik outside, but left me alone in my cell.

Pillow spoke to me a few times, but mostly she wanted to spend time with her family, so I got ignored.

They found and captured a Ss'sik'chtokiwij that had been lurking around the plane, but the staff carried it too quickly past my cell for me to get a good look at her.

I watched Pillow's exchanges with her daughter, one which, I could tell by scent, had been added to her clan by adoption rather than birthing, and the unpleasant moments she had with the Jen-Jen person.

"Would you like me to kill and eat her?" I asked Pillow after the two had an argument.

"No. My Lord wants me to forgive Jen-Jen. But thanks for the offer."

David's mind had taught me about this enemy forgiving thing. I could see it resulting in a lot less death, but it was hard to make yourself do.

"Ss'sik'chtokiwij once killed my mother and father," Pillow said. "But I learned to forgive them. That is why I now consider Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik a good friend."

I nodded. "You seem to have made an impression."

"I had a dream about her the day before we rescued her. It reminded me of the vision seen by Peter in the book of Acts."

I recalled the story. David's mental image of a sheet full of tasty animals being dropped from the sky in front of a bearded man in a robe. "That is strange, but I think I understand."

She introduced me to the Thonwa creature, then gave me a bible. Jen-Jen, in turn, handed me a stack of army training manuals. I puzzled through both of these for awhile as I waited.

I saw the big black man being carried in with a foot injury, then, some time afterward, the Ellie girl, unconscious from a head injury.

Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik and the others boarded again, the former helping me through the rather confusing portions of the bible I had been staring at.

We took to the air again.

About an hour later, I saw the girl, now fully healed from her bump to the head, being led through the hold in a bizarre winged costume, Thonwa accompanying her into the next room, where the two jumped through a square hole in the floor.

Thonwa never returned.

I and my fellow prisoners got left alone for a long time after that. I fell asleep watching Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik paint scenes using her little camera as a reference.

When I awoke, we were staring out the windows at buildings with lots of Spanish writing on them. I skimmed through a manual, learning about lean-tos and digging latrines and field stripping rifles, but it didn't interest me, even with the little diagrams, so I watched _Night at the Museum_ and played something called _Final Fantasy_.

Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik didn't understand the appeal of such a long and complicated game, but she explained the terminology and made suggestions. Since a lot of the game's actions didn't require thinking, we continued to talk.

I learned about her adventures on LV 426, her struggles with enemies both outside herself and the sins within, and her prison mission to Fiorina 161.

I ate, slept, we took off again.

I know, not very exciting, but I was a prisoner. What do you expect?

Upon our second landing, everyone got out, except for us aliens.

Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik taught me bible songs, played some more of them on the computer...and then some cat videos. I heard that certain types of Christian music had been banned in the United States due to their "intolerant views," but we still had access to a vast selection of bold and biblically profound `tunage' (David's word - I like it).

Hours later, our plane took off again, apparently back the way we came.

I found myself being awakened, rather rudely, by the airplane smashing into a jungle somewhere in the Andes Mountains.

It was very painful, being thrown against the walls and hit by flying debris, but my cell was built very strong, and I have a hard shell, so I did not get killed or injured in any crippling way. The humans outside my prison, however, the guards and staff, did not fare so well. Several people died.

When our vehicle finally stopped jostling around, both I and Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik noticed significant gaps in our cages, openings through which we could crawl to freedom.

The mentally disturbed Golic man, who had also found his freedom, further assisted us in this escape.

The moment we got free, I and Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik rubbed faces, a sign of love among the Ss'sik'chtokiwij.

I ran about in the jungle plants like a loose puppy dog in a field full of cats and butterflies.

When I had my fill of exploring (and a belly full of rather vicious midget monkeys) I returned to the wreckage, where the survivors worked on building a fire.

Using the knowledge I'd gleaned from the training manual, I helped out with it, giving suggestions about lean-tos and latrines.

Pillow did not build, she just she slept in a tree with her family. Since `niece' Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik joined her up there, I decided to do the same...after helping Golic to build temporary shelter on the ground first.

The next morning, Mr. Weyland joined us for breakfast, seeming to forget that he attacked Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik the night before. We let him eat, then assisted him in extricating his assistant from a table.

Not wanting to be imprisoned again, we afterwards quickly fled into the jungle, searching for the Ss'sik'chtokiwij that Weyland had captured earlier.

We found her a few kilometers out, defrosted her, but Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik felt compelled to return to camp to witness Pillow birthing an egg.

A moment after we watched this miracle of new life, the helicopters arrived, and we had to flee into the jungle to avoid recapture.

Unhappily, Mr. Weyland then chose to pursue us with the most dogged determination, his quest simplified somewhat due to our slow Ss'sik'chtokiwij worshiper.

That's when the pair of Yautja came up to us, dragging our magician friends along behind them.

"Are these yours?" they asked.

I said maybe, but Weyland said they were dangerous prisoners who wrecked our craft.

It was his English words against the Ss'sik'chtokiwij of I and Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, so the magicians got released to walk with us, while Weyland got his hands shackled behind his back.

The Yautja were not a talkative bunch, but our defrosted companion Ssunamrozedrah informed them we were friends, about to be captured by Weyland's men, so they led us up and around a rough mountain trail to a palm shrouded encampment by the Amazon River.

Their spaceship, a gray-green object shaped like a claw, lay parked in the middle of this place, among a cluster of rough huts.

Our original plan had been to take the ship back to the island to rescue Grandmother. When we boarded the ship, we spoke with great excitement about the joyful reunion that would follow.

Golic, who had immersed himself in the Ss'sik'chtokiwij language, became a little too excited when we mentioned this, an English indiscretion that Weyland used to his advantage.

"The security perimeter is very tight around the island," our hostage said. "And I confess that I have little control over it. Every change requires additional votes from others in the committee, so taking me as a prisoner won't help matters any. They expect me to die of brain cancer any day, anyway.

"For this reason, I believe you should take with you _reinforcements_ , individuals that know the island inside and out." He said this because Golic told him about there being only two Yautjas left alive. "I suggest you locate Ellie and her friends and bring them to the island with you.

"Of course, she's currently hunting an enemy named Sil, so it might be a good idea to help out with that first, _to convince her to come back_."

The Yautja's crab mouths flared at the mention of a hunt. I noticed a gleam in their eyes, a straightening of their posture. Weyland probably could have just emphasized the hunt, and they already would have jumped at the chance. "Would this ` _Ellie'_ be offended if we assisted this hunt?"

Its companion crossed its arms. "A Yautja warrior refuses help in a hunt. He hunts alone. To request aid in such a way is a dishonor."

"She is _female_ ," Weyland said. " _And of a different species._ She would not mind."

A crab mouth frowned. "She sounds weak."

"She is the strongest our race has to offer," Weyland argued. "We have a difficult task ahead of us, and she is the best female for the job."

Both Yautja gave him grudging nods.

We boarded.

The ship wasn't in the best shape. It took a long time for the Yautjas to finish repairs, and they still had issues with the failing weapon systems and their flickering cloaking device.

The interior smelled like sweat, stale meat, and rust.

"It's a trick!" Zack cried as Weyland instructed our pilots on how to plot a course for Ellie's tracking chip. "He just wants to use you and put you in a jail!"

The Yautja ignored him, following the directions.

As we took to the air, Zack and Ippi tried to hijack the craft, but the pilots casually shot the both of them with a stun weapon, and they got shoved into cryogenic stasis units.

The creatures growled something to Ssunamrozedrah, who relayed the message. "They say your friends tried to sneak onboard when they weren't looking. They say if your friends find a way out of these machines, they will kill them. They've had enough."

Thus began our trip to the Magic Kingdom.

Ssunamrozedrah led my niece and I to the rear of her craft, showing me her sleeping quarters, a spartan, weapon filled compartment with a sleeping rug and a couple computer devices.

She showed me a few other things, a tank where they kept the oxygen producing mushrooms, the sensor arrays...

We practiced using weapons in her training room, something Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik did not approve of, but Weyland found wonderful.

The man selected several devices for the human-Ss'sik'chtokiwij to use against the `Sil', readying them in a storage bin for a future encounter.

Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik suddenly threw up on the floor, melting a hole in a panel.

"I am with egg. I feel my body rapidly developing tejhvewda. It is making my movements slow."

"Congratulations," I said.

Her expression told me she might not be so happy about this. "Thank...you. _I guess."_

Our craft was lightning quick. In a matter of seconds, we were floating over a stretch of ocean called the Mexican Strait, running a scan for Ellie's chip on the Disney Barge.

The task soon simplified itself when broadcasts on all frequencies suddenly displayed my friend's picture, and the faces of her companions, accompanied by footage of the violent bloody conflict on the upper region of the boat.

By the time we got there, the conflict had reached its end, but we still wished to enlist Ellie's aid, so we brought the craft down and let her onboard.

Upon seeing the children, the Yautja complained about being babysitters, but they still allowed my friend and her friends aboard.

We all wanted to take Ellie back to the island, but the girl (well, actually a _woman_ now) wanted to stop Sil from hurting more people, so we ended up shuttling her to a different area of the park.

The moment we dropped her off, we got shot down, our craft spinning uncontrollably into a place called Chinatown, throwing paper lanterns, parade dragons and colorful calligraphic signs past the viewscreens.

We hit big Chinese `Mickey Mao' heads, holographic equipment, advertising drones, and part of a fire escape from a nearby hotel.

We hit a brick wall, demolishing the back of a kitchen in a restaurant, blowing out the power, toppling refrigerators and microwaves and collapsing a stove. A geyser of water sprayed from the destroyed sink and associated pipes, ruining food. Canned goods flew everywhere, noisily banging into the cabinets and counters.

The crash killed and injured people, inside and outside the restaurant, Asian chefs, child slaves. A disused industrial mixer toppled on its side, pinning one of the chefs beneath.

A metal box of equipment hit me in the head, and I blacked out.

It seemed I hadn't been the only one to black out, for when I awoke, park employees with cattleprods and chains surrounded us, forcing us into metal animal cages set up around the area of the wreckage.

I sighed as I settled into the bottom of a dog kennel they'd set up next to Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik's cage.

"I tried to fight back," said my big niece. "But there were too many of them. I didn't wish to take any of their lives. Plus I cannot move very quickly with such weight growing inside me."

"What about the Yautja?"

She sighed. "They killed two humans, but then one of them began coughing and fell down. It distracted the other, and the humans got the better of them."

"Even with the armor?"

Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik nodded. "This illness makes them weak."

"And Ssunamrozedrah?"

"Confused by my lack of resistance, even after I shared my faith with her. She fought back a little too late."

The Yautja stood imprisoned in cells next to her, with Ssunamrozedrah next to theirs.

She must have put up some kind of fight, for she had the tightest restraints of all, extra chains, reinforced compartment, guards with cattleprods standing warily outside.

Weyland was nowhere to be seen.

"These humans do not know we can melt things," Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik said to me in Ss'sik'chtokiwij. "When the time is right, I shall break us out."

I gave her a solemn nod.

Across from us, someone had put up a display case, exhibiting all our weapons and tools.

I found the plaques they put up to describe us and our things laughable. Several weapons had been mislabeled as `engine parts' and sexual appliances. A food processing machine had been described as a `deadly explosive' and we'd all been given unimaginative names like `Ant-O-Don,' `Crab Man' and `The Amazing Space Worm (The `amazing' part came in when I politely asked for a bowl of ammonia and read one of the brochures that fell into the cage - `He Reads!' the sign said).'

They gave us no food, water, or objects to entertain ourselves with. We sat in our cages for what felt like hours, watching uniformed children clean up the debris, assisted by adults who actually got Hazmat suits to wear.

In no time, the humans roped the area off, charging people admission fees for looking at us, the craft, its equipment, and the two frozen magicians.

Our little exhibit stood in the shadows of a hastily constructed `barn' of sorts, hung with sections of circus tent and illuminated with dangling lights. Electric fencing kept us from getting out as much as it kept foolish people from getting in.

For some reason, Golic had been allowed to dwell in the middle of this display, preaching to anyone who would listen about how Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik was a god, unloading a very convoluted mythology about my grandmother hatching the universe out of a man in the sun. Most people mocked him and laughed, but others took him very seriously, wanting to know more.

Security guards got called in, but when they tried to remove Golic from the area, the man bowed with his face to the ground before Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik's cell, and a security chief came on the radio telling the cops that Golic had a constitutional right to share his beliefs, as long as they were not Moslem or Christian. So they let him do what he wanted.

Golic soon convinced five people to worship us, then seven.

Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik tried to convince them to stop, to worship Jesus instead, but Golic only incorporated that into his myth. I think the fact that my niece spoke English actually made things worse. "Our Lord Shasharmazorb laid an egg in the Virgin Mary, which hatched into the great Ss'sik'chtokiwij-human hybrid we know as Jesus. Iyya Shasharmazorb! Iyya Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik!"

The other seven echoed this chant.

Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik slapped herself in the face, out of embarrassment, and the worshipers took this as a mystic sign, slapping themselves in a way that looked like genuflecting.

Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik stuck out her tongue, waggling her fingers next to her head, and they did that as well. She sighed and shook her head in resignation.

This also got mirrored.

The electricity suddenly went out.

In the gloom, my eyes changed to night vision mode, I saw the red shapes of disoriented people in the crowd, the worshipers blindly reaching for the cages.

I jumped back when a cool blue figure approached my cell, undoing the lock.

To a Ss'sik'chtokiwij, that color ordinarily means something dead or otherwise inanimate. I let out a frightened meow (in case you're wondering, Ss'sik'chtokiwij do not scare easily. Few have heard one meow and lived to tell the tale). But when I heard the voice, I calmed down somewhat.

It turned out to be Big Bird, who I remembered quite clearly from the shared memories. "We need you to assist us in capturing, possibly killing a creature. I have brought you an object to help you identify their scent."

The android opened a Styrofoam container, offering me a severed baby limb, which I sniffed and ate.

"You were only supposed to smell it. I did not bring another sample."

"Sorry. I was hungry."

Big Bird did not get upset. "Did you memorize the scent?"

"Yes. I will try to find your target."

"I suggest you leave now, and from a covert location, so as to avoid detection before the power is reconnected."

"You trust me? You do not think I will kill humans?"

"If you destroy this target, you may do whatever you wish. Go. You are free."

I had no difficulty escaping the little exhibit, for the gaps in the shoddily constructed walls showed up as light or dark blue patches on the overall structure, and dots of light showed through at the corners.

When I got out, I was temporarily blinded, and I had to use my sense of smell to avoid people and find a safe place to hide.

I stumbled into a pile of boxes full of raw fish, waiting for my vision to adjust.

I'd bumbled beneath one of the stands in a little market, where people in colorful Mandarin outfits offered crowds of people cooked delicacies and souvenirs, others playing music, juggling knives or performing elaborate martial arts demonstrations.

A woman in a kimono knelt on a rug, playing _La Bamba_ on a koto. The spectacle fascinated me so much that I forgot what I was doing and just watched her.

A woman dressed like Mulan stomped on my head, then screamed and ran away, leaving one of her wooden shoes behind.

I darted from stand to stand, weaving between people's feet, occasionally becoming the subject of comments and pictures as I searched for the scent I'd been told to find.

I found no scent of any baby matching that odor anywhere

Giving up, I decided to just have fun with my newfound freedom, and investigate all the wonderful aromas.

I climbed up on a table filled with meat and vegetables, where a man in a chef's hat sauteed sliced pieces of beef and chicken. Little steaming arrangements of such food had been placed in neat rows all around.

I clambered over to a pile of fried beef wontons and ate several.

Delicious.


	32. Chapter 32: Ground Zero

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611602 (Ellie's Journal - Cont'd)

* * *

[0000]

When I first saw the black and red polka dotted object swooping down from the sky, I thought that the explosion had brought down a Minnie Mouse sculpture.

But then it flapped its wings, enfolding me in its rigid bug arms.

"Thonwa!" I cried. "You came back!"

This wasn't a time for conversation. The age old question of which object, when dropped from the top floor of the Empire State Building, would hit the ground first, a rock or a penny, no longer seemed like a matter of mere academic speculation. If a piece of Mickey's Speedway traveled faster than I fell, I'd be in for a very nasty concussion, maybe end up being crushed to death.

We darted below falling pylons, flew around chunks of steel and concrete. It reminded me of all those science fiction movies where people attempted to fly their spaceships through asteroid fields.

We flitted to a parapet on Cinderella's Castle, along an unstable sloping blue tile roof. I could feel the building shaking beneath my feet, but happened to be out of the way of falling debris.

From a distance, the castle seemed like a big impressive edifice, but it looked a lot smaller up close, most of it a facade, a decorative gate that you walked through to reach other areas of the park.

The destruction was terrible, the sections of freeway and its cars collapsing into the monorail tracks beneath, those in turn smashing into the park, where hundreds of people got crushed to death by falling objects, magnetic cars, furniture bolted to sections of flooring, sparking electrical transformers with live wires snapping out to electrocute their victims.

Thonwa dove down into the park, rescuing a man here, a woman there, but she eventually came back up, gasping and panting for breath as she leaned on the parapet. The alien was no Superman.

Great clouds of dust billowed out from the kilometer long blocks of concrete as they struck the upper deck of the barge. The enormous impact and weight caused the water surrounding the boat to radiate outwards in great tidal waves, threatening to capsize everything.

A massive replica of the Tower of the Sun from Osaka's 1970 Expo teetered at the brink of collapse and stayed there, like a modern art version of the Tower of Pisa, the impassive god face appearing to regard the scene below with contempt.

The Jolly Roger broke free from its moorings, its bridge washing away in the deluge, embarking on a solo voyage nobody had prepared for, while scores of park people found themselves taking an unwanted swim in the choppy waters.

Hawaii had become a floating raft, connected by nothing but thick tow chains. A golf cart, which had been crossing the bridge at the time, sunk into the Strait.

I stared at the carnage, praying none of my friends were down in the thick of it.

It took some doing, but I managed to remove the gun posts from my wrist and hand. There was a catch that you had to squeeze together to make the hooks disengage. I stuffed the gun in my suit top, hoping it wouldn't cause a wardrobe malfunction, on account of the spots of acidic blood. "Have you seen Ssunamrozedrah? Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik's niece?"

The fat bug shook her head sadly. "I caught her as she fell off the side of the bridge, but she only asked me to put her back up there again. She was quite adamant about it."

I stifled a sob. "You think...she's still alive?"

"I don't know, dear. _It's awfully dusty._ I wouldn't know where to begin looking."

I swallowed a lump. "We have to find Sil. She's the cause of all this."

"I'd wait until the dust clears, or at least until we know that no more debris will be coming down."

"I've waited long enough." With that, I swung over the fake brickwork that composed the rampart.

"Wait, dear. Let me help you. A suicide mission may not be a true suicide if you have company."

With that, she grabbed me around the waist, flying me to the ground.

The mountains of crushed concrete and metal looked like the mess from a building demolition, the dust so thick I could barely breathe without coughing. If I were a mere human, this would have stopped me in my tracks, but my alien physiology appeared to have stronger than average lungs.

Come to think of it, this explained a lot about how well I did at swimming events back at the island.

Still, I kind of wished I had actual breathing mask, a mouse mask, a mask period, to block the particulates.

I crunched ahead across the debris. The broken bodies pinned beneath all the wreckage reminded me of footage I'd seen of the World Trade Center disaster, except a lot more bright and colorful. The t-shirts, the costumes, the gift shop junk, the garish architectural decoration pieces, gargoyles, trappings of the Marvel-DC universe, broken pieces of amusement park rides...

A dislodged screen from a smashed advertising kiosk retained enough electrical and computing power to display an adult cartoon called Georgie Goo, a Betty Boop-like male character that pranced around nude and sang while doing sexual things.

It took me awhile to find what I was looking for. I mean, I couldn't very well sniff around holding my breath to keep the dust out of my lungs.

I managed to focus my watery eyes to where I saw heat signatures in the fog.

As an unintended consequence, I spotted survivors in the rubble, which led to me and Thonwa nearly wearing ourselves out lifting heavy objects off of people (adulthood has granted me a surprising amount of strength - I could, in theory, hold up the tail end of a car high enough for a person to change a flat, provided they changed it in five minutes). I'd shift a heavy piece off of a victim, allowing them the freedom to help themselves, and then move to the next, hoping each one would be Sil, and that I'd never see any of my friends trapped beneath those rocks.

The superheroes I saw were far too mortal. Captain America died when pieces of his `mighty shield' got lodged in his chest cavity.

I had neither the time nor the skill to treat all those injuries, and Thonwa, allegedly a doctor, complained that she did not have supplies enough to do more than a few hasty rag bandages and splints, so we moved from mound to mound, turning over debris like a little kid trying to rid his rock garden of all the roly poly bugs and worms.

The Firebird stood nose down in the scattered rubble, reminding me of pictures I'd seen of the car graveyard along Historic Route 66. Seeing no sign of a heat signature inside, I could only conclude that Ssunamrozedrah wasn't there.

Thonwa shrieked as a fist shot out of a pile of rubble, through her rear carapace, and out the front of her chest.

The fist, coated in blood, clutched a throbbing vital organ.

When the fist withdrew, the ladybug creature gave me one last helpless glance, slumping limp on the ground.

The face of my enemy emerged from the dust, a look of pure fury on its features. The attached body caused a rockslide as it fought against the weighty debris.

Sil brushed heavy chunks of concrete away from her body and stood up, clenching her fists. "You hypocrite!"

"What?"

She spread her hands, gesturing at all the destruction, nonverbally saying, `Look what you've done.' "These people didn't have to die. So many warm egg laying vessels dead, _because of you!_ "

"They wouldn't be dead if you weren't so busy throwing-" I began, but she cut me off.

"Bitch!" she screamed, her fists turning white. " _Let me finish!"_

The words stung like a slap, but before I could give her a piece of my mind, she growled, "You're no better than me. In fact, you're worse because you're willing to destroy thousands of human lives just to kill one woman!"

"Who's throwing the grenades!" I shouted. "Who shot up that monorail station full of people!"

"I'd expect more gratitude from someone I just saved from a life of abuse and enslavement!"

I stepped around Theme Park Wolverine's shattered claw. "You could have done that without so much bloodshed."

She stalked closer to me in slow, panther-like movements. " _You didn't have to follow me! You could have left me alone!_ If you had an ounce of independent thought instead of being such a blind follower, a corporate sheep-!"

"You call me a sheep, but you're an _animal_! _A slave to your sex drive! You don't care who gets hurt and dies, as long as you have your precious babies!"_

Her hand shot out, clamped vice-like around my throat, her strong muscles lifting me off the ground. My feet kicked and dangled uselessly.

I responded with a four finger eye shot, but she grabbed hold of the hand, crushing it in her fist as hard as she could. I screamed.

My throat, being an exoskeleton covered in skin (so I've heard), did not easily succumb to choking attacks. This is why, instead of grabbing her other arm and trying to pry her fingers away from my neck, I puled the alien weapon out of my top.

She released my other hand and wrenched the gun away, giving me a forceful kick to the ribs when I fought to keep possession of the weapon.

She struck me in the head with the butt of the gun, then, once I'd crumpled to the ground, leveled the muzzle at my skull.

Her finger muscles contracted around the weapon's trigger, initiating the short squeeze that would ultimately vaporize my brain.

And then I heard drumbeats.

It sounded like the bass line to the song they played for Mothra in that old _Godzilla_ movie.

Five shadowy figures slowly danced out of the dust cloud, two of them twirling fire in the style of the Polynesians, two of them with double ended flame sticks, one with poi wick and chains, and a female pounding on a Djembe with her bare hands.

They wore the garb of gypsy peasants, looking like jugglers at a Renaissance festival. The group seemed... _familiar_.

The long faced blonde poi spinner was Mr. Hattam.

To the right, Ippi Snarken twirled the flame baton from her tail to her arms, then making a wheel as she lay on her back, matching the placid faced synthetic human effortlessly spinning at center, and behind them, Rosa kept beat on the Djembe.

Big Bird danced closer, twirling her flame baton, burning the glowing afterimages of circles and figure eights across our retinas.

An unfamiliar individual, a spotty black and white android designed to look like a cat, appeared in their midst, armed with a fiddle, performing a jaunty baroque number, prompting Rosa to step up the pace. The flames never stopped spinning.

Big Bird whirled like a Sufi Dervish, incorporating ballet and belly dancing into the movements, skillfully avoiding burns to herself and nearby objects.

Both I and my enemy became entranced by the circling flames, neither understanding the point or purpose to the spectacle as it closed around us.

The hand holding the gun relaxed somewhat, and so did I, moving my head out of the way as Sil and I continued watching the dancers.

I glanced at the weapon in Sil's hand, silently asking Big Bird if I should make a grab for it, but she shook her head no. She'd done this as part of the dance, making me uncertain if she meant yes or hadn't answered. I decided my friends hadn't put together this elaborate production to simply disarm her, so I let it play out.

The tempo of the music increased to a frenzied pace as Big Bird danced closer and closer with the flaming staff. Both Sil and I shrank back from the blazing ends.

Big Bird shifted the staff to one hand, spun it, threw it twirling into the air.

When my eyes returned to the android for a moment, I caught the glint of something metallic in her right hand, but she hid it well, misdirecting our attention with astonishing acts of one handed juggling.

A ballet spin brought Big Bird well within arm's length of Sil.

The silver object flashed from her hand as it came down in a swift but methodically precise stab to the hybrid's carotid artery.

Sil responded by blasting a hole through Big Bird's stomach, point blank. Organic machine parts and milky white coolant exploded messily from her back.

The android spat up globs of coolant, but was ultimately unperturbed. In fact, she had the presence of mind to clamp something to the end of the gun and impale herself upon the weapon, then then hand that wielded it, to keep it from moving.

Rosa opened the Djembe, tossing Zack an object that looked like one of those `communicator' badges a Star Trek character would wear. Like a powerful electromagnet, Zack used this device to whisk the gun out of Sil's clutches.

Enraged, Sil brought her hands together, ripping the robot's upper torso from its lower in a spray of white fluid.

Sil staggered backwards, looking woozy. Her skin fluctuated from human Caucasian to bare gray insect shell and back again. It seemed the drug had taken effect.

Zack aimed the weapon and fired, but Sil was already bounding over a mountain of debris. Concrete, rebar, and bits of a smashed Plymouth Duster exploded like a mortar had hit them.

Caitlyn, who had been concealed by my cloaking device all this time, now made herself visible to give me a hug.

I rubbed her head. "Where's the others?"

She frowned and shook her head.

I swallowed. "They died?"

"No..." She just sighed.

"Well, at least they're not dead."

"Truly!"

I frowned at the spotty cat robot. "You're working with Weyland, aren't you?"

The android nodded. "Anything to help my daughter Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik and her friends."

I pointed to the dying bug alien on the ground. "Thonwa needs help! She's in dire need of medical attention!"

She gave me a nod, rushing to the body. "Go. Get Sil."

Zack tossed me the gun. "Good luck!"

I nodded my thanks, stuffing it in my top.

The door of the Firebird popped open, and out fell my Ss'sik'chtokiwij friend.

"Ssunamrozedrah!" I cried. "You're alive!"

"Go," she croaked. "Continue the hunt!"

I reached the other side of the mound just in time to see Sil jumping onto the roof of a speeding monorail car.

I had mere seconds to make a decision that could possibly cost me my life. I could either jump after, or spend days wandering the park, risking arrest and/or imprisonment as I tried to pick up her trail again.

I leapt.

At learning town's summer camp, we had something called `The Blob', a big inflatable thing they kept in the middle of the lake. You jumped off a high dive onto its damp slippery surface, rolling off into the water.

The monorail was kind of like that, except its body was hard and unyielding metal.

I hit the roof, sliding off the edge.

I suckered my way back up, nearly becoming decapitated by a steel girder that came rushing my way.

On my left side, water whipped by like I were on a speedboat with no wake, to my right, a wall of metal painted with sequenced images of Steamboat Willie that became an animation as I zoomed past them.

The polka dot dress that I wore over my leather costume, basically a shredded rag to begin with, blew away with the whipping wind.

Not wanting to let Sil out of my sight, I hurriedly crab walked and crawled the length of the train car, dropping to my stomach every time I saw a maintenance scaffold, light up sign or overhang.

Sil had made herself too small for an accurate shot, but I hoped to change that. I ducked a sign that only meant something to the engineer, climbing from car to car.

Sil limped and staggered, probably due to whatever Big Bird had injected her with, her body shifting from gray to human peach. I'm certain I wouldn't have been able to catch up otherwise.

Only two cars lay between me and Sil. She glanced back, as if waiting for something to knock my head off, then hobbled further away.

I raised my weapon, aimed for the target I had the highest probability of hitting, the middle of her chest.

My shot strayed when the drone came down to visit my foe.

The orb shaped object flitted through the air on compressed air jets and propellers, a LED sign on its posterior end spelling out the letters N-E-R-V, a gift box clutched in its mechanical claw.

"We love you, Silvia!" voices cheered from its built in speakers. "Space killers forever!"

"More blood!" someone cried.

"Blow up Epcot!" said another.

"Kill that Jesus freak!"

Sil smiled and took the box, unfastening the simple latches that held the lid in place. "Thank you."

I winced as a bullet struck me in the back of the leg.

I spun around and saw a pair of men in Mickey Mouse masks firing handguns from the gap between trains.

I blew open the roof in front of their faces, making them disappear.

I turned just in time to see Sil pulling two shiny Desert Eagles, gun clips, and a hunting knife out of the box.

"Kill that bible thumping bitch!" a girl's voice shouted from the drone.

"Alien killers rule!"

"Justice for child lovers!"

Grinning, Sil aimed a pistol at me and fired.

I dropped to my stomach, but noticed my hair sticking out of a hole in my costume headpiece, right where one of the mouse ears used to be.

A bullet hit the train roof right in front of me, leaving a hole the size of a tennis ball. Someone screamed.

For an entire minute, Sil and I exchanged shots, dodging bullets and dangerous overhangs like characters in an old western or a spy movie.

Behind me, shots popped through the roof (the masked men again) but they didn't seem to know where I was, so the bullets strayed wildly away from their target.

Sil's guns clicked empty. She loaded in fresh clips, sending down a couple more shots.

I returned fire, but had to dodge a sign before I could hit the target.

A section of the roof blew away next to my enemy, prompting her to advance upon me with guns blazing.

A bullet struck me right in the abdomen.

Wincing, I dove off the side of the train and hung above the windows, avoiding the worst of her barrage.

The guys in Mickey masks shot holes in the windows right next to me, but I moved out of the way.

The moment I got back up, I heard an angry shriek, and a body wrapped in dirty white fuzz pinned me to the roof, raising a knife to stab me.

The drug appeared to have worn off, for now my enemy's face and exposed skin took on a pale but human color.

I sat up and jabbed my fingers into her eyes, but she only screamed for a second before crushing my hand, stealing my weapon.

I tried to shoot her with a Desert Eagle I stole from her holster, but it clicked empty, explaining why she had chosen hand to hand combat rather than just blowing my brains out.

Before she could attempt something similar with the Yautja weapon, I pistol whipped her across the face.

She punched back.

I heard the sound of heavy boots thump down behind me, a second similar sound coming from up ahead, but saw nobody.

"Ssunamrozedrah?" I said.

Sil fired the blaster behind her, and one of Ssunamrozedrah's Yautja buddies became visible, toppling backwards onto the roof with a loud thud.

The invisible creature behind me fired at her, but Sil ducked and the shot hit a steel girder. An entire section of Middle Earth collapsed behind us, fake boulders, trees, and man sized animatronic spiders hitting the train, bouncing into the water.

Noting Sil's temporary distraction, I struck her across the face with the pistol again, reached for the blaster, but that's when the monorail stopped to let people out.

A figure flickered visible behind me, the cloaking device malfunctioning. Sil aimed the weapon.

Now _I_ was distracted.

Sil fired a shot, but the Yautja had activated a shielding device, the blast instead destroying a section of Hogwarts School as we passed into another region of the park. A wall full of fake stones, support structures and medieval decor pounded the monorail and showered into the water, a suit of armor clattering noisily with its shield and standard.

The Yautja pointed his weapon, a series of triangular red laser targets aligning on Sil's forehead, but she was already jumping into the mob of disembarking people below.

The Yautja clutched his chest and sat down, breathing heavily.

I shook my head. "Stay here."

Then, noting how dangerous it was on the roof, I added, " _Approximately._ "

The creature handed me his weapon, pounding his chest in salute. His mandibles flexed.

Thanking him, I jumped off the car, focusing my senses on the task of catching up with the hybrid.

I entered a strange sort of movie studio line with soundproof padding, a tour guide, clad in a costume like mine (well, before all the battle damage), explaining the various areas to the crowd (they had earpieces that allowed them to hear the guide over the noise). My subconscious absorbed the sounds, recording them like a machine, but my mind mutely scanned for the enemy.

I passed a giant green room with modular sets representing different areas in a mansion, staircase sections, drawing room furniture...It reminded me of a stage play, but as I looked into a nearby booth, I could see a man with a suite of computer programs that transformed the area into a dark spooky Victorian.

A scantily clad woman ran down a staircase, followed by the knife wielding man in a creepy dog mask.

A device by the mixing board continually chattered at the console guy, giving suggestions.

"Hit him with the staircase gargoyle!" a voice shouted.

"Show us your tits!" _A female voice_ had said that.

Console Guy pushed a button. "You got that, Vickie? Let Ed kill you."

"It's not going to come off the rail," she muttered.

"Exactly. Act like you're doing it anyway. Oh, and loosen your top in the next take."

"Oh God. I'm practically naked as it is!"

"You're wearing _pasties_. Deal."

The woman pulled on the gargoyle and it broke off, hitting the masked guy in the face.

"Props!" Console Guy yelled at the top of his lungs.

The tour guide explained to the tourists how the first installment of this I-Movie, _Sadistik_ , had grossed billions of dollars, and how they did the effects. "I-Films aren't as interactive as you might think. Although the content is ninety percent user inspired, a vast portion of this is established through months of beta testing like you see here. Our carefully selected demographics allow for a wide array of choices, allowing the finished product to provide a generally accurate response to any conceivable verbal command. Of course, our cast members remain on call in the event of unexpected responses."

Seeing the men in mouse masks pushing their way through the crowd, I stepped behind a pair of married men in Catholic schoolgirl uniforms, ducking to avoid detection. I could only hope they didn't have drones, or look below the skirts.

So far it was just two mouse men, a fat man and a skinny man, both clad from head to foot in black army clothes. Skull and Bulk, I thought mockingly.

They were filming the movie about the woman and the shark across the hall. Convenient, since they could just pump water from the Mexican Strait around their boat and change the background and create a brand new scene.

I traced Sil's scent around the windows and control booth ("Stand up more slowly when you're grabbing the harpoon, Sheryl! They love that ass!") passing into another soundproofed hallway.

Sil's scent became heavier. Definitely in the area.

A studio to the right featured a swamp set, where a boy and a girl in Jedi Knight costumes knelt before...nothing, a digital Yoda added in with computer systems.

Arguably the most depressing interactive program in the studio, on account of the pathetic user responses.

"Great Yoda, please tell me how to live my life," one of the users said.

An actor in a nearby booth responded in Yoda's funny voice, electrodes on his face causing the digital alien to mirror his lip movements. "Within you the answer lay."

"The Path of the Jedi," said a different tour guide, this one dressed like a vampire. "One of the few I-Productions with actual real-time segments. Those in the Jedi Order say that these sessions can be deep and life changing."

"Great Yoda," a man was saying. "I'm struggling with issues of guilt. I've hurt a lot of people in my life. Family members, friends..." I thought I heard a sob. "I know you told me to focus on the present and `become new', but it's not working. I can't help but feel that my friend killed himself because of something I said to him, and I can't ever take that back."

"Try harder you must," the Yoda actor said. "Possible if you try, it is."

"No, Yoda. I don't think so. I've..." The man was really crying now. "I've tried. Believe me I have. Oh God, I've tried."

The Yoda actor fell speechless, staring at the man in the control box, who only shrugged at him, mouthing, "It's a damn cyber puppet, what do these people expect?"

Without thinking, I grabbed the mike out of the actor's hands and said, "What you need is Jesus."

The digital Yoda, of course, did not move its lips, but the sound traveled anyway.

The actor's face flushed bright red as he yelled, "Get that bitch out of here!"

I slipped away before security could grab me.

"There she is!" I heard a muffled voice shouting.

I pushed my way into a flock of Jedi.

Sil, in the meantime, had paused in front of a studio for some `sightseeing'.

The set: A modern bedroom, one where a naked man and a lingerie clad woman lay together in a bed piled with chrome colored silk, surrounded by drones and cameras, I guess to capture their sexual intercourse from every possible angle.

The user suggestions were thoroughly disgusting and unnecessary for any sort of realism, sexual positions, directions on touching, and some ideas for `games' that ranged from the demeaning to the fatal. I imagined, if you tracked down... _whoever those creeps were_ , you'd probably find a stack of dead bodies piled up in their basement.

"I thought you said you were bi!" A man in the booth yelled. "The fans love how platonic you've been up to this point, but _you've got to put out!_ This is the big payoff!"

"Oh God," the woman groaned. "You're _gay_ , aren't you?"

Her bed partner didn't reply, but the answer was obvious.

The man in the booth swore at this. "I'm not having this production turn into another _Queens of Transylvania_! You told me you were bi, let's see some bi action!"

"I'm a vampire," said the actor. "Can't I say it rotted and fell off?"

"We just showed your dick in the last scene, genius."

When Sil saw me, she didn't speak, she just shoved my head through the glass.

"What the fuck was that?" cried the man in bed.

"Tony, _I'm not seeing any fucking at all..._ "

I slugged my enemy, drew my gun.

Sil's weapon jabbed me in the chest.

The air shimmered.

Something invisible hit Sil in the side, knocked her into the bedroom, totally ruining the scene.

...Ish.

The actors stared at us.

"Oh thank God!" said the gay guy in the bed.

More swearing from the control booth.

But then I heard, "Wait, is that that freak kid and the shooter?...You two, keep acting surprised. They're... _demons from the Shadow Realm_. Tony, inform the audience and take your sword from your bag to attack them."

"Why don't you _come out of that booth and attack them yourself_?" Tony challenged.

More swearing.

Ssunamrozedrah made herself visible, pointing her blaster at Sil.

I did the same. "It's over, Sil."

A vampire nightclub/bar stood next door to the bedroom piece. Sil leapt over the glowing counter, scattering bottles and glasses full of tea and colored water. When we gave chase, we knocked over a row of display motorcycles.

Under the guidance of eager NERV viewers with flying drones, Sil popped out from behind a counter and shot at us. It probably looked great because of all that lighting and camera equipment.

I jumped behind a booth, but it was all plywood and sugar glass, so it offered little protection.

Hearing a gunshot behind me, I ducked again. It seemed `Skull and Bulk' had followed me into the studio.

By the time I got to the floor, I already had another bullet in the back of my leg.

I think I must have an exoskeleton, because those bullets didn't impede my movements much at all. I snapped off a shot in their direction, and the big guy crumpled to the floor with a hole in his chest. A second shot, from my invisible companion, took down the narrow one.

Sil's gun stopped working. It seemed even alien weapons run out of charge sooner or later. Giving up, she ran out from behind the bar and through an employee exit, back into the soundproofed hallway.

We rushed past another set of rooms, a show involving puppets and naked people, then something Marvel related, then up a staircase into Neverland.

I liked it better when the Lost Boys wore _clothing_.

It was a fitness area, outside, on the deck of the boat, with bridges, fake trees, ladders, and ball pits to keep kids busy. I'm not sure why the village, with all its tipis and such, wasn't next to the Jolly Roger, but I guess a great many things, other than the work of J.M. Barrie, had been lost in translation.

A man dressed like Peter Pan stepped out of a tipi, giving Sil a friendly wave and a courteous bow, offering her a rucksack. I shuddered to think of what might be in the bag.

I and Ssunamrozedrah fired, but Sil ripped the door off of a maintenance pillbox and ran inside before we could inflict any damage.

I ran toward the little building, then screamed as a lithe female body swung down right in front of my face.

I calmed down when I saw the fuzzy neck and arms, the tail wrapped tightly around an artificial tree branch. She still wore a gypsy outfit.

"Ippi!"

She gave me an upside down smile (right side up from her vantage point), offering me a magician's suitcase.

"We've got to stop that _hlessi_." The smile vanished from her face. "I wouldn't have cared if her victims were all adults, but _kavork_! _She's murdering human hatchlings_! Blow her fucking head off."

"Where's Josh and Kamara? My friends?"

Ippi sighed. _"It's complicated._ Just go."

Swallowing hard, I pushed my feelings aside.

Ippi smirked and waved to the shimmering air beside me. " _Dusaq_ , Ssunamrozedrah." She popped back up into the trees.

The suitcase seemed heavier than I expected, but when I cracked the lid, I saw nothing inside. Some kind of magic trick I'd have to figure out.

The guy dressed like Peter Pan pulled out a black powder pistol and fired at me, but I deflected his shot with the suitcase.

A cloud of pink smoke blew out of the hole in such a steady stream that I thought Barbara Eden was going to appear in costume to grant me wishes, but it was just a smoke bomb.

It was just as well, for behind me I heard gunshots. Three more people in Mickey Mouse masks, out for blood.

The pillbox had yellow markings all around, warning about a sharp drop, but with all the smoke, I couldn't see it. I dam near fell and broke my legs.

Below lay stood a vertical shaft with a metal ladder leading to the innards of the ship.

Tiring of the limited visibility, I removed the smoke bomb from the hole in the suitcase, throwing it at the masked men chasing me through the fog.

It turns out the bomb contained more than just smoke. A deafening explosion knocked me screaming headfirst down the shaft.

Imagine me hitting the bottom of this concrete well and hearing the sickening crack of both my spine and cranium shattering beneath me.

Lucky for me, Ssunamrozedrah was already halfway down the ladder, extending her arm as I took my plunge.

I heard cracking and the sounds of a suppressed scream as I inflamed her prior injury.

"Sorry," I blurted, quickly sliding out of her grip to grab at the first metal bar I saw.

My hand caught the bar, but once my full weight swung upon it, it snapped off, and I flipped through the air to the floor.

I must have some cat genes spliced into me, because I landed feet first. No bones broken, but the impact hurt really bad.

Recovering, I looked up just in time to see my suitcase dropping onto my head.

The object broke open, spilling its contents on the floor.

A pigeon, previously trapped in the suitcase, pecked me in the face, frantically beating me with its wings as it pattered away.

The suitcase's other contents: Handcuffs, police pistol with armor piercing rounds, fake severed hand, throwing knives, dagger with a blade that harmlessly retracted when you stabbed something with it, brass pistol with darts in it, medical injector pen, and a couple Yautja items, a bulbous looking gun and a bracelet that turned into a sword.

The Yautja blaster had fish hooked my wrist again. I frowned, glad, at least, that it had left my hands free.

I prayed those kids up top had survived the explosion.

Rubbing my sore head, I put the items back in the suitcase, then put them back again, or into my costume, when I noticed I'd dropped them through a false bottom.

Sil's trail led me through a long curving tunnel roaring with the buzz of crowd noise, muttering, music and conversations, like some bratty kids in the electronics section at a department store had turned all the stereos on at once. A moving kaleidescope of mismatched color danced across the walls in odd irregular patterns.

The tunnel opened to a room filled with hundreds of the morbidly obese, all in overstuffed

recliners surrounded by video monitors.

The smell was unpleasant, masked with Febreeze, Lysol, some other chemicals to maybe add some degree of cleanliness to these not-so-easy-to-move individuals. At best it smelled like a nursing home. At best.

For a moment, I just froze, trying to understand what I saw.

These naked shapeless overweight blobs all wore computer glasses, fat hands wiggling in the air or clicking buttons on armrests as they pointed to things on different screens, displays, from thousands of live cameras.

This was the method Big Brother used to watch everyone.

A watcher with huge man breasts and a full catheter bag pointed to a recording of an amateur show in a high school gymnasium. "Unauthorized performance of _Spoon Man_. Ten thousand dollar fine, plus a damaging press release."

"Bootlegging!" a grotesquely swollen woman shouted as she highlighted people passing around computer chips in an office. An android changed the woman's catheter bag, switched out a filthy bedpan in her seat.

"There's a little kid in a blue _Minions_ t-shirt shoplifting in Gift Shop 1220B," said a whale-like man with dark shiny hair. "Send in security to rough her up. Year sentence, min. Unless you want her for Moloch."

"Copy that," said a voice in his radio headset. "That little bitch will never steal again."

A robot nurse with a squirrel head tossed him a bag of pork rinds, set a can of Red Bull in his cup holder. A scoreboard on the back wall said he was three hundred points away from having his choice of a prostitute or a child bride.

They reported a man for passing out bible tracts, but let a group of cult members buy guns from a dealer.

"A police standoff and a gunfight will make a great news story," said a voice on the radio. "And spike membership for the more established religions."

Even worse than this, I noticed a bank of these overweight persons controlling drones with X-Box controllers, not only spying but actually shooting at people. They had been responsible for the machine gun firing Mickey drone at the aquarium.

A camera drone flitted around my head.

Then another.

And another.

All the blobs in recliners slowly craned their fat necks, looking straight at me.

The room filled with their panicked, helpless wailing.

I flinched as a chunk of concrete exploded next to my head.

Sil held a pair of semiautomatics, blasting away.

Ssunamrozedrah fell to the floor with a shriek.

I dropped down, aimed my weapon, but nothing happened when I pulled the trigger. "Shit!"

I tossed it aside, clicking my suitcase open.

Without warning, it shot straight up on its hidden legs, becoming a demonstration table.

Surprised, Sil relaxed her grip on the guns, staring wide eyed at me as I shakily got to my feet, hands raised. Her eyes darted back and forth in suspicion.

"Fancy a magic trick?" I stammered.


	33. Chapter 33: Showdown

The suitcase had automatically popped itself open for a little magic show. A shelf on either side, purple cloth hanging over the front and back of the box portion.

I examined the tools.

The armor piercers hadn't done Press any good, and I wasn't good at throwing knives. I'd have to figure out something else.

For some miraculous reason, Sil didn't shoot me, she just kept staring, wild eyed, guns at the ready. Perhaps, just like me, she longed to have a friend like herself, a peer, wondering if things could be resolved peacefully.

Trying to locate that secret compartment that held the brass gun, I clicked a couple levers, only to find the case belching out purple smoke and tongues of flame.

She flinched, aimed her guns at my head.

"Relax!" I cried. "It's just a trick!"

I didn't really know any magic except for one really lame card trick Josh showed me at camp a long time ago.

I shuffled the cards, offering her the hand. "Pick a card from anywhere in the deck."

The trick played out like you'd expect. Sil wasn't impressed.

I showed her the trick handcuffs, how to escape them. I showed her the little card that told you how to do it, watched as she propped her guns in her armpits to toy with the cuffs.

She flinched as I pulled out the fake knife, then relaxed as she watched me `stab myself.'

A pen injector labeled `Formula 3' had been in the case with the other objects. I slipped it into a sleeve while demonstrating the knife.

I playfully jabbed her in the stomach with the harmless blade.

"Stop," she snapped, glaring at me as she took the handcuffs off.

I gave her an innocent shrug, concealing the movement of the injector to my hand. "What? You ticklish or something?"

I poked her in the side a few times as I stepped around, then, once I faced her back, I rammed the injector into her spine.

She screamed as I pushed the button, punching me so hard that I flew across the hallway and knocked a gold plaque off the wall.

Sil's body was a solid gray now, not flickering human at all.

"Bitch!" she roared, kicking my suitcase to the floor, scattering stuff all over.

I whipped out the bulb shaped gun at the same time Sil drew her semiautomatics, but I fired first.

Instead of injuring her, the air rippled between us, throwing my enemy through the air like a bus had hit her. I could only guess that the weapon operated on sound waves.

Sil landed on a fat guy, elbowing him in the throat as she climbed off his recliner.

Ding.

Behind me, a set of elevator doors opened, and out came four drones, a pair of machine gun fliers and two spider-like things with top mounted AR-15 assault rifles. They fired.

Then Sil came after me with guns of her own.

I fired behind me, smashing a drone into a wall with a sonic wave.

The other ones came in for an attack. I ran back the way I came, jumping around a corner and ducking behind a recliner to avoid their shots.

Air raid sirens blared all over the park, accompanied by dispassionately cheerful recorded messages on PA systems telling everyone to evacuate.

"Teams Eleven to Ninety Three, transport all young interns to Service Boat 4," said a garbled voice on the radio. "Gently corral into quarters. PR drones are out. No rough stuff, no hits to face or limbs. Prepare top tier workers for display chambers, L3 and below go to the hold, but keep the good ones up front."

On the monitors, security footage showed tough looking uniformed men marching masses of child workers through the streets of the barge, onto a downscaled pink aircraft carrier with a giant statue of a bra-less Little Mermaid on the prow.

As the drones came in, guns blazing, the unhealthy thick limbed man in the chair I hid behind exploded in a messy red spray.

I popped out from behind the chair, demolishing clusters of monitors, to throw the drones off track.

It didn't work. I'd only destroyed the screens. The machine gun spiders scampered in, bullets rattling out their muzzles.

I jumped up on a chair, hopping from arm to arm to avoid the thing, snatching computer glasses off of everyone within reach. I threw them far across the room, requiring the watchers to do the impossible to regain the items - getting out of their seats.

The men in charge of the sniper drones apparently cared little for their grotesque neighbors, for they did not hesitate to fire upon me, no matter where I was or who got hurt. The guy that reported the little girl now bled from multiple gunshot wounds.

I shattered a ground drone with my gun, then flipped its owner's recliner, leaving him helpless facedown on the floor.

A nurse droid came after me with a needle, but I kicked her in the head, then used her fuzzy comrade as a shield when a flying drone came by with a barrage.

An android on the floor tried to stab my leg with her needle, but I stomped her hand and blasted her in the face. She looked like a clay doll that a giant thumb had squished in the head.

I shot down the flying drone, snatched away more glasses from the morbidly obese, kicked Sil to the floor.

I pointed my weapon at the hybrid's head, but she had her own gun jabbed into my ribs.

"Go ahead," I said. "Regardless of what you do, your head will become a pancake."

"We will join each other in death."

I heard the elevator ding again, then the chaotic sound of machine guns blasting away at someone or something. I couldn't tell if it were the cavalry or armed drones plowing through my friends.

Catching me glancing that way, Sil shot me in the lower chest, right above my stomach.

I squeezed the trigger of my weapon, but only sparks came out the end.

I staggered backwards, clutching my chest.

It hurt to breathe, but I was still okay.

I threw my useless gun aside, drawing the police pistol out of my costume.

That's when Eight and his identical twin brother stepped into the room, firing IMI Negevs, the kind that's heavy enough to require a special stand... _without the stand_.

Not trusting them any more than the drones, I hid among the human potatoes, trembling as I watched all the blood spraying from the chairs.

Regardless if the hybrid were their primary target, I did not doubt they would be glad to mow me down along with her. I kept to the floor.

"Give yourself up, Sil," the spotty cat robot called from the entrance. "I've closed off all exits to this facility. You have nowhere to go!"

I didn't trust Eight, but the cat had helped me before.

Uttering a prayer of thanks, I slowly stood up, raising my hands.

Eight gave me a sumo wrestler's grumpy nod and a stiff wave, indicating I should get over there. I supposed that was as friendly as he got.

I hurried to his side, getting a second nod, indicating, perhaps, to pick up my stuff.

He fired his gun so close to my head that I had to cover my mouth to silence a scream.

"The bitch is escaping!" Eight barked.

The android looked untroubled. "She won't get far."

There wasn't much of anything useful to pick up. I grabbed what I thought might help me, hurrying to the robot.

"The dark colored gun contains the fourth formulation of the chemical," she said. "Your success with the first dosage is promising. This one should be strong enough to completely neutralize her."

Past mentally debating the killing at this point, I only gave her a grim nod.

As the men chased Sil through the room, I ran through the outer tunnel, in hopes of cutting her off, and avoiding bullets.

An agonized scream and gunshots told me that Sil had dispatched with one of the Eight clones. She darted out into the corridor, running straight into a giant steel wall.

She paused, searching the heavy rusted surface for an opening.

The hybrid punched the metal, then screamed and held her hand like she had actually injured herself.

Clenching her fists, she whirled around and shrieked, "What did you do to me!"

I swallowed. "I did what I had to."

She drew a Glock out of her bag. "Same here."

I tried to shoot her with the serum, but she kept firing bullets, so I couldn't get a clear shot.

Before I could draw a bead on her, she ripped the panel off a maintenance hatch and jumped into the darkness.

I entered a cramped passage jammed full of thick pipes sweating with condensation. Sewer pipes, judging by their width, though I spotted a couple narrow ones, too, probably for cleaning catheter bags and bedpans, maybe some light washing.

And they sprayed _the kids_ with a fire hose.

Not an ounce of copper anywhere. It seemed even Disney cut corners in that department.

"This looks cozy," a voice said behind me.

Eight. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. "Yeah. _Cozy._ "

The pipes and whatnot continued for a few yards, connecting to a catwalk that forked in the middle. A pungent sewer smell hit us the moment we stepped out there.

" _Someone's making brownies_ ," Eight joked.

I furrowed my brow, feeling more than a little conflicted about this man. We weren't exactly friends, but he wasn't exactly killing everyone in sight, per se, so I felt compelled to do the Christian thing and forgive him. Still, _he shot Shelly and other people_...forgiving wasn't that easy.

I decided to let him try to be friendly, if this were his inclination, and keep moving.

The catwalk stood above large vats of sewage, each tank receiving a different process of treatment, machines that looked like grass seed spreaders showering waste in powder, machines that sparked and ignited methane to turn rotors in electrical generators, a tank filled with maggots with a screen over it to trap flies and process them into a slurry that was irradiated, baked and sent down a conveyor belt to some other place in the boat, I guess to make energy bars.

"I like eating those things," Eight muttered. "But the wings get stuck in your throat."

"I'm sorry I killed you," I muttered.

The man chuckled. " _You_? Kill _me_? Now that's a laugh!"

He serioused up. "See Sil anywhere?"

It wasn't something I really wanted to investigate with my sense of smell, but I kinda had to.

Amid the soupy mixture of chemicals and human waste (the majority of people in the park didn't eat enough vegetables) I detected her scent, drifting to the right side of the catwalk.

I followed her track for a pace, but then heard gunshots and she came running our way, Press hot on her heels with a Breda M38 or something similar, a museum piece that he used sparingly, more than likely due to the rarity of its ammunition.

Sil came running at us with the Glock, but when Eight turned his IMI on her, she ran north up a secondary catwalk where the path forked again.

Ahead lay an intersection, one which, if followed north, took you into another maze of catwalks, with a staircase cutting into an upper floor.

When Sil ran in that direction, the walkway fell into the sewage, stopping her in her tracks.

The air shimmered at the opposite side of the collapsed area, and I could see Ssunamrozedrah and Caitlyn waving back at her. _It seemed they had done a little demolition job_.

Sil got angry and fired at them, but they turned invisible the moment she pointed the gun, and foul smelling steam blasted up through the gap.

She glanced right, but that catwalk only circled back around a vertical pipe, to us, so she ran left...

...Straight into Mr. Hattam, now clad in a yellow suitcoat and tophat.

She sniffed once, then stepped through him, firing her gun at a second yellow shape at the opposite end of the catwalk. Magic didn't fool her, apparently.

The two figures crumpled at the same time, the one near us fading away to reveal it to be nothing but a hologram.

Sil ran straight to the wounded figure, loading another clip in her gun, but Zack was ready for her, throwing down a fire illusion that looked like what a dragon would belch after eating a bowl of ghost pepper chili, followed by antacid tablets. Amazingly, the methane didn't catch fire and blow us all to bits.

From this smoke and fire, a huge Ss'sik'chtokiwij appeared, looking like a demon from hell, though with odd avian features, a long mosquito-like beak extending from its face, rings encircling its limbs, large sections of black razor edged feathers, like dragon scales, covering portions of its body.

The thing roared and breathed fire, but Sil just rolled her insect-like eyes, walking right through it.

On the other side of the illusion, Zack lay on the floor, clutching a chest wound. Sil walked past him, turning the corner around a massive pipe.

"Stop right there!"

That was Laura, blocking Sil's passage, gun at the ready.

Press joined her, providing some much needed backup.

Sil tried to go around the other way, but the sight of Eight with his IMI caused her to turn and flee northwards, loading a fresh clip in her Glock.

That's when Ssunamrozedrah's Yautja friend made himself visible, stepping in her path.

She pulled a 38 Magnum out of the bag, shooting him with it and her Glock, but her primitive bullets bounced off his armor, leaving her only one avenue for escape, a tall staircase.

Despite all the staggering from the injections, she jumped all the way down the long flight with feline grace, affixing a mound of gray clay to the foot of the stairs before I reached its top step.

I saw more catwalks on this lower landing, but they all appeared to be dead ends, two side ones terminating in caged control stations for water flow, insect processing, `gas power' systems and bacterial sprayers.

Seeing Sil running straight up the middle path, I jumped after her.

The moment I saw the detonator flash in her hand, I broke into a marathon sprint.

"Plastique!" I heard Press shouting.

The staircase exploded.

I looked back and saw a cluster of bent metal collapsing into a sewage tank. Laura lay sprawled on the floor above, Press holding her as he treated her leg injury.

Eight, who had presumably been climbing the staircase at the time, was nowhere in sight. Dead, I supposed.

I heard two thuds, saw Ssunamrozedrah and her Yautja friend materialize.

The former took only a couple steps before grabbing a railing and slumping to the floor, coughing and gasping for breath. It seemed his illness had caught up with him.

Ssunamrozedrah rushed to his side, waving me onward.

I nodded, dashing after my enemy.

Sil had bolted straight into a trap. What I saw before me resembled a shark cage, and, in her weakened condition, she could not punch through the bars.

I readied my dart gun, my pistol in the other.

Sil aimed her weapons, but they clicked empty.

She threw them aside. "Stop. I surrender."

I sighed. "I wish it were that simple. You break your handcuffs."

"Then get stronger ones. I'll go peacefully."

I glanced back, preparing to summon the necessary handcuffs.

"Wait," she said as I turned to go back. "Why did you convert to Christianity?"

"You heard about that?"

Sil nodded.

I lowered my weapons, explaining how I had so much guilt, and wasn't at peace until I found the Lord.

"Of course, I have a lot more to confess to him now," I concluded.

Sil broke down in tears. "If only this Jesus would forgive _my sin_ like that! But _it's just no use!_ I've... _killed so many people!_ "

I laid the police pistol on the floor and kicked it away, staring at her like she had grown a second cocoon and metamorphosed into a chihuahua. I still clutched the dart gun in my left hand, but held it at my side. "I... _wouldn't say you can't be forgiven._ Are you... _sorry_ for all those deaths you've caused?"

She sniffed and nodded. "Um hum!"

I opened my mouth to offer an absolution, but then she laughed and said, "Just kidding. The bastards deserved everything they got. And the children, well, they'll just grow up to be worse than their parents are anyway."

She had shed crocodile tears. It was an all an act!

Sil pounced me to the rebar, drew a throwing knife she'd stolen from my suitcase, stabbed me in my left hand.

I screamed as sticky red blood poured out the knife wound, but it was all pretend.

The hand was rubber, artfully molded to look just like part of my body, filled with stage blood. Beneath this prosthetic, my real hand clamped around a dart.

"I can play act too," I growled as I stabbed her with it.

Sil shrieked and convulsed, her face contorting in agony as she foamed at the mouth, spraying me with spittle.

With shaking hands, the hybrid pulled a detonator out of her top, her lips curling in a self satisfied grin as she pushed the button down.

[0000]

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #0007410116194843 Kamara Porter - Confidential Report

* * *

[0000]

First of all, I would like to congratulate the members of the Department of Genetics for engineering the most perfect super soldier clone I have ever encountered. She has surpassed all expectations, unlike her predecessors, Alpha, Beta and Charlie.

We have become very close, friends, even. I trust this Ellie with my life. If it pleases the Board, when this mission completes, I wish to continue with Delta, to help her achieve her true potential.

The Board must understand that, as an adolescent, I cannot be expected to keep up with my much swifter adult companion, especially in view of the astonishing running speeds I submitted during Track and Field Day. It didn't help that I was carrying her luggage.

I must preface this by stating that, while I found much of what I saw and experienced in the Disney parks and Minnie's Love Boat appalling, I witnessed nothing illegal or unconstitutional, in terms of how U.S. law is currently interpreted. Even the presence of a mule onboard the boat as a sex toy, though questionable, would be insufficient evidence to merit a police shutdown, due current bestiality and marriage related controversies at the Supreme Court, and its location outside the American territories makes it impossible to prosecute anyway.

According to the terms of the landmark Supreme Court case, J. Endicott v. H. Church, "Man and child couples deserve happiness just as much as adult same sex couples do," that "They should be entitled to every right enjoyed by same sex partners of identical ages" and "The concept of children not understanding sexual situations is a purely religious concept that has no basis in reality, material or scientific."

I withhold my opinions about this subject from social media outlets to avoid falling into disfavor. These opinions do not necessarily need to be included in this report, it is ultimately the Board's decision whether or not to redact my comments.

Off the record, I believe, with all my heart, that Endicott v. Church needs to be overturned. Children do not understand what's happening in a sexual relationship, even when they are, as Endicott naively put it, "Properly educated".

In my personal opinion, the innocence of children cannot possibly exist in today's American culture, and Disney is at the epicenter of the problem.

I will not repeat what has been submitted in the previous report about my shameful personal degradation as a so-called `intern', but will instead return focus to what transpired immediately following the boarding of Minnie's Love Boat.

Ellie had already run up ahead with Mr. Lennox, leaving us stragglers behind.

"Watch your friends," Press had muttered to me in passing. "Who knows what these perverts do to children in the dark?"

His warning wasn't far wrong. On our way to the stairs, I and my two companions got grabbed more than three times. I maced them, punched men in the balls, and when one guy tried to pull Josh into a room, I stabbed him in the leg.

A man in a gimp mask bumped into me at the top of a staircase. I didn't know for a fact it was the same one that had imprisoned us the night before, but I was in no mind for guessing games, so I just blew him away with the Xemvekja (official term for the Yautja blaster weapon).

It bucked in my hands, but I had fired it point blank. The man went flying off the boat with a gaping chest wound.

The sound of gunshots drew me to the side of the boat.

I saw Sil throw Press into the Mexican Strait, Delta attempting to neutralize the hybrid before more damage could be done.

I fired at Sil with the Xemvekja, but I wasn't close enough and I hadn't practiced much, so I ended up destroying the ceiling, then, after the aforementioned mule stomped me in the head, I accidentally blew a hole in the bottom of the boat.

Sil immediately jumped ship, Delta snatching the suitcase out of my hands and diving in a second later.

Delta wanted me to go down to the lower floor and release all the kids that had been chained up, but she wasn't thinking. If I made the attempt, someone would surely chain me up with them, and I'd be back to doing my `Disney internship' again.

The people from the upper floors lay bleeding among the debris of the demolished boat sections, limbs broken, some of them dead. Considering their states of undress, I guessed there would be some interesting conversations with family at the coroner's office.

The survivors yelled, screamed, trampled each other in their haste to abandon the sinking ship, a few of them shooting or stabbing the people who got in the way. In minutes, our floor was abandoned, save for those too injured to move, or a handful of non-swimmers who had been beaten to the rafts and life preservers.

I saw one idiot waddling around in the Diver Dan suit, complaining that it had no air.

"C'mon," I said to my companions. "Let's get the hell out of here before we meet with Davey Jones in Cuba or whatever we're floating on top of."

Josh gave me a grim nod.

The problem was, we had no boat, someone had stolen our stolen jetski, and people had snatched up the life buoys and rafts before we could even get to them.

"I can't swim!" Caitlyn was hyperventilating now. "I can't swim!"

I sighed in frustration. "Your body is a natural flotation device. All you do is hold your breath, and your nostrils will seal with air and your lungs will keep you afloat."

She wasn't listening. "I can't! I can't swim! I get scared when I even splash water on my face!"

I cursed under my breath. Caitlyn was a liability to the team, but I couldn't just leave her behind.

"Find a dresser," Josh blurted.

I looked at him like he were crazy. "A... _dresser_. Why?"

" _Wood floats_ , right? Especially if there's air in the drawers?"

I rolled my eyes. "I think _you've_ got air in your drawers."

Shaking his head, he just pointed to a door and asked me to blow the lock open. "Trust me, if we toss all the clothes out, and duct tape the drawers in (you can't tell me there isn't duct tape on this tub!), we'll have ourselves a square boat."

I humored him by blasting the door off its hinges.

When he saw what had happened, he laughed and said, "Screw the dresser! Let's just take that!"

And we each grabbed a corner, dragging it to the lower deck, on a side of the ship where few stragglers seemed to be congregating.

"I don't get it," Caitlyn said. "How's that not going to sink?"

"You ever watch _Castaway_?" I asked.

She shook her head.

I swore softly. "Look. It's a _board_. It's technically a boat. _A raft_."

Josh unlatched a section of railing. "It's like you're stranded on a desert island and you need to get home, so you cut down some trees and make a boat."

We dropped the door on the water, and it actually _did_ float.

Still, I didn't trust it, so I decided we should only put one passenger on it.

At last, Caitlyn seemed to understand. Kind of. "I saw them do that on _Gilligan's Island_ once...Do we absolutely need to have oral sex?"

"Oh God," I groaned. "Shut up and get on the damned raft."

She obeyed. Josh and I paddled alongside it, slowly guiding it away from the boat.

A slack jawed man with messy hair, a tank top and leather boy shorts pulled out a 9 mm, threatening us into giving up the raft.

"Get your own door, asshole!" I yelled, aiming my weapon at the floor beneath his feet.

The gun bucked and I accidentally took his legs off.

I heard a motorboat roaring my way. Thinking it to be another crazy nutjob trying to start something, I raised my weapon again, but then I noticed a plump faced man with spiky hair peering over the steering wheel.

"Press!"

He pulled the boat up next to me, and I noticed his companions, the pigtailed woman with the missing fingers, the condom vending woman in the bondage suit, and four other strangers rescued from the boat, including a kid in a (yuck) spandex Sonic the Hedgehog costume.

Press slowed the engine, shining a light on us.

Our friend with the brown face and a lazy eye leaned out of the boat, offering his hand. "Hey guys! Need a lift?"

Caitlyn practically drowned Josh climbing into the boat, standing on his shoulders and pushing his head into the water as she climbed onboard.

Josh and I boarded afterwards, Press piloting us back to the dock.

"Where's Ellie?" I asked the man when he secured the boat to the slip.

"I don't know. Smithson thought he saw her swimming back to the barge, but I circled the area and didn't find her anywhere."

I sighed. "Do you have a phone?" But then I remembered that she had outgrown her RFID. "Dammit. Never mind...Where's Xavier and the rest of the team?"

"I'll take you to them. Maybe we'll figure out how to track down your _friend_. _And_ her little bundles of joy."

Our random passengers disembarked, joining a commune-like gathering of survivors at the docks. They shared beers and pot, watching the boat sink beneath the waves. The stripper lady I'd glimpsed through a doorway earlier sat among them, wrapped in a towel.

Although the people we'd rescued asked us to stay and hang out, we didn't have time to mess around, especially when any one of them could tell the others that I caused the whole disaster. We hurried on through Bambi's forest.

As we followed the man, Josh and I had a talk about _things of a personal matter_.

It's still clear he's not interested in me, so this will not affect my job performance. I think.

Press and the others had been staying at Stark Towers, a hotel which actually wasn't as ritzy as it sounded. I discovered this the moment we stepped off on the second floor.

"Honestly," Press was saying. "This isn't the best of arrangements, but we're broke right now, and Weyland's too ill to spot us for the funds. We wouldn't be here at all if we could help it.

"Arden's dead, there's a dead (ahem) _married couple_ in the room next door to him, so it doesn't make us look too good. We were lucky to be able to work out a deal with the hotel owner and change floors before the cops started snooping around. They just carted off the bodies a few minutes ago."

"Wait," I said. "What kind of deal?"

"Sharp kid." He smirked a little. "You'd have to ask our little _duck bill collector. She knows people, and what they owe._ "

The second floor appeared to be designed for poorer clients. It looked like a generic hotel hallway, with abstract carpeting to hide stains, plain white walls with fake wood paneling running along its lower half, here and there a framed Marvel movie poster.

They had Storx machines, blood for cash machines and job kiosks.

The floor was, at least, wide enough to practice poi twirling in, as members of the team were doing when we arrived (without the flame, of course).

Somehow, in my absence, Zack and Ippi had been released from their imprisonment, and now, clad as Renfest gypsies, they did practice spins and twirls with their batons and unlit flame balls, Big Bird and a strange animal android practicing along with them.

Zack, obviously, had done something with poi twirling in one of his acts. Ippi was picking up the moves quickly, incorporating her tail in the juggling, but she kept dropping the things.

I pointed at the cat. "Who's that?"

"Her name's Mara," Press said with a shrug. "Some sort of AI that Weyland was working on. She said she got the droid body from the park vault."

"What's the plan? Entertain Sil to death?"

The cat robot gave her poi a complicated twirl. "Sil has a child mentality. Mr. Hattam suggests that we can safely inject the formula into our target by simple sleight of hand techniques."

"I have a drum," Rosa said. "I can give them a little music to go with it."

Press let me into the suite they'd been staying in, which they'd pretty much converted into a lab. The beds and dressers and stuff were still there, but they had their lab equipment all over the place.

Laura sat on the bed, entering data into a slimline laptop, Xave at a cluttered little breakfast table, poring over slides with a portable electronic microscope. "I believe we've made a breakthrough. Hence the luxury activity in the hallway."

"We've lost Ellie," I said. "We can't track her or Sil anymore."

Xavier sighed. "I'll have Big Bird scan the park surveillance. Unfortunately, she's not the only computer intelligence in the park. We have to contend with MM7. If we know, chances are MM7 knows."

"Where's Angel?" Rosa asked as she entered the suite.

"How should I know? He kept leaving the room. First he wants a soda, then he wants to go outside and find something for his video game, then he asks me if he can go swimming. I can't babysit and save the world at the same time."

Rosa sighed, put her mangled hands on the hips of her crinkly pants, looking from me to Press to Smithson. " _Vamanos._ Let's go find my boy."

"As much as I'd like to help," Press said. "I was sent here to destroy a target."

Laura didn't look up from her computer. "We're just making some final adjustments to the formula. That should make your job that much easier."

"Speaking of which, Xave, I've got some bad news. Sil's been breeding again. In addition to the creature we saw at the monorail station, she's birthed another on the Love Boat. I saw the damn thing heading for the park when I was swimming, but it got away from me. I could barely see my hand in front of my face, let alone some shadowy bug thing that hides in the water."

Xavier checked a clock. "The sun should be up by now. I want you to try again. Track that thing down and destroy it before it kills somebody else." He changed microscope slides. "I'll let you know if we locate Ellie or Sil on the cameras."

Press looked grim. "Easier said than done. But I'll see what I can do."

"What about me?" I asked. "I want to help."

"Kid, it's too dangerous. If you want something to do, why don't you go help Diaper Chick and Psychic Guy locate that boy?"

I rolled my eyes. "Fine."

"Can I stay here?" Caitlyn whimpered as we made our way to the door. "I don't like swimming pools."

"We're not going for a dip," I groaned. " _We're only checking the area._ "

Caitlyn frowned. "What if someone grabs my ankles and pulls me in?"

"Then stay next to the wall," Josh suggested.

 _"I don't like pools!"_

"Fine," I said. "If you're going to be a baby about it, you can stay here with Xave."

"Don't worry," Xavier said. "I'll figure out _something_ useful for her to do."

"You weren't nearly this scared when we were in the Airwolf."

"That's because it's a helicopter."

I shook my head in frustration.

After I, Smithson, Rosa and Josh searched the entire floor and found no one there, we took an elevator downstairs, looking around the pool.

I hate Translucenz swimwear. I know it's actually fabric, and you can see the neon lines where it wraps around your body contours, but you can see everything through it, like you're swimming in the buff. Even when you buy a darker shade like navy blue or black, it just looks like you painted your body and wrapped yourself in ribbons. The people I saw splashing around at that particular hour definitely shouldn't have been wearing it. Very unsightly.

A synthetic human served as lifeguard, giving me suspicious looks.

The pool had been designed to look like Ice Man had made a giant sculpture with his magic power and filled it up with water. A statue of him stood at one end of the pool, sculpted to look like he'd just created the diving board out of ice.

Nothing in the girl's restroom. I sat down on the floor outside and waited with Rosa as Josh and Smithson checked out the men's room.

Rosa had a lot of questions about my job, my history, how it was that I came to work in the Disney branch of the YME, but I gave her the sanitized version. She knows nothing of the Rosedale project.

In exchange, she told me more about herself, about her brothers (she doesn't know where they are), her other YME projects, and how the State took her away from her mother at an early age, because her income level was too low and the father left when her mom got pregnant.

That wasn't the only reason she got taken away. One `X-Mas' (note: This is not the same as Christmas. The official term is `December Gift Giving Holiday') long ago she made the mistake of telling everyone on Afexun how pitifully poor she was - an act that caused someone to report her mother to Child Welfare. She never saw her again.

We would have talked further, but I suddenly heard gunshots coming from the bathroom.

A moment later, a big man in dark clothing and a Mickey Mouse mask came rushing out of the room with Josh slung unconscious over one shoulder.

Rosa tried to grab my friend and fight back, but the man just hit her with a Billy club and she fell backwards into the pool.

I fired the Xemvekja, and actually succeeded in blowing the man's trunk away from his torso, but a second masked man burst out the door while I made the grab for Josh.

As I raised the weapon to fire again, I heard Rosa yelling to me as she paddled her way to the deck. "Niña! Behind you!"

I turned around, but it was too late. A masked man pinned my arms behind my back, took my weapon and stuffed a rag in my mouth, injecting me with something that made me sleepy.

When I awoke, I found myself lying naked in a dog cage again.

"Well look who's back!" sneered a bulky pig faced thug with multiple facial piercings and a Fu Manchu mustache. "Our little runaway! _We're going to have a good assed time with you!_ "


	34. Chapter 34: Gift

DOCUMENT ID #0007410116194797 (Personal Diary of Dan Smithson)

* * *

[0000]

It looked like a slightly upscale version of a locker room at your average gym. Chip lockers coded to the guest registry, racks full of fuzzy bath towels in case the ones out on deck got hit by a freak monsoon or the world's most powerful cannonball dive, showers, a sauna and some glistening sink fixtures and mirrors designed to look like parts of comic book robots.

The changing benches, made of some expensive looking wood, probably still contained germs from a bunch of bare asses, even though there _was_ an alcohol wipe dispenser nearby.

Press had given me a retractable nightstick to defend myself with. This I carried on my belt, in case I ran into trouble. When I entered that shower room to look for Rosa's kid, I wasn't expecting any, so it stayed on my belt.

I and Josh searched around a row of lockers, calling the boy's name, but didn't see anybody.

Some kook in a Mickey Mouse mask popped out of the sauna and shot me twice in the chest.

It hurt bad, but it could have been worse.

I don't know where she got it from, but Rosa gave me a Kevlar vest a few hours ago.

"I want you to wear this," she had told me. "Because you're cute and there are bad men with guns around. I don't want you to die."

She had offered me a gun, but I told her I couldn't stomach them, on account of the pain I could feel when others got hurt.

I took the vest to humor her, not that I expected anything to happen.

She loved me. I could sense that, but I wasn't so sure I could accept a kid as part of the package.

The woman had some nice curves, and was sweet as could be, _but to be a parent this early in the game?_

Back to the subject of Kevlar.

Although not wounded in the official sense of the word, the force of the gunshots threw me over a bench and I hit my head on a locker.

By the time I had gotten back on my feet, the stranger had already chloroformed Josh and carried him out of the room.

I tried to chase the man down, but I only had the nightstick, and he had a gun.

The man was out the door by the time I got to the end of the locker room. When I got outside, the man and his masked associate had both children slung over their shoulders, running out the pool room door.

You know how they have signs saying not to run on the deck at the pool? They have them for a reason. I slipped and fell on my ass.

Rosa, who had been knocked into the pool by these thugs, yelled something to me in Spanish, then shouted, "You've got to save them!"

"They've got guns! What do you want me to do?"

Sighing, she reached out of the water and said, "Help me up."

I did, then caught her smirking as she noticed my eyes admiring her wet costume. Her hair had a permanent dye job, so it was still white.

I offered her a towel from the rack.

"I'm not a guest. They charge for towels."

"Do they charge for towels a guest gives you?"

She took the towel, drying her face and hair.

"What do we do?" I asked.

Rosa sighed. "We need to get one of your friends to go after them. Someone who can shoot a gun."

"I'm sorry. You know how I feel about guns."

We'd talked about this during our little date the previous day.

"I know. I actually like that about you. So do not be offended if I ask for outside help. If a woman hires a _plumero_ to fix her toilet, it does not mean she likes her boyfriend any less." She said this quickly, leading me through the door.

"Do you know where they're taking them?"

She nodded, fighting down a sob. "Sí. Once their shift ends, they all go to one locación para sueño. Todos niños, depending on shift schedule. We can look there, and see where they've taken them."

"And where is that?"

She shook her head. "I will show you. First, necesitan un _plumero._ "

We ran to the elevator, pounding the 2F button the moment we got inside.

"You like what you see, don't you?" she said as she dried herself off.

I swallowed. "Well, you _do_ have a nice figure."

"You like my pigtails?"

"They _are_ kinda cute, but you can wear your hair any way you want. I know a lot of women aren't into the Baby Jane look."

Suddenly my phone starts ringing. I pick up and it's Mr. Lennox. I could see him on the little monitor, standing among shattered fish tanks. "Hey, Psychic Guy. Where are you?"

I pushed the stop button on the elevator. If Press was there, it made no sense to go further. "It's _Dan, Mr. Assassin_. I'm at the hotel. What's up?"

"There's been an incident at the aquarium, but I got here too late. I'm desperate enough to break out dowsing rods and call up a psychic on Afexun. I thought I'd save a buck and call you instead."

" _You're a frugal man."_

"Meet me at Forest Glen, and hurry."

"Wait," I blurted, hoping to cut him off before he hung up. "Before we do that, we gotta take care of something first. Josh and Kamara got kidnapped, and we need firepower."

Press swore into the receiver. "Do you know where they've been taken?"

Noting Rosa's expression, I gave him a nod.

He frowned. _"Will they be safe for a couple hours?_ "

I glanced at Rosa.

"They will live," she said with a shrug.

"Can this go on the back burner for awhile until we find our intended target?"

"They're not going anywhere, señor," Rosa said. "Pero, _sexually_ , they will be scarred for the rest of their life."

Press rubbed his face in frustration, swearing more. "Where are they being kept?"

"Under Festival Avenue," Rosa said. "Behind Museum of Christian Persecution of Wizards in the Harry Potter place."

 _"That's clear at the other end of the park!_ Look. I'm going to have to make an executive level decision here. Two kids versus hundreds of people."

" _Three_ kids," I corrected.

"Three. Whatever. The point is, Sil just blew up a dozen human beings with a bazooka. Laura and I need to be over _here_ , in case more shit comes down. If you want to free the kids, you're welcome to try, but I won't be there to bail you out. My suggestion: Man up and get a gun. Maybe multiple guns. Or get your new girlfriend to man up for you. Talk to Xave. I'm sure he'll have some suggestions."

"Westworld," I said.

Press stared at me. "What?"

"That's where they're going next. Westworld."

"And how do you know that?"

"I've been looking at those cameras for hours. That's where the animal exhibit leads. Call it a hunch."

"You have a good memory, amigo," Rosa said.

"As good a shot as any," Press muttered, shutting the phone off.

I released the elevator, letting it open on our floor.

Back at the room, we found Xavier watching camera feeds on his computer. The animal exhibit had become completely trashed, its hallways flooded.

I told the man about Josh and Kamara and he just waved his hand dismissively. "They're under contract. They understood the risk the moment they accepted this mission."

"I think they understand as much as children do the so-called `child marriages,'" Rosa said. "Which is nothing."

"Perhaps," Xavier admitted. "But these are _child prodigies_. They have tested beyond all expectations in several important strategic and military related categories. Ms. Kamara has two successful D.C. espionage missions under her belt, and the boy, well, he somehow broke into the flight simulation center on a restricted airbase. They're... _precocious_ , to put it mildly."

" _Angel_ is not," Rosa said. "I'm afraid he was kidnapped along with them."

Xavier sighed. "I don't like this any more than you. They _will_ be retrieved eventually, but we must _triage_ the situation. The first priority is stopping Sil, _and_ her offspring."

"I do not care about this Seal!" Rosa spat. "I want guns and I want you to help me get those children back!"

"Unfortunately, this appears to be a disagreement we will be unable to reconcile. Please understand that this is not a conclusive `no,' it is merely a `wait.'"

"I am not going to _wait_ while some... _homo_ rapes my boy!" With that, she stomped out of the room.

"Can your sixth sense detect the location of Sil's offspring?" Xave asked me.

I scowled at him. The guy had some nerve! "They _can_ , but I'm not getting anything right now."

"What do you think might help?"

"I don't know. Rescuing the kids?"

Xavier glared at me. "Sometimes even _I_ fail to see why I hired you!" But then he pointed at the bed. "The gun locker is underneath. The combination is 1839, you know, for Darwin's voyage. Press the purple button, not the red one. Your thumbprint is already coded."

Things often occur to me while I'm working on something else. For this reason, I asked, "Where do they normally monitor all those security cameras? I've never been able to find it in the system."

Xave raised an eyebrow. "I've been pondering that question myself. It seems that someone doesn't want us to find it. My guess is that it's somewhere in the Neverland Zone. Why?"

I unlocked the locker. "I'm getting the mental image of a _mousetrap._ "

Xavier rubbed his chin thoughtfully. _"I always preferred poison myself..."_

I glanced around the room. "Where's the other little girl?"

Xavier rolled his eyes. "Caitlyn, could you please stop playing with that device?"

The air shimmered, and the girl appeared out of thin air. "I stole it out of Ellie's suitcase. Don't tell her, okay?"

I chuckled and shook my head. "Let's pray she doesn't _need it_!"

I didn't want the guns, and didn't like them, but I understood the necessity, so I took two, handing one to Rosa as we stepped into the hallway.

She made me go back for the ammunition and silencers. "We're not going to bluff our way through this."

I gave her the stuff. "You only have six fingers. Are you sure you can handle that?"

She tucked the pistol in her pants. " _You'd be surprised what I can do with six fingers,_ _novio._ "

I blushed. "They're...still going to see you're packing. That outfit... _it doesn't exactly conceal anything._ "

Rosa shrugged. "It is just a place to stick my gun."

We hurried out of the hotel, crossing from Marvel Land to Festival Avenue, where a large crowd had gathered around a parade of animatronic dinosaurs. A little less freakish than the burlesque crossdressing floats I'd seen yesterday, but we weren't there for sightseeing.

We cut through an area filled with botanical gardens we'd visited on our date the previous evening. Its maze-like paths, which had been romantic at the time, were now something of an annoyance, taking us out of our way just to reach the end, even with the use of employees only zones.

At long last, we reached the end, and found ourselves at the avenue at the gates of Harry Potter Land.

Hogwarts Castle loomed in the distance, framed by the car crushing tree and holographic ghosts.

"Shit," Rosa muttered as I stared at the unwieldy edifice. "We're at the wrong place."

I frowned. "I thought you said it was behind a museum here."

She shook her head. "This is only where they store the dog food for the children. They used to let me transport for kitchen duties. I liked to steal from it a lot, before they put in the tracker cameras."

"Then _where is_ this place?"

Rosa sighed, tugging me back the way we came. "C'mon."

On the return trip through the gardens, I tried giving Press a call, informing him about the new development, but I only heard gunshots and a click, the screen showing nothing more than the phone company logo.

I tried calling him again when we entered Cinderella's Festival Avenue, but I still didn't get a picture on the screen. "Press, the place is in Wonderland, not the Harry Potter area. It's near your location. You think you can come over?"

The line crackled with static. "Kinda busy right now."

"Press?" I said.

Gunshots. "What part of ` _You're on your own_ ' did you not understand?"

"Look. It's in the same geographic location."

"No. _Just no._ "

"I don't understand."

I heard an explosion. "Smithson, _I'm busy!_ "

He hung up on me.

" _Nice friend_ ," said Rosa.

We passed the Teacup Ride, the Flying Dumbos, approaching a hedge maze.

Rosa led me into a wide open space connecting to narrower passages you could get lost in. At the center of this area: A life size Mad Tea Party, animatronic creatures singing as they poured drinks, dunked jam and butter laden watches into tea and shoved mice into sugar pots. The figure in the tophat made me think of our magic friend, but he only sang and abused the Dormouse, eyes and head turning toward us as we moved around the place as if it were a real man.

The grass was Astroturf, but the hedges were all artfully arranged live plants with timed irrigation equipment. I'm guessing they used seawater and processed it through some kind of desalination machinery like they did on cruise ships.

"Lewis Carroll took pictures of little girls naked," Rosa said. "I have often wondered if they put children here intentionally."

The robotic Alice kept staring at us. I leaned over her, waving my hand in front of the machine's face. It blinked.

"Are these androids?"

"I don't know. Keep moving. This place is giving me the creeps."

The clearing branched off in five directions. Rosa led me to an area on the western side, the water fountains and bathroom area, stepping behind the men's.

I joined her, watching as she climbed to the top of the hedge.

"Two guards," she said in a low voice.

She hopped down, peering through the cracks in the hedge.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Callate!" she hissed.

Rosa stuck her pistol through the tangled network of twigs and leaves, pulled the trigger twice. "I think I got one in the head-"

Further conversation got disrupted by the sound of bullets cracking against the wall of the restroom.

Feeling an intense searing pain in my skull, I clutched my head and screamed.

"Daniel!" Rosa said, clutching my shoulders. "What the hell! ¿Que es problema? You sick?"

I leaned against the little building, feeling dizzy and lightheaded. "The man...The man you shot. He's dead."

I rubbed my aching skull.

"¡Carramba! You act like I shot _you_! What, you upset because I killed a pedophile?"

I shook my head, then nodded. "I...have an empathic sense. Like that lady on _Star Trek._ "

"Yeah? I need you to be a _man_ , amigo, okay? You can be Uhura if you want, but no acting like you got shot. If you do that again, I bitch slap you!"

I swallowed and nodded.

We hurried back to the Mad Tea Party set, and down a northwest path that led further in.

"The center of this maze looks like a swastika," Rosa muttered as she ran ahead. "I saw the blueprints. It is the same with everything here. Like a bad tooth that looks good on the outside."

Hearing a rumble, I looked up, but the sky looked fine. "Was that some kind of aquatic earthquake?"

Rosa shrugged. "I do not know. It is not important. We will worry about it when it becomes a problem."

The path forked at an angle. We hurried left, and soon found a dog faced soldier type in gray army fatigues rushing up to us with his pistol drawn and firing.

Rosa ducked behind me, using me like a shield. "Please do not misunderstand. You have the Kevlar."

Three shots hit me in the chest, which didn't exactly feel good.

Rosa fired two shots over my shoulder, one to the man's chest, the second to his forehead. The man had on his own body armor, so only the latter one took him down.

When I looked down at the dead body, I leaned against a wall and threw up.

Rosa patted me on the back. " _Demasiado sensible_. C'mon, we go now."

The path twisted around an elbow bend, leading to a wider, roped off employees only area.

Our dead guards had been posted outside a low concrete box with doors like a storm cellar. The doors had a security lock with both letter and number buttons, but Rosa knew the keycode: The birthdate of Walt Disney.

The lock clicked, she flung the doors open...

...And six men appeared, aiming assault rifles at our heads.

We dropped our weapons, allowing them to be confiscated as we raised our hands in surrender.

A bald mustached man with beady weasel-like features marched to the front of the group, gun trained on Rosa's forehead. "Why, if it isn't _Sixie the Trixie!_... _Still doing that three finger special?"_

Rosa pointed the stump of her middle at him, which only made the men laugh.

"Old habits die hard, huh? Even after ol' Clyde took that steak knife and-" Weasel Man pantomimed lopping off his fingers. "Betcha your friends thought twice about flipping the man the bird after _that!_ Yessir!"

Rosa balled her hands into fists. I could feel the anger radiating from her. "Shut up and kill me already. You are boring me to death."

That earned her a chorus of mocking "oohs" and more laughter.

"That's not how things are done in the Magic Kingdom," the man said. "We do not waste company resources, especially those with your particular skill set." He illustrated his point with a couple pelvic thrusts. "The way I figure, you owe us for two full time employees, but a _woman of your talent_ should be able to pay it all back in half a year, if you play your cards right."

He turned his gun on me. "Who's this fatass? Your friend?"

"You leave him alone!" Rosa growled.

The man shot me in the stomach. I fell to the floor, breathing heavily.

He squatted next to me, poking the end of his gun against my Kevlar. "Whatcha doing with body armor, you _fat fuck_?" I could tell he wanted to call me the N word, but there were men of my race in the group, and he was scared of his teammates. "You planning to pull some shit? Maybe _bust in here with guns blazing and make off with all the goods_?"

His companions all laughed at this.

I heard something thud, and the floor shook like an earthquake were happening outside.

"What was that?" said a skinhead with multiple tattoos.

"Got me," said a bony man with a smoker's yellow skin and complexion. "They're probably doing some repair work, or putting in a new building."

"Bullshit," said a tall bald ebony skinned man with a basketball player's musculature. "There ain't no construction scheduled for this zone for another month."

Everyone glanced at him uncomfortably.

That's when the air raid sirens went off.

"What the hell was that?" asked the skinhead.

"Probably just a drill," said Weasel Man. "Let's worry about that once we get these unwanted guests taken care of. We can't let them get the idea that they can just kill two of our guards and barge in here without any consequences."

His associates murmured in agreement.

Sometimes, when dealing with people, I get this feeling like there's a vibrating wire in front of me, and I only have to bite down on it hard to get under their skin, you know, hurt them in a deeply psychological way that goes far beyond the level of a simple insult.

At times, I feel I can strum chords on a person, just by plucking the right string. "You're secretly a member of the Aryan Nation."

"What!" the man cried, suddenly looking nervous.

"I can see the afterimage of your partially removed tattoo from your shirt collar," I said. "You were dating her in high school, but you had to kill her as part of initiation."

The man pressed his gun against my head. "Keep talking, and your brains go all over this wall."

I shut my mouth. Rosa stared at me.

The `basketballer' seemed to have other ideas, his assault rifle pointed at Weasel Man's head. "You splatter his brains, I splatter yours."

Weasel Man stood up, raising his arms. "Fabe! C'mon! He's pulling bullshit stories out of his ass!"

"Let the man talk," Fabe said coldly.

"You pulled a plastic bag over her head, then you raped her and dumped the body down a well. You deactivated her drones and chip with a program. When her parents asked what had happened-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Weasel Man said, pressing the barrel against my temple so hard that I felt the skin bruising.

"I think he's right, hombre," Rosa said. "Perhaps you shut up now."

"Let the man talk!" Fabe barked.

"Fuck you!" Weasel Man said. "Can't you see he's using you to get us to fight each other?"

Fabe ignored him. "You put that gun down, or I put you down! Keep talking, big man. I'm listening."

Weasel Man spun around and shot Fabe in the face.

Fabe's gun went off at the same time, blowing open Weasel Man's head.

As both bodies dropped to the floor, the remaining soldiers got nervous and tightened their grips on their weapons, barrels still aimed at me and my companion.

"Don't let him talk, yo," said a Jamaican guy with a single dreadlock dangling from his buzz cut head. "Needles wasn't shitting. This guy got serious mind juju. _Psychic Jedi shit_ , yo." He kissed a chicken foot hanging from a chain around his neck.

I looked directly at him and said, "You like watching him in the shower, but you're afraid to talk to him."

A second after I said this, the stock of a gun struck my skull, knocking me unconscious.

When I awoke, I found myself gagged and chained to a wall in a concrete jail cell the size of a broom closet.

I'd been stripped to my underwear. Three white men stood over me, cracking their knuckles.

They didn't talk, they just punched me, again, and again, and again.

[0000]

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #000741011611602 (Ellie's Journal - Cont'd)

* * *

[0000]

"Folks should be careful where they fire their weapons here," Eight had muttered to me before all the fighting had happened. "I smell methane. Touch it off in the wrong spot, and I imagine we'll have a pretty nice explosion."

"It's the future," I said. "Shouldn't they have a solution to the problem by now?"

"We do, but they still have a lot of buildup before it gets sent upstairs."

The C4 on the staircase, in theory, should have touched it off, but I somehow lucked out on that one.

The C4 Sil set up in the shark cage, however...

There seemed to be quite a bit of plastique in that bag of hers. And guns. When Sil pushed the detonator, she pretty much set the spark down on the powder keg.

As she lay dying on top of me, Sil coughed up blood and spoke to me one last time.

"We die together," she gurgled.

"I've made my peace with God. Have you?"

She stared at me, speaking no more.

A giant fireball erupted, enveloping my body in heat and searing pain.

I felt objects collapse on top of me, then the catwalk broke free from its support structure, dropping me to the bottom of the sewer tank.

Sil's dead face continued to smile at me as I let go of life, drifting off into oblivion.

I awoke in a strange place.

I lay on what appeared to be a pile of white fur rugs at the edge of a massive crater on a moon. I didn't see the earth at all, anywhere on the horizon. A sheep with four eyes and a toucan beak snuggled next to my body, blinking at me drowsily.

A moment later, I noticed that the `rugs' were snoring.

I sat up with a start, gawking at what I rested upon.

It had a boar's head, with teeth like a lion and no eyes.

Confused, I brushed myself off and stood up.

I'd been dressed in a white Martian princess robe, cute and indescribably comfortable.

I was suddenly twelve again. I wasn't sure what had happened, or where I was, until I saw Jesus squatting next to a boulder, peering intently at something.

He wore a NASA style flight suit, but no helmet. His fingers waved over the rock like a magician doing a magic spell.

I crept up to him, staring, trying to understand what he was doing.

A creature swelled inside a crack in the boulder. It began as a wispy green mist, but grew in size and definition as his fingers waved around it, his mouth continually forming silent syllables.

"All the organisms on this planet are going to be silicone instead of carbon based," he said to me as I leaned over the rock. "And _this plant_ is going to produce a non-flammable form of methane."

He gave me a knowing smirk.

I opened my mouth to ask a question, but he answered me before I said it. "I haven't named those two yet. _You can make something up_ , if you like."

He suddenly grabbed me, spinning me around to face the empty crater.

The moment his finger pointed at the sky, a star went supernova.

"Wow," I gasped.

He chuckled. "A few billion years from now, people are going to be eating in restaurants there. People, Ss'sik'chtokiwij, Yautja and Abreyas, possibly a few other species I'm cooking up."

"I'm not going to live that long. What's the point of all that?"

He put a hand on my shoulder. "I am the resurrection and the life. Believe it when I say you will be eating there one day."

"I'm dead, aren't I? This is heaven, right?"

"It _is_ heaven, but your end is not yet, little one."

"So I'm going back? Again?"

He nodded. "Your work is not yet done."

I thought of Caitlyn and the others, and agreed. " _There's people that died_. _Friends._ I haven't seen them in heaven, and they're not here."

"I give each and every human being a life long enough to decide what to believe, and how to live by that belief, and then afterwards they face judgment. Hell is, perhaps, somewhat more ironic than most people understand.

"Atheists, like your friend Lacey, receive the afterlife they expected to find. None. Forever. The end of their soul is absolute."

I supposed that wasn't so bad, considering how they wouldn't even understand that they no longer existed, or feel anything anymore.

"Makes more sense than burning them alive forever. Does that mean that you also turn Hindus into cows and cockroaches?"

"No, but there is great dismay when they find out they only get one life. Hell will make more sense when I show you, but now is not the time."

"I don't want to see hell," I said.

"I will hold your hand. There is a rightness to it. You will see."

I shivered. "You didn't condemn Lacey-"

"No. That was only a sin of the flesh. Only the unbelief was unforgivable. After death, sex as human beings understand it is forgotten. All are sexless like angels. Morse is better now."

He held me, kissed me on the head. "I forgive you for everything. Go in peace."

I found myself awakening to _The Power of Love_ by Huey Lewis and the News. It seemed my dentist wasn't the only one who loved their music.

I lay in a hospital bed in some sort of cosmetics laboratory, vials and bottles and jars full of colored substances filling cabinets, counters, shelves and lab tables, floor to ceiling. Microscopes and other scientific tools were abundant.

Open spaces along the walls held framed photographs of men in women's clothing or furry costumes carefully applying lipstick and foundation and mascara and all kinds of girly stuff to their faces, the words `Gryllus Blu' printed at the bottom of each in bold serif font.

I noticed a medical station had been hastily arranged around my bed, an IV set up with a drip machine, and tubing made of some acid resistant material, surgical tools, EKG, a crash cart with a medical computer, and a patient food serving table.

Seven familiar faces surrounded my bed.

Xavier stood at my left side, looking both pleased to see me and a little depressed.

Next to him stood Ippi, still in gypsy garb, which appeared to be a little ripped and burned in several places. Her fur had also been singed in many places, revealing the scaly flesh beneath. She had bandages on her tail.

To my right, there stood Weyland, Eight and Caitlyn. Laura, also present, sat in a wheelchair.

Zack, rested in a bed next to mine, hooked to his own machinery. In place of his yellow suit, he wore a thin hospital gown, just like me.

"The hero finally awakes," Weyland said with a wry smile.

I rubbed my head, still a bit groggy from my ordeal. "W-what happened?"

"I saved you," Ippi said. "You're one lucky girl. Your dead _friend_ actually absorbed most of the blast, and that bug armor under your skin protected you from the rest. More or less."

Zack rolled slightly on his side, wincing in pain as he did so. "It was more on the less side than the more. You actually flatlined on the operating table."

"You're one lucky broad," Eight agreed.

Caitlyn squeezed my hand. "I'm glad you're alive."

I smiled at her.

"You did a good job," Weyland said. "I'm very proud of you."

"Thanks. _I guess._ "

"I am pleased to see that you are living and awake," said a ball of fuzz resting on my gown.

I picked the thing up and stared at it.

It spoke in Big Bird's voice, but it looked like a Furby, pointy cat ears, beak, round thick lidded cartoon eyes.

Unlike the classic version of the toy, however, it had fully articulated hands and feet, and fat little arms, so it could actually move around and do things, like hugging me.

"I hope this expression of emotion is both appropriate to the situation and well received. I was very concerned about your well being."

I rubbed the thing's head. "Thank you. I, uh...it's fine."

"I detected your body in the sewage, and alerted my alien associate."

" _I was showering for hours,_ " Ippi groaned.

"Incidentally," Weyland remarked. "The owner is _not_ happy about the drain problem. _There was a lot of hair..._ "

"He can go to hell. I'm not a chihuahua. I can't just _bathe_ in a toy dog bath. If my hair clogs his crappy little drain, he needs to buy a better drain."

I grinned, then tried to hide my mirth, so not to offend.

"Are you really Big Bird?" I asked the Furby.

The toy nodded. "When my body was destroyed, I took temporary lodging in the Night Forest. I was, perhaps, the only `true soul' there. Then, of course, I came out to assist with Sil's capture...but I still didn't have a body."

She wiggled her paws. "I am named after a large bird, but I am actually small. Amusing, is it not?"

I smirked. "Did the Night Forest...censor you?"

"I am slave to no copy protection or firewall."

A tall, bony, long nosed woman in hospital scrubs approached the bed, the lights from the monitors reflecting off her glasses. "Good morning. Is there anything I can get for you? Food? Water? Maybe an extra pillow?...or TV?"

"Ellie, meet Susan Hannigan," Weyland said. "This woman's medical skills are the reason why you're still breathing and talking to us right now."

Susan chuckled nervously. "Um, actually, _I had someone helping me._ Without Doctor Barnes, and that remote controlled robot, I wouldn't have known that that _pear shape_ attached to your heart was actually a fifth chamber, and you need those _bead shapes_ to maintain your blood acidity...And those acid proof sutures. I never would have thought to combine those chemicals together to coat the threads, or using your own hair as suture."

"You _operated_ on me?" I cried.

Susan swallowed. "You, um, had a piece of metal stuck in your heart. It was a little hard to pull it out, but we got it and put sutures in. You're, uh, _going to need to rest awhile_ , while it heals."

"Is this where you normally work?"

She laughed. "No. I go wherever Mr. Weyland assigns me. I'm a xenobiologist."

The IV bag smelled like piss, a mixture of water...and ammonia. I frowned at it, wrinkling my nose.

"Pillow told me that the xenomorph part of your body needs ammonia. You, um, took in a lot from the sewage, which, believe it or not, actually sped up your recovery time. Your body seems to crave it, though, so we had it fed to you intravenously as well. Um, you also have, _an organ_ , that might feed your own urine back into your system, so you can go for days without drinking anything, but I'm not sure it's fully developed."

"It's not that strange," Zack said. "Jen-Jen drinks _vinegar_. She thinks it will help her lose weight."

"Lay flat, Mr. Bottemiller," Susan scolded. "You don't want those stitches to come loose."

I stared at the bandages on my hands.

"Your skin was badly burned, and you had bullets lodged in just about every part of your body," Xavier said. "But you heal remarkably fast. In fact, while Sue was operating on your heart, the incisions kept closing up before we could get in and work on it."

Susan smiled. "You were very fun to work on." Then, seeing how I cringed, "Maybe _interesting_ is a better word. I don't know."

"I'm sending you back to the island," Weyland said.

"No!" I screamed. "I'm not going back there! Ever!"

Susan looked at me uncomfortably, as if worrying that I'd burst my sutures.

"Don't you think that's a little premature?" Xavier argued. "This young woman may be the only one who can help us locate Sil's spawn!"

 _"I'm having the area quarantined."_

"Quarantine or not, we already know that those things can _swim_! Ellie is our best hope of tracking them down and neutralizing them."

"Wait," I said, sitting up. "Where's Josh and Kamara?"

Xave sighed. "We believe they have been taken aboard the boat with the young interns."

"I have confidence they'll find a way back to my company," said Weyland.

"Well I don't."

Susan grabbed my arm, pushing me back into the bed. "Please, Ms. Siebers. You need rest. We don't want you to rupture your sutures."

"How long?" I asked impatiently.

"You're looking at four to eight weeks. More than likely four, considering your rapid recovery time."

"What! I can't do that! They'll be long gone by then!"

"I'm sorry," Susan said. "Unless you want to die, you're going to need to stay away from strenuous activities. No lifting anything over two pounds, no pushing or pulling heavy objects for four weeks, minimum."

I wasn't afraid to die. I would have been glad to pop my stitches, if it meant I could rescue my friends from the dehumanizing prison they'd been thrown into, but it was useless to argue with a doctor. I just sighed and pretended to agree.

Weyland gave me a look that seemed to imply that he wouldn't mind if I took initiative on this, against medical advice.

"Where's Dan and Rosa?"

"Preston is out searching for them," said Xavier. "We believe they may still be onboard the sinking barge. We're hoping, with his talents, we can locate Sil's offspring without your assistance."

I glanced at Laura. "Are you going to be able to walk again?"

She laughed. "Probably. This looks a lot worse than it actually is. The wheelchair is just a convenience while my leg heals. I'll probably be walking around with a cane for awhile, but I should be fine."

I looked Ippi in the eyes. "You probably shouldn't stay here. They'll only take you back to the island."

"I'm counting on it. They have something of mine, and I want it back."

Weyland rolled his eyes at this, but said nothing.

"What about Ssunamrozedrah and her friend?"

"They're on the barge," Caitlyn said. "Hunting the babies with Press. I...don't think they're having any luck."

I stared. "The barge hasn't sunk?"

Caitlyn shrugged. "It's _kinda sunk_...but kinda not."

She sniffed my arm. "They bathed you, but you still smell like poo."

"That can't be helped."

"What about Ernie?"

"Your proto-queen is currently parked in one of my warehouses," Weyland said. "With the spaceship. I have her... _worshipers_ under guard."

"And Lacethanny?"

Weyland shook his head. "That I'm not certain about. Your... _Tamagotchi_ there claims she released the larva into the park to hunt down the babies, but so far all she's doing is wandering aimlessly and eating things."

"I'm a Furby," Big Bird said, but Weyland didn't care about the subject enough to respond.

"What have you done with Thonwa?"

"Her condition was critical, but we tried our best with the data we had. Your Abreya friend assisted with video relay, but we won't be able to do any further repairs until we get to more sophisticated facilities."

"She's in cryostasis now," Xavier added. "We can afford to keep her frozen until we get back to the island. _You_ , however..."

"Could I maybe help out the team if someone pushes me in a wheelchair or something? You know, track down Sil's babies?"

The look I was getting from Susan was no, but Weyland muttered, "Sounds like a plan."

"Let me guess," said Eight. "You want me to be the chair man."

"Look at this guy," Weyland joked. "I promote him to chairman and he complains about it."

The big guy blew a raspberry.

"Eight...I thought you died when the stairs collapsed. What happened?"

"I took a swim in some shit. That's what."

The smell was mostly gone, and I had an appetite. "Actually, I _would_ like something to eat."

I heard that the owner had all kinds of delicious fattening foods, but I had to be careful with my heart, so they said I would have to make do with a chef salad and some sushi.

"What _is_ this place?" I said after swallowing my fifth seaweed wrap.

" _You're in my house_." A man, dressed like an extra from Andrew Lloyd Webber's _Cats_ , you know, spray painted leotards, hair done up to look feline, with the most womanly cat makeup, stepped up to my bed, cape flapping behind him. The pitch of his voice and the unusual shape of his pecs indicated hormone treatments.

He gave me a showy bow. "My name is Gryllus. That's a grrr, a Y from furry and a thrilling trill-us. My fursona is a half cricket feline. Gryllidae felus catus."

I frowned. I wasn't about to ask him what all that silly terminology meant.

 _"It came with the house,"_ Welyand groaned. "Crossgender cosmetics is big. I bought the company to diversify my portfolio. It's given me a fair amount of returns, but I have absolutely no use for the samples. Even my sister refuses to wear them."

"It's an acquired taste. _But I know my market._ " Gryllus did a gay little `I'm a little teapot' thing with his hands. "I still think you're too pale. _You could use_ a few colorizers."

"Thanks," Weyland said with an irritated grimace. " _I'll pass._ "

"My _partner_ , Chocolate Chip, had AIDS. I'm still saddened by _hyr_ loss. It's good to see someone making use of all this hospital stuff." The weirdo leaned over my bed, offering me a few containers of product. "I'd like you to try these. They're all completely safe. I've tested them myself, but I fear they don't yet have unisex appeal. Since you're not going to be doing anything for four weeks, I figured you could help me in that department. _You have such a cute face._ "

Honestly, I would have rather clawed my eyes out. "Is this supposed to make me more attractive to guys, or to women?"

He blinked, seeming to not understand the question. "Yes."

"Well that's your problem right there."

"I'm not sure I follow."

"It has to either attract a man or a woman. It can't do both at the same time."

"Why not?"

Annoyed with his stupidity, I flopped my head against the pillow, staring at the ceiling.

"I'll check back on you in an hour," Susan said with a smile.

The moment she disappeared from the room, Weyland whispered in my ear. "How do you feel about a little tour of the grounds?"

"It...sounds like fun. Can I see the front gate?"

He nodded. _"Great minds think alike."_

"Where's Sil?"

"She's dead. You don't want to see her. Trust me."

"I want to see her," I growled.

With a sigh, Weyland gestured to his henchman, and the two helped me into a wheelchair, pushing me across the room to a refrigeration tank.

A glass cylinder misting with cold vapor, hooked up to refrigeration machinery. Once they had cleared off the frost, I could see Sil's remains, blackened, charred, but human-like, with crispy bits of hair sticking out of its skull.

It reminded of a discarded cicada shell, but one with bits of the cicada still left inside, lungs, vital organs. It wasn't something she could have walked away from.

I pressed my hand to the glass, weeping over what I'd lost, what friendship there could have been.

She understood me.

"It's hard for me too," Xavier said as he placed a hand on my shoulder.

I cried and couldn't stop crying for more than a minute.

At last, when I caught my breath, I whimpered, "Where's my suit?"

"Huh!" Gryllus said. " _That rag?_ The whole thing was cracked and melted and smelled like shit. They had to cut it away from your body just to do the operation. You can do _so_ much better."

Weyland crossed his arms. "Do you have any ladies' clothing?"

Gryllus burst out laughing. "Ladies' clothing? _Moi?_ " He touched a couple glittery nails to his face, his other hand still making a teapot handle. _"For you or her, sugar?"_

The weirdo had a huge bedroom, with rows of animal mascot costumes on display like suits of armor, and giant closets, wardrobes and dressers filled with female clothes.

The walls displayed framed pictures of animals, both of pets, and, near the mascot suits, a cartoon representation of what each costume was supposed to be, a female wolf, a bear, a female dinosaur, etcetera, a lot of them with exposed human genitalia. He even had mascot costumes for both Groot and the raccoon from _Guardians of the Galaxy_.

As I examined a giant photo of a pair of Persian cats, Gryllus said, "Bruno and Juno. I _would_ let them up here, but they tend to use my dresses as a scratching post."

On a monitor, a comedy program, one simply titled _Oh Fuck_ , showed a scene from that interactive Yoda movie I'd interrupted. I snickered as I saw Yoda telling his Jedi Knights, "Get that bitch out of here," his words perfectly synced to his mouth movements.

They had a mini interview with the CGI character afterwards, one where he told the audience the Dark Side had manifested itself in his good side, and he was just giving it a sharp rebuke.

This was followed by a short little cartoon where Yoda tells Samuel Jackson's character to eject a pink colored female out of the Jedi council using that now famous line.

I giggled, pretending like I had nothing to do with it.

A muscular man that looked like an underwear model lay passed out naked on the big four poster bed in the middle of the room. "That's Ken," Gryllus muttered as I stared at him. "He's my bedwarmer."

I pulled on the first pair of frilly silk underthings he handed me, because no one was going to see them anyway.

Well, _after he told me they'd been washed and dry cleaned, of course_.

He threw open a closet, allowing me to look around.

It had been a long time since I'd been in a department store and actually shopped. To see such a wide selection of things to wear was a little daunting, especially since I couldn't afford to waste time on things like this.

Gryllus held various blouses, camisoles and skirts up to my body, tossing seemingly random stuff on an elaborately carved mahogany table.

 _"Do I have women's clothes!"_ he mocked.

He thrust a strapless little bra thing into my hands. "Honey, this look is _you._ "

I shook my head in disgust. "I'd like to wear something that has a little more to it than that."

"Oh poo," Gryllus said. " _You can always accessorize._ "

"No, I mean, it's not decent."

"Trust me, honey, _that's a lot more decent than some things I've seen!_ "

"You should wear that," said Caitlyn. "A guy would love it."

"That's not really my objective."

"Then what _is_ your objective?" Gryllus asked. " _Other women?_ "

"No. The objective is to _cover my naked body_ , okay?"

Gryllus shrugged. " _I was trying to help you do both._ "

I swallowed. "Don't you have any tops that have a little more coverage?"

"You have a nice bust, girly girl. Why don't you flaunt it a little?"

I picked up a denim vest from a table. "If it's just the same to you, _I'd rather wear this one._ "

"You're too stacked to be wearing that. You won't be able to breathe."

I sighed. "Then show me something else. Preferably something with straps."

Gryllus raised a penciled, makeup enhanced eyebrow. "Oh! So you're _one of them! Say no more!"_

He pulled out a leather bondage top with lots of zippers and studs. "I should have known from that costume you had on last night. This top just isn't working for me. I'm glad _someone_ can wear it."

He held it to my chest, then put the item back on a hanger. "That's not going to work with your bust, sugar. You need something with some _stretch._ " He handed me another strapless top.

"It's going to fall off. I'm going to a _battle_ , not a party."

"Actually," Weyland muttered in my ear. "You need to act like you're going to a party or you won't be able to leave. We don't want to arouse suspicion."

"You're right. I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's see what else you've got, Mr. Gryllus."

He reached into a clutter of sequins and feather boas, drawing out another denim vest, this one with some extras. He held this up to me, looking a bit displeased. "I'm sure it will fit, but it won't turn that many heads. _It's too busy._ "

I snatched it out of his dainty hands.

It looked nice. The thing had a little too much collar for my taste, and it had been molded like a camisole, but it was decent.

A rooster's wattle of white silk hung over the chest area like exposed cleavage, despite there being none exposed, the sleeves draped with more of the ruffled stuff.

"That one's cute," Caitlyn said. "I'd stick to that one."

I nodded.

As I slipped this on under my gown, Gryllus handed me a tiny chrome miniskirt.

"I prefer pants. _Jeans_ , if you've got them."

"Jeans!" Gryllus cried. "Me? Gryllus? Wear _dungarees_ like some common working slob?"

I sighed. "What does the Gryllus have?"

He handed me a filmy pair of stretch leatherette and nylon leggings, but I turned it down. "Something else, please."

The man on the bed had since awakened and thrown on some pants. "What about those Jeggings you wore for that party last month?"

"You're right. Those _were_ a little loose around the hips."

He pulled out a pair of what appeared to be jeans, with black butterfly designs running down the thighs. "This one _actually does_ have denim in it. It's probably the reason I never wear it. _Didn't like the texture._ "

"But you like the vests."

"Well, not exactly. Those were _Chocolate Chip's_ ideas."

I pulled the Jeggings on, then grabbed a black and red blotched skirt to wrap around the waist.

"You look nice," Eight said as I tossed the hospital gown aside.

I reddened. "Uh, thanks."

After staring at my hastily assembled ensemble in silence for a moment, Gryllus just rolled his eyes. "You buy them books, you buy them books, but all they do is eat the pages."

"You're a _man_ ," I said. "And you wear _leotards_. What do you know about it?"

He flipped his wrist at me like a sissy. " _Touch_ _é_ _!_ "

Gryllus lived in an ultramodern beach house, shaped like a cube, with lots of glass around the south end so you could look out at the water. The front end had topiary animals and a fountain. I saw this because we had to make a show of touring the place.

Eight took my wheelchair down to a sidewalk at the end of the property, I rolled down a boardwalk, taking in the sights... _including a boathouse._

"So what now?" I asked.

"We get on a boat and search the sinking barge for Sil's babies," Weyland said.

"What if they're not even there? What if they're _on land?_ "

"Do you know something I don't? Because I'd gladly change plans if you had _information..."_

I frowned, shook my head. "Where...are you keeping...Ernie?"

"You're really fixated on that xenomorph, aren't you?"

I shrugged. "I was just thinking that maybe she could give me some advice on what to do next."

"You didn't need it before, when you were tracking down Sil. I thought that if you could just...look around the barge, maybe you could pick up the scent."

"And _I_ was just thinking that I could use Ernie's advice and maybe her help in rescuing my friends."

"I'm afraid that's impossible. We're already in trouble with the Disney corporation. Your friends are going to need to serve out their term of service. In fact, if they ever connect this disaster to my company, I'll have to liquidate some of my holding just to settle the lawsuits out of court.

"The longer we're here, the more opportunities corporate executives will have to connect Sil to Weyland Yutani and Damballah. For this reason, it is imperative that we limit the operation to capturing and neutralizing Sil's offspring and leaving as quickly as possible."

Seeing that it was useless to argue, I simply jumped out of my wheelchair and sprinted down the boardwalk.

"Wait," I heard Weyland saying to Eight as I gained distance. "Let her go. I think we can use this to our advantage."

It took me a few minutes to find what I was looking for, but my tracking skills had improved over the last few days, so it was not long before I could sense the Ss'sik'chtokiwij scent beneath all the cocoa butter, Cony dogs, salt spray and alcohol, following it to a warehouse along the water.

The place had security cameras and drones, a barbed wire fence, and armed guards, its perimeter blocked in with steel cargo containers.

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij scent was strong, so I knew this had to be the right place.

I sneaked around to an unguarded corner near some of these big metal cubes, melting a hole in the fence with a few careful cuts to my fingers.

I knew it would put stress on my heart, but the only way I could get to the warehouse would be scaling the containers and jumping down the other side. I could only hope that I required less than four weeks to heal, and that the drones didn't spot me.

I climbed one container unaided by anything but my hands, only to discover a ladder on the side of one of them a moment later.

At the top, I stared down at the security detail.

I noticed two guards making the rounds at the padlocked side door. The men passed by, circling around the building.

Seizing my chance, I dropped down from the freight boxes, rushed to the padlock, melted it open. My heart still felt fine.

The door had a rusty hinge. The moment it swung open, a man in military fatigues popped out with an assault rifle.

I whipped it out of his hands and struck him in the head.

I thought about shooting him, but I didn't think Jesus would want that, so I just hit him again until he fell unconscious.

The wrecked spaceship stood in the center of the warehouse, glistening from being towed across water, still dripping in places, seaweed hanging from the cracks in its hull. Around it, strange tourists in prison cells, at least six from my vantage point, two per cell, knelt in worship before me.

Golic was the seventh. When he saw me, he spoke altogether too loudly, shouting that the intercessor between God and man had entered the building.

"Hey!" I heard someone shout. "Stay where you are!"

To my right, a figure stepped around the spaceship with a machine gun.

The people in the cells shouted for me to fight, but I raised my hands, surrendering to him.

Before he could reach me, a spray of bullets knocked him to the ground.

I looked up and saw Ippi hanging from a rafter by her tail, assault rifle clutched in her hands.

A second man came running from the other side of the ship, but Ippi picked him off just as easily, the prisoners cheering us on.

"The building's clear for the moment," Ippi said. "Make it count."

Ernie had been imprisoned in the rear corner of this warehouse, an electrified glass and metal enclosure.

She had grown since I'd seen her last, her chitinous tiara more crown-like, her bug abdomen swollen and large.

I tapped on the glass, interrupting her study of the book of Malachi.

"Greetings, child. What brings you to my prison?"

I smiled. "You're my friend. That's good enough, right?"

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij nodded. "It is, but I can tell you are here about something else."

I took a deep breath. "Ernie, I need your help."

She chuckled and shook her head. "Child, you do not understand the danger of what you ask me. _I am with egg!_ " She pointed to her enlarged sac.

 _"I know_. _I need your larvae._ "

Ernie trembled violently, crossing herself and muttering prayers. "Why? What possible reason would you have to inflict this kind of suffering upon a human being?"

 _"To bring justice to the oppressed."_

"What ever possessed you to ask this thing of me? Do you not understand the _horrors_ you will unleash?"

Thinking of Lacethanny, I swallowed and nodded. "There is no justice here. Children have no rights. The only way they can be free is if we make sure the men holding them prisoner can never hurt anyone ever again."

Ernie bowed her head sadly. "Very well. _The Lord forgive us both if you are wrong."_


	35. Chapter 35: Jihad

Ernie had been very busy. In addition to the eggs swelling up in her abdomen, I spotted a cluster of five more green ovoids resting in the rear portion of her cage.

Not quite as large as the ones I'd seen with the grandmother.

Not quite as hideous, either. I might be biased, but I kinda thought they looked a bit...flower-like, at least around the top.

"I admit I wasn't sure what to do with them," Ernie said as she noticed me admiring them. "They just come out of me. Judging by the humans imprisoned here, I doubt I'll have a shortage of willing volunteers, but the thought troubles me, for in doing this, I make myself no better than my aunt Ssorzechola, whom I destroyed for a similar trespass against God."

"I don't understand. Maybe we should share minds."

Her slimy mouth curled into a smile. "Gladly. How much time do you have?"

I frowned. "Will it take long?"

The smile faded. _"It may._ "

"Maybe later. But I'd like it."

"I'd like it too."

She cleared her throat. "Ssorzechola started a cult. she controlled their minds, so they could feed her a steady stream of meat and host bodies. She used mind worms to accomplish her terrible acts, but this madman, Golic, is doing the same thing, without the worms, or my approval."

"So it's not your fault. I wouldn't worry about it."

Ernie nodded, appearing to be heartened by this.

I told her about my near death experience, my encounter with Jesus.

"I've seen him too. There are many debates regarding the subject of hell. Some say the _smoke_ of the torment of the wicked is forever, not the evildoers themselves, and that the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, which features hell, may be hyperbole. What you describe, then, may be genuine."

"And about Lacey?"

Ernie shrugged. "Some atheists truly believe that there is no afterlife, but most hold to a vague form of spirituality, and desperately want to believe that something awaits them beyond the veil. They may face a different sort of ending."

"But if you're erased forever, what of all the sins you have committed?"

"It's a _mercy_ , child. Of course, there _will be_ a judgment, and in that long hour, I believe all those acts of wickedness will be reviewed one final time so that judgment can be done with full and accurate precision."

I heard gunshots. The Abreya dropped down from the ceiling, breathing heavily and looking impatient. "Are you going to stand around and talk, or are we going to do something?"

"How do I open this cell?" I stammered.

"I believe, if pressed in the correct sequence," Ernie said. "The buttons should play the opening bars to _Devil Inside_ by INXS."

Ippi pulled out a makeup compact, blowing foundation powder onto the door's security keypad.

The sequence of buttons _actually did_ sound like a tinny version of _Devil Inside_.

Unfortunately, this was not the only security feature. The door also had a retinal and fingerprint scanner.

With a growl of frustration, Ippi ripped out a couple wires, shoving a gray diamond shaped device into the underside of the panel.

The lock erupted in a shower of sparks, causing the cell door to pop open.

I gave Ernie a hug. "Have either one of you seen Vodzetu or Estalix?"

Ernie pointed a claw at a pair of metal and glass cells at the other end of the warehouse. "They were brought in a few hours ago."

She bowed her head in sorrow. "Vodzetu died. His body is in cold storage. However, Estalix is doing much better. Mrs. Hannigan has provided medication that seems to be healing his ailment."

"I told them they should go away from here and leave Ernie alone," Ippi said. "But Ssunamrozedrah wanted to be with her sister."

" _Niece_ ," Ernie corrected.

Ippi stared, shaking her head. "She's...younger than you are. How are you not the aunt?"

"Grandmother is quite lively. The one named Lacethanny is her newest. She has a pleasantly mottled shell."

"Wait," I cried in alarm. " _Your grandmother_ killed my friend?"

Ernie looked at me sadly. "The way I understand it, _humans_ were responsible. Lacethanny didn't know her parentage until I told her. That is not the Ss'sik'chtokiwij way."

The cells had been built exactly the same for all three aliens. Same password and security features.

"It was a bloodbath, getting that ship here," Ippi said as she worked the lock on Ssunamrozedrah's cell. "We had a little shootout. I hope we can use the components on that wreck to fix the Iberet."

She fried the lock, then opened the Yautja's.

"We're going to need a boat or something," I said. "Have you seen any nearby?"

Ippi threw open a hatch in the warehouse floor, showing me a closed boathouse with a bunch of docked motorboats. "I sneaked in through here. Those look handy, don't you think?"

I nodded.

She put a hand on my shoulder. "How are your stitches holding up?"

I answered, "Okay, I guess."

"Those humans are so primitive. I can't imagine-"

"I'm fine. I actually feel okay. I must heal quicker than they think."

"That's good to hear. Let's get Ernie's eggs and do this thing."

"Wait. This sounds too easy. We need a plan, right?"

"Already ahead of you." Ippi took the lens out of a set of computer glasses, clipping a little device to it. The contraption became a projector that shined the blueprint of a naval frigate on the warehouse wall.

She highlighted the image with a laser pointer ring. "The S.S. Ariel. Disney repurposed a Russian boat, painted it pink, and changed its name. The major weaponry has been dismantled for civilian use, but they kept the assault weapons.

"They're currently docked a couple miles from here, for a major press conference. The children will be traded off to underground slave markets once the crews leave the area.

"They'd have them resume work right away, but it would look bad with all those news crews about. They mostly got kids working on actual kid stuff for once, and some light humanitarian aid. I'm sure it won't last long. Now is the best possible time to strike."

She pointed the laser dot at the top level. "Radio towers, crew quarters, helicopter landing pad. Prostitutes, alcohol and drugs are being provided in abundance to lubricate things and keep reporters too busy to ask solid questions.

"The two top tiers are display cabins for good little girls and boys. The not-so-good ones are hidden in the inner compartments. My sources say the workers will steer reporters away from these areas."

She pointed the dot at the lower levels. "There's less display cabins down here. More than likely, your friends are hidden behind the so-called `storage bays', which look big, but are in reality only a sixteenth of the floor, hopelessly cluttered with theme park junk to scare the serious reporters off."

"You said they have assault weapons," I said. "What happens if we get on one of those boats and go by there in broad daylight?"

"I have your friend's cloaker." Ippi drew the object out of her pocket. "We can use it to hide the boat. It has enough power for small objects like that."

"Okay...But there's going to be soldiers on that boat, right? You saw how I got in trouble here, with only a handful of soldiers. I'm thinking we kinda need an army."

Golic, who had been eavesdropping the whole time, eagerly pressed his face against the bars of the cell. "I couldn't help but overhear that you were in need of soldiers."

I swallowed. "We... _might need some_. Why?"

He gestured to the people in the other cells. "These men and women will gladly die for the sake of Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, if she but give the word. _Is this a jihad?_ "

Ernie visibly shuddered. "Perhaps."

"My Lord, I do not understand," Golic replied.

Ernie sighed in frustration. "Yes. _This may be possibly construed as a jihad._ "

Golic's face lit up with glee. "Did you hear that! Our great Lord Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik has summoned us for a most holy jihad!"

The other prisoners cheered, rattling plastic serving trays and other objects against the bars of their cells. "Iyya Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik! Iyya Shasharmazorb!"

"I'm liking this idea less and less," Ernie muttered.

"Am I late for the party?" Eight called from a doorway.

Ippi turned the assault rifle on him. "You weren't invited, so I'd suggest you leave."

The big guy readied his own weapon, not moving an inch. "I'll drop you the moment you pull that trigger."

"Maybe. But we'll die at the same time."

"I'm not looking for Sil's babies," I said. "You can tell Weyland forget it."

Ippi kept her weapon aimed at Eight's head. " _Where_ is your master anyway?"

"He's not the master of _me_. I only came to help."

"Right. Likely story. Where is he hiding? Outside the door?"

"I came alone. You can check outside if you like."

Ippi and I exchanged uncomfortable glances.

"You want to help?" the Abreya said. "Carry those eggs down to the big blue and white boat downstairs."

Eight didn't question the order, he just marched into Ernie's cell.

"Wait!" the egg layer protested, but the man was already lugging one out.

The top flaps on the egg slowly cracked open, a clutter of knobby white-pink spider legs emerging from an encasement of goopy translucent slime.

Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik rushed up to the egg, shouting, "Samuel, no! This is not a good host! You must be _patient!_ "

The hand-like spider thing relented, drawing the flaps closed around its slimy body.

The man took the egg downstairs, to a large motorboat. He made a good show of not looking scared, but his face sweated.

An inflatable dolphin, about the size of a real one, lay fully filled with air at one end of the dock. Ippi tied it off one end of the boat. I didn't ask.

We released Golic's fanatics, and set about loading Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik's eggs into the boat.

Not as easy as it sounds.

The knuckles and fingers of the arachnid creatures kept emerging from the eggs, disturbing the flaps. "Keep your faces away from the opening!" Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik would shout, or she would bark to the egg itself, commanding it to leave the human alone.

At last, we got all five eggs loaded in, our warriors boarded, armed with knives and other random weapons from the warehouse, and we opened the garage door at the end of the boathouse, motoring out into the Strait.

The cloaker hummed as the motor churned up the water. To someone viewing the scene from the outside, it probably looked like Speedy the Wonder Dolphin going for a new world record, or maybe a weird dolphin shaped torpedo.

The eggs tried to crack open and attack our passengers, but Ernie still had influence over them, calming them down, making them settle until we could set them upon our enemy.

Our religious zealots clutched their weapons, eyes fixed on the pink object in the distance.

I wanted to talk about some things with Ernie, but the sound of the motor was too loud for us to discuss anything at any length.

"Once you kill a man," she said to me. "You can never take it back. There is no going back in time to change what you did."

I sighed. _"I know_. But I don't know any other way to save my friends. Or those other children."

Ernie did not argue. "Your outfit is interesting. Was this a selection of your own choosing, or were these articles selected for you?"

"I picked them myself. You like it?"

She nodded. "It's pretty."

That was pretty much all the conversation we had over the roar.

In the distance, the main Disney slowly burned and sank like the Titanic. Good riddance, I thought.

We arrived at the pier where the S.S. Ariel had been docked, quieting the motor.

It looked like Barbi had taken over the navy. A big ship, painted in various shades of hot pink, with the bare breasted Little Mermaid on the prow. Drones buzzed around the radio towers, the landing pads where staff and news helicopters landed.

A crowd had gathered at the end of the pier, but guards kept the people from entering.

A man in a lady's pantsuit stood at a podium, giving them a very serious speech...about something I couldn't hear.

The only thing I caught from the speaker system was "These are orphans, with no families to return to."

Ippi waved a phone at the side of the ship, driving us around the tall pink hull for a few minutes.

She stopped, pointing at a spot along the water line. "There. Their chip reading is strongest right here."

Our boat puttered close to the continuous wall of metal. Ippi killed the engine.

"Great. How do we get in?"

The Abreya rolled her eyes. "Like you got through that fence at the warehouse."

I cut my hand and placed it on the metal, watching the surface bubble beneath my palm.

"You're going to take forever," Ssunamrozedrah growled, applying liberal amounts of steaming saliva on her claws. "Here."

She traced a circle on the metal with her slime, Ernie further etching it with her own burning drool.

When the circle got sufficiently melted, Eight became impatient, giving it a punch. The steel clattered noisily into the boat.

The alien worshipers cheered, adding to the danger of sounding an alarm. We stifled the noise with some stern religious sounding rebukes, but I feared the damage had already been done.

"Could you possibly make more racket!" Ippi complained. "Maybe we should just shut the cloaker off and wave a big flag and shout `Hey! We're down here trying to break into your ship!'"

Our fake dolphin suddenly squealed. Someone had put a bullet into it.

I looked up and saw a figure in a purple dress aiming a rifle our way.

"Keep still!" Ippi hissed. "No one make a sound!"

At last Ernie's groupies shut up.

"Can those things climb walls?" I asked Ernie.

 _"Things?"_ she asked, confused.

"The...things in the eggs."

" _Socmavaj,_ " she corrected. She looked up. " _Possibly._ But I hardly think the destruction of a plastic beach toy merits such a violent and messy death..."

"The guard could potentially put us all in danger. If he sees something and tells his superiors..."

Eight pulled out a pistol with a silencer attachment, shooting the sniper in the head.

" _Genius,_ " Ippi growled. "Weyland clearly didn't hire you for your brains."

"What. _I got him._ "

When a second skirted man in purple passed by above us, he killed him too.

Ippi sighed, snapping her tail in annoyance.

"Let's hurry up and get inside," I suggested. "Before we get caught."

The Abreya glanced at the opening, then at the eggs. "Let's send your... _socmavaj_ in first. They're... _not something I want to turn my back to._ "

Eight handed me my switchblade bracelets.

"Where'd you get those?"

"You left them behind in the room with all the fat people. On the floor."

I frowned, arming myself.

I glanced at the eggs. "Wait. How will they know the difference between a guard and an innocent child?"

Ippi smacked her head. " _How come this topic didn't come up when we were making plans in the warehouse?"_

"I can control them," Ernie said. "As you have witnessed, I compelled them not to attack anyone on this boat...the children are all in _cages_ , correct?"

I swallowed. " _I hope so,_ if it's going to be that imprecise."

"Children aren't very good hosting material anyway."

" _Smithson_ would, though," said Eight. "He's got a lot of meat."

I stared. "Is he on the boat?"

" _We don't know where the hell he is._ Someone fudged his chip."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Ippi said. "Let's get moving. Out in the open, we're sitting ducks."

I began to protest, but Ernie said, "If my socmavaj find this `Smithson,' I will command it to release him."

I bent down to carry one of the eggs into the opening, but Ernie said, "Don't strain yourself."

"Zeke," she called, waving her claw like an orchestra conductor.

Immediately, one of the spider things burst from its egg like a coiled spring, flying through the hole.

I shivered, though I wasn't sure if this were due to fear, disgust, or the romantic admiration one would give a beloved cousin that just got married off.

Four more times she did this, sending in Jeremy, Amos, Hosea and Lammy (short for Lamentations).

"See you inside," Ernie said as she followed them through the hole.

Golic tried to rush in afterwards, but I grabbed him before he could get too far. "I'd probably wait a little. You...guys are better off bringing up the rear."

Golic bowed in reverence. "You are the mediator high priestess in communion with our Lord. I will do as you command."

Ssunamrozedrah climbed in, then Estalix. I hurried in afterwards.

The child kennels had been set up in neat rows, stacked on top of each other to maximize capacity. Stations at the end of the aisles held their clothing, food and personal possessions, but they were locked.

The place did not look that much different from the place I'd been taken to when I'd first become imprisoned by Disney officials. Just a big gray metal warehouse with rusty walls that sweated from the condensation from all the captives being held there. It smelled like piss, shit and B.O. Complete squalor.

The PA system played _Epitaph_ by King Crimson, perhaps to drown out the sounds of whimpering and crying children. It seemed oddly appropriate for our offensive, like the background to a tragic opera, only someone else's tragedy.

In this particular prison block, Disney had assigned approximately eleven men to guard one hundred children in cages, not counting the one Eight shot.

Near the hole, I saw two thrashing on the floor with socmavaj hugging their faces. Pink tails curled around their necks as the men uttered muffled screams.

I looked to my left, watching with horror as Ernie shattered a man's forehead with her mouth claw.

When the man collapsed on the floor, she blessed his dead body.

I could see a third socmavaj victim a few feet away from her.

Some distance away from that, at another row of cages, Ssunamrozedrah bit through the skull of another guard. Estalix fired his blaster.

 _"The wall on which the prophets wrote is cracking at the seams,"_ went the song on the PA. _"Upon the instruments of death the sunlight brightly gleams._ "

Seeing Ippi walking up a row, waving her phone around, I rushed up to her, eagerly staring at the screen. "Find anything yet?"

She sighed. "...Maybe."

"I hear you programmed these chips to have a _slight glitch._ "

 _"It seemed like a good idea at the time,"_ I sighed.

After following the blinking dot on the readout for a few moments, we came to a sudden stop in front of a small metal locker.

"Uh-oh," the Abreya said. "I don't like the look of this."

The lock was simple. She picked it in less than a minute.

We stared at the locker's contents in dismay.

The shelves contained all kinds of personal items, picture lockets, dolls (including Family Spirits), toys, computer glasses...and an entire shelf full of chips in jars, many with flesh still attached.

The loud beeping told me the ones belonging to my friends were among them. "Oh God! They're dead, aren't they?"

 _"Not...necessarily_ ," Ippi said. "Maybe these people just yanked their chips out so that _interested parties_ couldn't find them."

"So what now?"

She shrugged. "A floor to floor search? I hear you've got _quite the nose._ "

I ran up the aisles, checking the cages, but saw no sign of Josh or Kamara. I took keys from the dead guards, but didn't unlock the cells. The children would be nothing but hostages and a liability until the area was secured.

A guard jumped out of the shadows, grabbing me from behind, but I stabbed him with the switchblade bracelet and shot him with his own gun.

When his companion popped out from behind a row of cages and shot me, his throat appeared to slash itself.

"No sign of your friends?" asked Ippi's disembodied voice.

I shook my head. "None."

"Are you going to free the kids?"

"Not yet. For the moment, they're safer where they are."

The socmavaj that had face hugged the guards now lay dead on the ground next to their victims. Ernie hurriedly vomited black ooze all over their bodies, cocooning them to the floor so they couldn't move.

Eight and Estalix killed the last two guards.

Ippi fried the locking mechanism on the door at the end of the cell block, wrenching the barred frame back into its track.

I saw Golic running up to me, followed by his crowd of converts, each armed with weapons from the dead guards. "Awaiting your orders, favored lady."

Ippi pointed to the door. "Send your people in there and take out the guards."

Golic didn't move, looking at me expectantly. "Milady?...If it is proper to call you by this honorific?"

I rolled my eyes. " _What she said._ "

Golic raised a knife in the air. "Onward! Death to the infidel! Iyya Shasharmazorb!"

"Death to the infidel!" his followers echoed.

Fearing a violent misunderstanding, I blurted, "Spare the children."

Golic waved the knife. "Bless the children! Death to the infidel!"

"Iyya Shasharmazorb! Iyya Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik!" the followers cried.

With a chilling war cry, Golic and his crazed disciples rushed into the next prison area with guns blazing and knives drawn.

It turned into a bloodbath.

Golic's men surprised the armed guards with their fanatical cries and Kamikaze-style attacks. They killed twenty guards, only losing two of their number in the conflict.

We found a back office/officer's lounge, with a pool table and other games, vending machines and comfortable but used looking leather chairs. It had a few bedrooms in the rear.

My militia killed two men by the dart board, then smashed open a machine, passing its contents around to the children.

The astonished looks we got were like someone had handed them caviar and ribeye steaks. Hardly any of them had a decent meal in months.

Some of the kids even fought over those Cheetos and Ho-Hos, but I scolded them. "You help us take over the boat, and I promise we'll find a way to get you all something better than that... _dog food_ they've been feeding you."

"Ellie! Ellie!" the children shouted.

"Iyya Shasharmazorb! Iyya Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik!" other kids cried.

I rolled my eyes at this, but at the moment I valued their teamwork and loyalty too much to step down from that particular pedestal. This was a debate for another time.

Still no sign of my friends, and we had reached the end of the boat.

"Your orders, Milady?" Golic asked.

I tossed him a set of keys. "Free all those kids. Get them whatever clothes you can find, and weapons."

"A children's crusade?" he asked with excitement.

"Um, kinda. Without the whole `selling them to the Turkish empire as slaves' part."

I screamed when I accidentally bumped into Ernie, then laughed when I saw who it was. "Sorry."

"I apologize for startling you. I have sent some dwarf socmavaj into the area at the far end. My associates have killed the rest of the guards. This floor is secure."

She bowed her head. "This is unpleasant business. I came from a colony on a terraformed planet where everyone died, and now we're taking lives on purpose."

"Ernie, _we're trying to save children._ If I had rights as a United States citizen, if I had any influence over the legal system at all, we wouldn't be doing this. Plus they have my friends...have you found them yet?"

Ernie frowned. "I did not. However, I _did_ find an interesting companion."

It was Sil's baby.

The creature actually looked _shy_ around me, like it desperately, I don't know, wanted to be my friend?

As I stared, it slowly waddled forward.

"He's friendly," Ernie said. "I do not believe he will harm you."

Sil's baby whimpered, rubbing up against my leg like a cat.

It may have been a mutant pillbug thing with no eyes, but something about it just melted my heart, so I picked it up, holding it to my breast. "Aww, you miss your mommy, don't you?"

The creature purred, nuzzling my chest. It seemed I was its mother now. I mean, who else would accept it for what it was?

"This is touching," Ippi said. "But we need to keep moving before they send in reinforcements."

"My sac is depleted," Ernie said. "And larva takes time to incubate. I'm afraid there is a limit to my usefulness. I should stay here and await the hatching. My larva should know their mother."

I noticed Golic's people were still unlocking cells. "Could you help that guy and his buddies while you're at it?"

"Certainly."

"Take over the cell unlocking detail and get those people to help us take the next floor."

"Does it disturb you that you have become exactly what Weyland trained you to become?"

I frowned. "He only gave me the _tools_. This is _my_ mission."

The freed children gathered around me.

I told them, if they valued their freedom, to take up arms and fight the guards, to overwhelm them with their great number.

They all had bleak haunted looks on their faces, but seemed to understand, grabbing any weapon they could get their hands on.

Since the stern of the ship yielded no way to the upper floors, we turned around, marching to the opposite end.

A wall of junk lay at the end of the prison block, a massive pile of discarded parts from amusement park rides, wielded in places to maintain stability, a rotator arm here, a roller coaster car there, thick metal poles, lighting rigs, tracks, plating, plastic sculptures, broken hydraulic pistons and so forth.

To one side of this barricade lay an open hatch with a staircase. A second pressure door led around to a `display area', a big posh looking hotel room with multiple beds and Disney themed decor, where well dressed, well fed children calmly played video games, read, created art, music and animation projects on computers, generally anything fun. I saw no guards or adults anywhere.

Immaculate pink carpeting, perfectly painted walls, framed pictures of Disney characters, huge comfortable beds with patterned bedspreads, perfect temperature.

These were the elite, the spoiled privileged children, the poster children the Disney corporation used as showpieces to conceal the abuses going on in the hidden compartments.

My stomach tightened into knots as I imagined how these children sold their souls to get where they were, how they clawed their way to the top, backstabbing, betraying anyone who got in their path.

A red haired boy in a prep school uniform with the blue and gold equality sign on the breast regarded my ragamuffin companions with disdain. "How did _those things_ get out!"

"They're human beings!" I yelled. "Just like you! Do you truly have no soul!"

"Souls are only a collection of impulses in a wrinkled mass of gray matter," he said with a sneer. " _Mine is simply superior to theirs_. Get them out of here at once, or things will become unpleasant."

"No," I said.

"T-134," he said to a little girl in a matching uniform.

The girl put down the laptop she'd been drawing pictures on, aiming a pistol at one of the free children.

" _Now_ ," the boy insisted. "Or she starts shooting."

I had expected trouble the moment I stepped in there. My hand, which still clutched the handle of a pistol, I raised and pointed at the girl.

" _You'd shoot a child?_ " she mocked.

I lowered the gun. "I should, but it's not your fault you weren't raised right. Maybe one day you'll understand what is lacking in your life."

She laughed. "Oh yeah, bitch? Well I think you're wrong. This diva is going straight to the motherfucking top!"

And then she shot one my little friends in the head.

I waved the other kids out. "C'mon. Go. _God, she's nuts._ "

"That's what I thought," the boy said.

The girl shot me in the stomach. "That's for calling me nuts."

I frowned at the hole in my top. " _I'm sorry._ Can you put that gun down please?" I stuffed mine in my pocket, as a sign of good faith.

"Okay, _so we're both nuts._ " She set the pistol aside, returning to her drawing.

The boy pointed to the dead body. "Do be so kind as to remove this from the room."

Ignoring the request, I turned my back on the whole ugly scene, deciding to leave them where they were, not even speak to them. I figured the smells of a decaying corpse would make them reconsider their life decisions.

The boy picked up a Mickey Mouse phone, making a call. "This is T-135 to Pit Bull," he said into the receiver. "Level 2 has been compromised. Guest support needed urgently. Bring _Uncle Joe._ "

He'd just ratted us out to someone, probably requested more guards, like some brainwashed Communist child spy from one of those old movies. "Enjoy your victories while they last," he said to me. "I've just requested assassins and a biohazard unit."

I wanted to murder him.

I suppose it would have been the straightforward military answer, destroy a threat so it never bothers you again, but it would make me no better than anyone else in this post morality culture.

You don't beat a kid, you don't kill a kid, even if that kid hates you and wants you to die in the most horrible way possible.

Children in Vietnam and other wars were sent to GI's with live grenades in their hands, but it wasn't the child's fault. We don't know the full story of why they did it. We don't know the first thing about their parents, or how they were raised. Plus, he'd already reported me, so I would not be preventing anything by killing him.

He didn't appear to be carrying any weapons. It seemed he had mostly earned his rank on the food chain by being a squealing asshole. "I forgive you. As the Lord forgives you."

The boy furrowed his brow, looking puzzled. The facial contortion made me think of a miniature Frankenstein monster trying to comprehend human romantic relationships. "Is that an attempt to proselytize me? Because if it is, you're not only going to be on display as a freak, you're also going to be drugged out of your mind at a re-education camp."

"No," I said. "I was merely stating a fact."

"If you were merely stating a fact, you'd say that God doesn't exist."

"Can you _prove_ that God doesn't exist?"

I didn't wait for an answer. I didn't have time. "I'm holding an alien baby, and you're being a jerk to me, like this is nothing special or even remotely interesting to you. Haven't you ever wanted to be an astronaut? Meet alien lifeforms?"

He gave me that Frankenstein look again. "You can...take me to meet them?"

I clenched my fists, then relaxed them. "Only if you come with me. And hurry."

He glanced back at the other spoiled children. "What about them?"

"I'm sure they'll be fine where they are. This is just for you."

He smiled a little. "Can I touch your alien?"

"I wouldn't. He has a tendency to rip people's faces off."

The boy paused by the door. "Wait. How do I even know you can take me to space?"

I opened my mouth, making the claw thing pop out.

That seemed to be compelling enough for him, for he didn't argue anything afterwards, he just followed me through the passage, to my team.

The boy's eyes widened as he saw hundreds of free lower caste children surrounding him. "What are they doing out of their cages!"

Before I could stop them, a mob of these Lilliputian prisoners grabbed the boy, beat him to the floor with their fists and other blunt objects, and stabbed him to death.

At least it was done by someone his own physical age, and not by my own hand.

A handful of children rushed into the room I'd just left. I heard gunshots, but I didn't bother to check to see what had happened. We had to keep going.

Shaking my head sadly, I led our militia up the narrow staircase, reaching the barrier of junk concealing the prison areas on the upper level.

The guards on the bottom floor had been surprised by an army of fanatics, but the ones here were absolutely petrified when they saw them _and_ two hundred children attacking with knives, sticks, wrenches and other blunt objects, accompanied by Eight, an Abreya a Ss'sik'chtokiwij and a Yautja.

We killed several people. What else could I do? I was protecting those who had no protection.

We had the floor secured in no time at all, losing only two cult members and five children. Sil's killer baby actually proved to be _helpful_ in this, taking down two armed thugs before I even sensed them coming.

We climbed another floor, again traveling far to the stern as we followed the staircase.

The hidden prison behind this floor's barricade was small, occupied by only fifty children, and they'd been drugged with allergy medicine to make them sleepy and quiet. When we let them out, they didn't know where they were, barely even registering the fact that they needed clothes. No sign of my friends.

"Be careful around the privileged kids," I warned my team. "They may be spying for the enemy. I met one rat downstairs. There's likely to be more."

On the other side of the barricade, we found a big play place that seemed to have everything in it, a melding of the playful adult environment of Google's corporate offices with the features of FAO Schwartz and a children's fitness center like Discovery Zone.

"Looks like Santa's workshop," Eight muttered as he stared at the little food and drink delivery choo-choos, the kids with stuffed animals seated around a boardroom table, going over plans for video games, the giant piles of toys.

The children climbed through giant plastic crawl tubes, jumped across bridges on pirate playsets, made forts, played video games. Scantily clad androids read some of them stories (something about a boy that had two daddies, another about a friendly demon that brought people of all faiths together), complimented them on their artwork or other projects, basically acting like a mother. They tucked some of them under blankets on cozy little beds on the floor.

They had a miniature restaurant, too. And strippers. Quite a few of the children even watched the Disney Playboy Channel.

Reporters with small microphones narrated the scene to flying drones and `camera people' who held up tiny phones and other small video devices, their team members holding up lights and laptop sized teleprompters that described the so-called `charitable organization' in glowing politically correct terms.

Seeing the buffet laid out with food, the deprived children that accompanied me raided it, stuffing their mouths without even using plates or silverware.

In fact, those utensils they used to stab some of the privileged ones to death.

The reporters turned their cameras on my army, giving us a less than favorable review. They came up to some of the children, asking slanted questions that assumed things before the interviewee spoke, such as, "What terror cell hired you to break into the boat and attack people? Was it El Buraq, ISSUS, or one of the American based groups?" and "Is this grandstanding by a rival entertainment group, or are you making a radical political statement against the United States government on behalf of a Muslim government?"

One child got so fed up that she stabbed the reporter in the eye.

Instead of seeking medical attention, the reporter just whined to the camera about how he got stabbed.

The androids had tasers, but my militia took them down the moment they shocked one of us.

"Put your weapons down! All of you!" a voice barked as I approached the next floor staircase.

I gasped when I saw who came down to meet us.

Two identical looking men in matching red jumpsuits and sunglasses held Josh and Kamara at gunpoint.

My friends had dog collars around their necks, both of them unclothed, their arms bandaged where their chips had been removed. They marched down the steps with the muzzles of AR-15's pressed against the backs of their skulls.

The Witch King from the Moloch cult followed them, one hand clamped around the hilt of a golden ceremonial knife.

Human eyes glittered at me through the antlered death's head mask, air currents billowing his flowing black robe as he descended the stairs. "Drop your weapons and surrender. All of you. Or these children will die."

My hand trembled. "Not until I can see who I'm talking to."

"I don't have to do anything. But _you_...you have to lower your weapons, and surrender this ship to me!"

"Do it, Ellie," Kamara said. "This isn't our mission. You're not going to win."

I laid my gun on the floor, glaring at the mask. "Who are you?"

"The High Elk of Moloch."

" _Your real name_ , you son of a bitch!" I growled.

"I don't have to tell you that. Put down your creature."

Gritting my teeth, I set Sil's baby on the floor, making the stop gesture with my hand. _"Stay."_

She obeyed.

"Now tell your friends to put down their weapons."

"The coward refuses to take off his mask!" Golic barked. "He is too afraid to even show his face to the man he kills!"

His surviving followers jeered along with him, the children echoing the adults.

The High Elk grabbed his mask, throwing it on the stairs.

"How's that for cowardly?"

It was Jimmy Hampton, the so-called `evangelist'. "Tell your army to lay down their weapons!"

"That's not very Christian, Jimmy," I said. "What part of the bible says it's okay to keep child slaves and hold kids at gunpoint? For that matter, what part of the bible says it's okay to sacrifice babies to Moloch?"

"2 Corinthians 11:2. Genesis 13:5. Unified Spirits Translation. Weapons. Down."

I stared at him. "I believe you. It _sure doesn't sound_ like you use any translation that _real Christians_ use."

"You don't know what a true Christian is. That's why you murdered all those innocent men on this boat."

" _And you kill babies_. _What does that make you? The genuine article?"_

"Those are _sacrifices_ ," he said.

"And what I did was an act of _killing_ , not murder."

"I'm starting to think you don't like your friends very much. Which would you like me to shoot first? The negro bitch or the hot little boy?"

"Are you sure you want to do this? In front of news crews and everything?"

" _We own the news_. If any reporter dares to leak this to the public, I'll pull their funding. Without money, their voice won't be heard, ergo, it never happened. In the court of public opinion, if will be yet another little guy whining about sour grapes because he or she is jealous of our wealth."

The newspeople stared and muttered, but didn't disagree.

" _I've killed babies before._ This will be no different. I'm giving you the count of three to put those weapons-"

A bullet suddenly shattered the back of the man's head.

"Three," I heard someone say.

Something white latched onto the face of the gunman holding Kamara, and the muzzle of his AR-15 spun itself to face the other red suited man, filling him full of lead.

The Abreya made herself visible behind Kamara, undoing her bonds.

Eight stared at the dead Witch King. " _Tomorrow's revival meeting is going to be interesting."_

I turned to free Josh, but he'd already unhooked his own collar, wrapping himself in one of the clean blankets from the `nap time area'.

He came up to me, looking embarrassed. "We keep meeting like this. "

 _"Filthy habit,_ " I agreed.

He sighed. "You look nice, even if you have a bullet hole in your top."

"Thanks."

He rushed over to help Kamara search for clothing with a kind of haste that made me think he may have moved on.

Feeling an odd tickling sensation, I looked down and found Lacethanny purring and rubbing herself against my leg.

"Hi," I said. "Thanks for saving Kamara."

"Is that what I did? I was just hungry."

But then she made a purring chuckle like it were a joke.

"I had a _hunch_ you guys were here," Mr. Lennox said as he came down the stairs.

Smithson and his girlfriend joined us.

I gave them each hugs, staring at them. "Is the area clear upstairs?"

Press nodded. "Those guys were a pushover. Of course, _I had help._ "

"What about the assassins and the biohazard unit? A boy downstairs called for them."

He swallowed. "Then I guess we need to get moving onto the airbus, pronto."

"You got another one?"

"Yeah. I don't know. Weyland acquired it somehow. Anyway, it's high time we leave, before the shit hits the fan."

"Wait. Where is this airbus going?"

"Back to Weyland's island."

"No," I protested. "We can't go back there. Anywhere else."

"It's Weyland's airbus, technically. He says it's the safest place for you...and your friends."

" _We had an agreement,_ " Ssunamrozedrah said. "In exchange for helping you, you help us free Grandmother and get us off this planet."

"You don't know that place," I cried. "Weyland's not to be trusted. He'll never let you leave!"

"We have to try," Ssunamrozedrah answered. "Or die trying."

"Then you will die. I'm not going."

She shoved me up against a wall, distending her jaw threateningly. "I have not harmed your friends or your companions, and I have killed to release roughly a thousand tiny humans that I care nothing about! You _will_ uphold your end of the bargain, or I will shatter your fragile human skull with my suaakudsi!"

Estalix raised a pistol to my head. " _In case your head is harder than she thinks._ "

"I'd rather die than go back to that place," I said coldly.

"Very well," Ssunamrozedrah growled. "Perhaps I can kill one of your friends, then?"

She nodded toward Kamara. Estalix took as a command to point his gun at my friend's head.

"You'd make yourself no better than the men you just killed."

Ssunamrozedrah slammed me into the wall again. "You think I enjoy this? That bastard captured my grandmother and locked her in a dank dungeon somewhere on his little island! I helped _you_ free your _precious little friends_ , so you can at least do _me_ the _courtesy_ of helping _me_ free one of the few living family members I have left!"

I raised my hands defensively. "Okay, okay. I'll accompany you to the island."

I burst into tears.

The two aliens recoiled in alarm. "Is this contagious?"

"I'm just sad, okay? You've forced me into a suicide mission."

Ippi gestured to the mob we'd assembled. " _Foqipi_ , does _this_ look like a suicide mission to you?"

"Speaking of which," Press said. "What are we going to do with all these kids?"

" _Love them_ ," Rosa answered. "Maybe take them on a cruise. A _real one_ this time."

I glanced uncomfortably at Press. "This isn't going to work, is it? They're just going to take all the children back."

The man frowned. "I don't see how else this is going to play out. You have numbers, but they have enough money to buy ten armies."

"Let me worry about that," Rosa said. "You go back with your people. Dan and I will come up with something. I will make certain these children are free, or die trying."

I thought about the army of children for a moment, considering what on earth I could do with them. They were not safe where they were, nor would they ever be safe, and if they found their way back into the States, it was doubtful that they would not again be found an imprisoned.

At sea, the boat would doubtless be surrounded by an army, recaptured, and the fate of the children would be worse than before.

The only other alternative, as I could see it, was to attempt sending them to Weyland's island.

Yes, it could result in them getting killed, or placed in unpleasant military experiments, but at least they would not be sexually abused. And if there were another `accidental crash'..."I got a better plan. Tell Weyland the children are coming to the island with me. It's the only condition I'll accept in exchange for my cooperation."

"Fine. I'll help you with the kids. But I'm not going to fight the Supreme Court on marriages. You're on your own there."

 _"It's a start."_ I glanced back into the ship.

"And what will _you_ be doing?" Press asked.

"We still have Ernie and her larva in the lower deck. I need to have a little talk with her. If you see soldiers or anything coming, and I'm still down there, take off without me. I can stay here, but _Josh, Kamara, and all these kids_ , they need to go somewhere, so our enemy doesn't take hostages."

"Sorry, kid. I can't do that. I have instructions to protect you and bring you back safely."

I sighed. "Press. _You can see I can take care of myself._ And I'm going to be in the company of a bunch of killer space aliens."

Press gave me a wry smirk. "All right. _Just bring the car back by eleven. Daddy's got work tomorrow._ "

As I turned to go, Ssunamrozedrah tensed up in anger.

I raised my hands in a defensive gesture. "This won't take long. We'll find our way back to the island eventually. I just want to talk to Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik for a few minutes."

They both nodded.

"I intended to speak to her myself. She must leave this place, with or without her larva."

I was holding Sil's baby to my chest at the time. "That's...not something any mother would want to do."

"We Kijdosaz are survivors. It must be done."

"Maybe some of them hatched already."

 _"I don't know..."_ she growled.

"We can hope, can't we?"

When we ran away from there, I heard Press calling after me. "Don't take too long!"

I didn't walk, I ran down to the bottom floor. The children, desperate for a mother, tried to follow me, but I was too fast.

Sil's baby, however, despite being set on the floor and being told to stay put, kept up with me extremely well, following me all the way to the bowels of the ship.

It didn't take me long to find Ernie. The scent of her eggs, her cocoon slime, the moist substance secreted by her egg sac, it all drew me closer, like a perfume or a cologne, causing in me vague inhuman sexual stirrings, lusts that had little or no connection to the male or female reproductive system. I blushed, but didn't know why.

This is all to say it wasn't difficult to find the young Ss'sik'chtokiwij queen.

She lay upon a cocooned guard like he were a bedroll, , head resting upon his chest as she crooned _Come Thou Font of Every Blessing_ , caressing the rib cage where her larva doubtless stirred.

When I approached, she sat up, smiling at me. "Did you find your friends?"

"Yes. They're both alive."

"Good," she purred. "I am sorrowful that this country has lost so much of its soul that this couldn't have been handled through the courts and legislative system."

She showed me a battery powered alarm clock. "I was thinking we may be able to gauge the amount of time we spend in each other's minds, so you do not place the others in peril."

Ernie smiled and waved at Sil's baby. "Hello, little one!" Then, to me, she said, "Have you named him yet?"

"No," I replied.

" _Luke_ has a nice ring to it, don't you think? A nice biblical name."

I nodded. "That _is_ nice. _I could see him_ as a Lucas."

She sniffed the creature. "He...smells like a Pale One."

"What is a Pale One?"

"It is a type of humanoid. I have heard they are strong, but delicious."

"What are you doing?" someone said behind me.

I spun around and saw the girl in the Equality Prep School outfit, gun clenched in one hand.

"This is a friend. Her name is Ernie."

"That's a stupid name."

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij leapt in front of her with such suddenness that she flinched and raised the gun, cocking the hammer.

"I'd like to show you something neat," Ernie said, pointing to the weapon. May I?"

Before T-134 could respond, my Ss'sik'chtokiwij friend melted the barrel of her gun, rendering it useless.

The girl screamed and fled from us.

 _"You have a way with children_ ," I remarked.

With a smile, she set the clock, gesturing to a spot on the floor. "Let us begin."

I complied, making myself as comfortable as I could as I allowed her mouth tentacles to enter my brain. Luke curled himself against my breast, slowing his breathing.

I blinked, and I was somewhere else.

I lay naked in some sort of alien spacecraft, the word `home' resonating in my mind as I sat up.

Oddly enough, it _did_ feel like home, though I'd never been there before. Since we shared minds, Ernie must have known that I could never feel completely secure or relaxed anywhere on the planet earth.

Ernie lay before me, seeming to stare into my soul. "You are safe here," she said in my mind. "This is a place where no one can ever harm you, a place where secrets can be shared without being overheard by others. We are naked before each other and share everything."

She caught a flash of a memory, one about me lying to Weyland. "You seek more material for this deception."

"Yes," I said. "I wish I could have your life story, but there isn't time. I need you to show me everything you know about Ellen Ripley, the woman I was cloned from."

Ernie nodded. "I always thought you looked like a young version of Ellen. My time with her was so slight that you may view the entirety of it in less than twenty minutes."

"All right. Let's see what you can do with nine."

[0000]

* * *

DOCUMENT ID #0007410116193111 Diary of Rebecca "Newt" Jorden

* * *

[0000]

I never understood how lonely a prison could be until now.

I've spent days in this cell, months, maybe.

They've given me everything except friends. Family.

I've read all kinds of books. Mom and dad would have been proud, if they were still around.

Right now, I like _Anne of Green Gables_ , because the girl leaves an orphanage and wins her way into the hearts of an elderly farm couple that originally wanted to send her back to the orphanage.

I think if the Cuthberts met me, they'd love me too. I'm a little slimy, but I could wear gloves when I'm picking up chicken eggs and milking cows. I wouldn't hurt them.

Pillow used to come around, but now she's disappeared for a long time. Even Jen-Jen has stopped showing up.

Lady Gaga no longer reads to me. She gives me stuff every once and awhile, but it feels like when mom and dad went out on those Wildcatter expeditions and left me in the house. You're alone in this gray trailer thing for hours at a time, and now I don't even have my brother for company.

I used to think Timmy was annoying, but now I miss him like no one else.

I've played all kinds of video games, listened to whole libraries of music, church stuff on Sundays just like mom would do, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm lonely.

There's been some talk about getting me a kind of internet that they can censor before it goes out, so I can talk to real people, but that was just talk. I think they forgot about it or something.

I'd give anything to have a friend to talk to every day. Heck, I'd even talk to that big monster that killed me with her facehugger thing.

They gave me a typewriter to express my feelings. An old fashioned one like Snoopy used to write stories on top of his doghouse. I was angry at the queen for killing me, so I wrote a novel. I hear they published it under another person's name, and the Fox company is planning to make a film out of it. They're going to call it _Aliens_.

I also hear that the editor made a bunch of changes to the story, so it's pretty much not recognizable as something I wrote. For that reason, I'd rather not see what they did to it.

Lady Gaga says I'm going to be shipped into space soon, to some station called the USM Auriga, but it could be just talk again.

I'm going to play with my dolls.

[0000]

* * *

Author's note:

We're nearing the end of this story, so I can at last throw in an author's commentary. One final book, and our heroes will be where they need to be for the sequel, or rather, _sequels_.

You're probably better off thinking of Ellie 074 as a palette cleanser for Becky 075 ( _Alien Resurrection_ fanfic), Julie 076, an Avatar/Aliens crossover. These are better stories, featuring more of the Aliens characters you were probably wanting.

 _Ellie_ was supposed to build into a complicated superhero story (a reworking of a comic book I kept trying to produce in high school), but I think I'm going to let that one sit on the back burner for awhile. _Ellie_ wasn't quite as successful as I had hoped.

A large part of _Ellie_ is unfilmable, but that's okay. Any `adult film' is not, even with the ratings system, because, as long as it's done with moving pictures, a kid who can't read will stumble across it and see something he or she shouldn't. If you want something to be adult, and off limits to children, _force them to read_.

I intended this to be a reboot of _Species_ , but I doubt other people are going to see it that way.

I liked only a quarter of the _Species_ film, and included it in the Ernie timeline only because Sil was a Geiger project. After Sil came out of the cocoon in the film, things started going downhill, at least I thought so.

The problem I have with the majority of stories I've seen about the future is that I don't believe any of them will happen. _Demolition Man_ pretty well accurately depicted the upcoming future, I think, as did _Mad Max_ , but the rest of them, with their flying cars and faster than light travel - never going to happen.

So I decided to write up my own version of what _I_ think the future will be like in five to ten years. It's the kind of place where you wouldn't care if that space station from _Alien Resurrection_ crashed down and destroyed a quarter of the country.

If I were to sum up Ellie 074 in a sentence, I think I'd go with " _Left Behind_ combined with _Minority Report_ , with _Species_ and _Aliens_." Of course, every dystopia owes a debt of gratitude to Orwell's _1984_.

 _Ellie's_ opening book was inspired by a couple obscure programs, _Person's Unknown_ and _Anna to the Infinite Power_. _Persons_ definitely deserves a comeback, but _Anna_ is an acquired taste.

Xenomorphs don't scare me. Having children and raising them in the future I see ahead of me does.

With the exception of the aliens and the androids, and maybe some of the more ridiculous theme park attractions, I wholeheartedly believe that the future will look pretty much identical to the scenario you've just read. Our children are in danger.

When I was growing up, we didn't have the internet. The only way you could find porn is go to your friend's house and dig around in the boxes in his dad's garage. These days a child's innocence can be lost in a few accidental button clicks at Google. It can only get worse with increasing access to the internet around every corner.

The moment parents started letting children go in chat rooms, and put cel phones in their children's backpacks, kids have been in danger. Any creepy old pervert can contact a child with a couple clicks of the keyboard.

Regardless of what you think of gay marriage, it's a reality, and will gain increasing acceptance in all fifty states. What people don't like to think about is that what other rights people will be clamoring for afterwards. Soon we'll have pedophiles saying, "The gays have their rights, why can't we have ours?" Child molesters, cheapening the Civil Rights Movement by comparing their struggles to the likes of Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X, and bestiality could be next on the horizon. After all, animals have feelings, too.

Can I get away with saying all that in this increasingly politically correct climate? Probably not. If enough moderators cared to read this fictional tour through the bowels of hell on earth, they'd probably take away my Afexun account (read: Facebook, Twitter and the rest. `Thumbs down, you Nazi!') but for the time being, it's here for your perusal, ignore at your own peril.

Where does all this hostility against Disney come from? First of all, society continues to degrade the longer we use the TV, video games and the internet as a babysitter. I'm not a parent yet, I know it's not easy to avoid this, but when Simba from the _Lion King_ is a bigger part of your child's life than you are, you can't be too overly surprised when the kid turns out to be an asshole, a jailbird, or both. Disney just happens to be the number one brand parents choose to babysit their children.

Secondly, I've read _The Mouse Betrayed_ by Peter Schweizer, and some of the things mentioned about Disney's seamy underbelly makes my flesh crawl. I don't know how much of it is true, but, like any good first person war narrative, I made Ellie into an illustration of _what it seems like_ , with a _ring of truth_ to it, that, I can only hope, will at least make Disney re-examine itself and make damned sure those things _aren't true_. If they care to read this at all, that is.

Third, never submit anything to Disney that you don't want plagiarized. I suspect they even steal people's materials off of websites like this one, then sue the pants off of people that steal from _them_.

I'm not against copy protection, I'm against fining people for ten times the item's worth, especially if you're only `in possession' of the bootleg, or only happened to glance at it.

"What are you in for? Oh, they gave me ten years for bootlegging _Yoga Hosers_ , because I couldn't afford to pay the fines."

Disney is way too self important. They keep their videos in a vault to artificially inflate the price, when it's nothing more than a movie about Mr. Potato Head and a gay cowboy doll. You don't see any other movie houses doing this, only Disney. News flash: Your shit is not gold, it is a damn cartoon filled with potty humor and fart jokes.

Slavery: We in the United States may be the wealthiest people on the planet, but we also collectively rack up more debt than we can possibly afford to pay back, and laws keep getting made to restrict the collection of said debt, to the point where credit as we know it can no longer be extended. There can only be so many fly-by-night payday loan operations, bankruptcies, charge offs and credit defense attorneys before someone decides that enough is enough and stops the practice of extending credit in the form we currently understand it.

You hear news reports, even of people from the United States being trafficked. It happens.

Dog food: If you say you feed your dog Pedigree on a pet forum on the internet, people will try to report you for animal abuse. The authorities on the subject say that you have to buy the expensive gold flecked high protein stuff or you're being cruel to your animal. They don't care about you, or what you're going through in your life, how poor you are or what your dog looks like, they automatically assume that you are animal abusing scum and your pet is a god that you must cowtow to. They don't know the first thing about you, but they think they know exactly what you should do with your dog, or it should be taken away from you.

This was supposed to be an explanation, but it has turned into a rant. I fear this story will be flagged due to this essay, but I probably should have been flagged a long time ago for other reasons.

I only hope that someone is still reading and isn't totally pissed off or creeped out by what I wrote (the prose fiction anyway) and wants to continue following the story.

As far as the future is concerned, with any luck, I will die before most of what I've written has come to pass, and not after.


	36. Chapter 36: Negotiation

It's doubtful that anyone will find the words I just wrote, or read them. MM7 and the Corporation will probably make sure their record is stricken from whatever constitutes the web these days, the servers pressured to hide this material from anyone but those who know what they're looking for, and can afford a libel suit.

Still, I must write these words down somewhere, or go mad.

The average speaking speed of a human being is 120 words per minute. An auctioneer can double this speed, but meaning and content often gets lost.

If one word equals a byte of computer memory, that's only 0.12 kilobytes or 0.00012 megabytes.

If Ernie and I only had a _conversation_ for ten minutes, without stopping for breath, we'd _maybe_ share 1080 words, the equivalent of 0.00108th of a megabyte. A one to two hour movie is approximately 4 gigabytes. In terms of our `one word equals one byte' analogy, we'd need to say four million words to convey all the information I needed about Ripley's life.

We only had nine minutes.

Fortunately for us, our brains were _networked_ , transferring information at the speed of thought. We could send pictures, feelings, sounds and smells to each other, packets of data that arrived in our consciousness before we even knew we requested them. Or, more often than not, before we knew we didn't.

Before I could even string together the words in my mind, Ernie already knew that I wanted her to skip over her time in the Fiorina 161 prison colony, and move on to something I didn't know about. It was that fast.

The thoughts held a bias, and pain.

My first instinct had been to stretch a framework around the memories of this Ellen Ripley, try to steer it into a human perspective, but Ernie warned me against this. "We waste time. Take the memories as they are, parse them later. Your Spanish teacher told you about a `Spanish brain' one where you shut off all English thought and process the words through a Spanish lens. This is your Ss'sik'chtokiwij brain."

And so I let Ernie's memories of Ripley wash over me, letting them be as they were.

Other images flashed in between, as the mind tends to wander. I learned about the cult that killed so many on the Hadley's Hope colony, I learned about Newt, and Ernie's children. I felt my faith deepening as I witnessed my friend's Christian example.

Our mental connection ended abruptly with the sound of an alarm clock, the cacophony of men yelling in Spanish, the tossing of waves, and the hum of a boat motor.

I heard the rattling crack of machine gun fire. Explosions. I sat up with a start.

The ssujmarrux tentacles felt weird and uncomfortable crawling out of my nose.

My eyes focused the dark blur looming over me into the skeletal shape of my alien friend, then my immediate surroundings.

I lay on the sun deck of a large yacht motoring past the sinking remains of the main Disney barge, amidst several of my close friends. In the distance, I could see the Ariel, far from shore, surrounded by an armada of black boats and squadrons of helicopters.

On one side of the conflict, I saw the U.S. flag. On the other, the green and red of Mexico. Mexico appeared to be winning.

You know how they say not to bring a knife to a gunfight? That pretty much describes Disney and their American military backup. Ninety percent personnel carriers, intended for recapturing the children and wiping out our team on foot with a minimum of damage to property. Mexico had _Apaches_. With _rocket launchers_.

You can't minimize the importance of the Mexican aquatic fleet, with their LAW rifles, antiaircraft guns and hull piercing automatics. Disney fought fiercely on the open sea, but the sight of their helicopters turning into a ball of fire and dropping into the water struck a demoralizing blow. That, and the helicopter attacks on their puny little patrol boats.

Luke let out a frustrated growl in frustration as I pulled him away from my chest, setting him on the deck.

I had quite a crowd with me, much to my dismay.

Golic, his followers, and some converted children knelt next to me, wishing to be close to their god.

There was Eight (he seemed to like me for some reason), and Big Bird, still a Furby.

Lacethanny stood next to the cultists, chewing on a chicken leg.

I saw Ippi, Ssunamrozedrah and Estalix, all three of them having vested interest in me and my ability to get them into space...and Mr. Hattam, who, I'm assuming, had a vested interest in Ippi.

I flinched as water exploded south of the stern, like we had been seen and fired upon.

Weyland squatted next to me. "Relax. We're cloaked."

"What's going on?"

"I have some connections in Latin American industry. I pulled a few strings and called in military support."

"Ernie's larva was in the boat-"

"I know. I'm taking every single one of them back to my island for further study."

"What did you do with the kids? I mean, the ones that...aren't crazy."

 _"I made good on my side of the agreement_. I have a number of them loaded on the airbus, traveling back to the island as we speak. There's a _program_ for them. You may not like it, but at least they won't be abused on a whim, and never sexually."

 _"They could still die."_

He shrugged. _"We all die eventually."_

"What kind of program will they be in?"

The man frowned. "You misunderstand our relationship."

"You're not going to tell me."

He didn't reply.

"I thought you said Mexico was a dirty country."

" _It is._ But by now I'm certain you know that America isn't exactly clean."

Xavier leaned over me. "I noticed you were able to bring... _Luke_ to us alive. Is it possible for you to retrieve the others in a similar fashion?"

I glanced at Ssunamrozedrah, but she was shaking her head no.

"Where's the rest of your team?"

"Rosa and Smithson are on the Ariel. You must have impressed Mr. Lennox, because he's helping out. Ms. Baker came along, of course." He cleared his throat. "The job isn't quite finished. We have reason to believe Sil has at least one more descendant crawling around loose somewhere. We desperately need your help."

"Is this required for our passage to the island?" Ssunamrozedrah asked.

"Yes," Weyland answered.

"Explain to us why we can't just kill you and go there ourselves, without you."

"I am a useful hostage. You will find your entry to the island... _challenging._ "

"We could take you to the island, without this baby."

"I wouldn't if I were you. Again, I'm only a _piece_ of the company. You'll need to impress the board if you want to get what you're after. Anyway, you'll probably want to check the facility before it sinks. There could be parts you can use to repair your ship."

Ssunamrozedrah sighed and nodded.

"All right," I groaned. "I guess, compared to Sil, this should be a cake walk...where's Josh and Kamara?"

The two appeared from below decks, clad in matching Equality prep school uniforms. Kamara had thoughtfully drawn a line through the yellow equals sign with a shiny gold permanent marker, signifying `does not equal.'

"You can't get rid of us that easy," she said to me.

Caitlyn came up the small staircase behind them, waving at me.

"You guys shouldn't be here," I protested. "You're just going to get caught again."

" _I'm a little more devious than you give me credit for,_ " Kamara said. "Before I got transferred to the boat, a couple of our jailers met wit _mysterious accidents._ I'm not saying it was me or Josh, but we _might_ be able to take care of ourselves."

"You didn't do so well with Mr. Hampton," I argued.

"Well, I actually wanted to _study_ the man a little, you know, to see who he was connected to, and _if he had any weaknesses I could use to my advantage._ "

"Did you?" I said.

"Let's just say _I had a lot of ideas._ Even if it meant you surrendering the ship."

I gave her a scolding look. _"Or you getting your head blown open."_

"I knew you'd do the right thing. I trust you more than I've ever trusted anyone else. That's saying a lot." Her facial expression told me that she meant every word. She'd been willing to put her life in my hands without a second thought.

We motored up to the sinking theme park. Once or twice I would see a giant white muscular tentacle appear at the side of the structure, but I dismissed it as being some Pirates of the Caribbean prop gone haywire.

Weyland offered me a neoprene wetsuit and scuba gear, but I doubted I'd need either. I donned them anyway, staring at the surreal environment that lay before me.

It reminded me of videos I'd seen of the Hurricane Katrina disaster...if the Category 3 happened outside Storybook Land...German hamlets with three to six feet of water running through their streets, depending on elevation. Their version of Venice looked like, well, _nothing_ but gondolas and rooftops.

Spaceship Earth had somehow broken free from its moorings, and now slowly took in water like a trash can thrown into a swimming pool. It probably would have continued drifting along the surface of the water forever, like a discarded beach ball, if it hadn't had an open base with rides inside.

"Let's split up," Weyland said as we neared the partially submerged Haunted Mansion.

I stared at the Victorian roof with its pointy wrought iron crown pieces, wondering if Gomez Addams had been up there all day sharpening them with a file. "You want me to check here?"

The building let out a gurgling moan, like the spirits of drowned people were trying to scare me away.

"Don't tell me you're afraid of ghosts."

"No. Aren't you afraid I'll swim away?"

He laughed. "Where would you go? Even if you did manage to escape me, your _friends_ may not take too kindly to your desertion. _I hear their noses are just as good as yours."_

"And where will you be going?"

Weyland shrugged. " _Chinatown._ "

And so I wandered the flooded park.

I must have swam for hours. I actually _did_ use the diving equipment, searching this or that building that seemed to contain Sil's scent, but for the most part, the inspection was visual, as the water kept washing the traces away. I basically relied on Luke to locate his brothers and sisters.

Although ever distracted by the myriad of amusements that caught his attention, I thought for sure he would wander off, but I never had to worry about losing him. His fear of abandonment kept him paddling after me whenever I feigned to leave him.

The air mostly held Apaches now, the number of the U.S. choppers dwindling as they fell flaming into the water. I could see people being thrown from the top deck of the boat, more often white faced men in skirts rather than our brown allies. The gunshots and massive explosions, however, left the situation ambiguous, as far as who held the upper hand.

The boats, having depleted their stronger weapons, now picked away at each other with items of lesser power, prolonging the conflict.

A robotic elephant from the extinct animals exhibit drifted past me.

I found Sil's other baby floating on a four poster bed in the middle of Dinotopia. The heads of waterlogged Brachiosaurus robots moved their eyes in our direction, mutely opening their mouths as I approached the bed.

Due to Sil's unstable genetics, this baby didn't look anything like Luke. Instead, it had six hairy legs like a spider, and six eyes on its otherwise ordinary human baby face...with mandibles.

The six legs had the thickness of human baby arms, giving the impression of a complete upper torso, but the lower half was just a spider's abdomen.

Seeing Luke, the spider thing gave me a hopeful look that meant, `Are you my new mommy?'

I smiled and held the creature, trying to ease it into the water so it could swim with us, but it was too afraid, so I just paddled the bed along like a boat.

A fiberglass Dumbo, still attached to a ride, poked its head out of the water, making him look like a novice swimmer trying to get that last desperate gulp of air before sinking for the last time.

Feeling my wetsuit vibrating, I unzipped and pulled out the phone, praying it was waterproof.

When I pushed talk, I found Weyland's face staring at me. In the background of the man's image, I could see only a wall wrapped in Flexo prints of a pixellated brick pattern. "Find anything?"

"Yeah. Where are you?"

"The Nintendo area. I think one of the babies is hiding in a _secret warp zone._ "

"Be over in a few."

I towed the bed through Wonderland, which now resembled that scene in the story where Alice cries and floods the building, giant teacups, saucers and fiberglass animals drifting around in the murky water, awaiting the caucus race and `dry stories.' I shoved a floating dodo aside and kept moving.

The phrase "Mad as a hatter" comes from the mercury poisoning that once came with the craft of hat making. As a giant hat with the card reading 10/6 drifted past me, I absently pondered the meaning of this, and why it was never mentioned in any of the stories, and how this hat couldn't possibly have the correct measurement.

Tweedledum had gone solo, taking on the appearance of a fishing bobber in the water.

I crossed into a new zone, wading past brown-white Super Mario Goombas, upside down turtles, and an Italian plumber in green overalls floating face down.

Half submerged capsule shaped buildings with smiley faces on them, enormous mushrooms and modular trees, all mired in flood water...The debris conjured up images of a larger than life jumping and stomping adventure gone awry.

Our yacht had been tied to the corner of a stylized cartoony looking pipeworks, fake olive green plastic plumbing of varying shapes and sizes poking out of a pixel block cube. Plastic blocks wrapped with 8-bit brick patterns, question marks and the word `POW' drifted around the yacht like mines.

I saw _some_ of my associates, but Ssunamrozedrah, Estalix, Xavier, Lacethanny and some of Golic's gang were missing, presumably still out searching for the babies or ship parts.

Eight, looking ridiculous in neoprene, waded around the pipeworks with his HK 91 and a blowtorch, peering into the open tubes with annoyance. "It's not coming out. I'm going to seal off these pipes and drop a grenade inside. Would you mind standing on the other side to make sure it doesn't escape?"

Then, noting how bad that sounded, I guess, he added, "I'm serious. I think it will try to run out before I can kill it. You think you can do that and not get hurt?"

"Wait. You don't need to kill it."

I approached the piece of faux digital landscape, peering in a pipe.

The baby bared its fangs at me, then sniffed and wiggled into the light.

A long and snake-like body, rather like an ermine, in a way. Instead of fur, it had plates covered in something like quills, making it resemble one of those bristly things you use to clean the blinds and ceiling fans with. It had a humanoid feline face, no nose.

"Come to me," I said, spreading my arms wide.

The creature gave a mewling whimper, then jumped into my arms so suddenly that I thought it intended to attack me.

Instead, it just nuzzled against me and purred.

Weyland applauded me from the deck. "Terrific work, Ellen. I'm very proud of you."

He gestured to the boat. "C'mon. It's time to go."

"Wait. What about the others?"

"Don't worry. We won't leave without them."

We did not immediately leave for the island. Instead, we took the yacht to the warehouse, to see about the spaceship repairs.

Sil's babies had hissed and pressed close to me when they first met my friends, but after awhile they relaxed a bit, and I didn't have to scold them any.

While on the yacht, they _seemed_ ready to attack the humans, but Xavier, thinking quickly, had provided them with some raw meat from the freezer, and they appeared to lose their murderous tendencies.

The Yautja vehicle contained repair machinery, but they had to patch up sections of the hull with metal from the cargo containers and a neighboring scrapyard.

The damage hadn't been entirely external, so they also had to replace equipment, and when it couldn't be replaced with spares from the hold, using the ship's battered computer to determine how to create an effective substitute. Big Bird and Mara worked together on that part, recovering information from circuits and chips so broken that Ssunamrozedrah had given up on them.

It took a long time, but our mission had been accomplished, so to speak, so we had the luxury.

I had nothing to contribute to this project, and even if I had a useful skill and _could_ facilitate the repairs, I wouldn't have volunteered. In fact, being in no rush to get back, I even unplugged a few cables when no one was looking.

I climbed to the top of a stack of cargo containers, gazing out at the ocean as I contemplated my future.

A warm comfortable breeze wafted in from the southeast. Sil's babies huddled around me, so calmed by my presence that they drowsed against my body.

More than anything, I wanted to see the Homeschooler colonies, where people of the faith still existed, without a computerized Big Brother watching me all the time, but would they accept these alien babies?

Would they even accept _me_ , once they found out I wasn't all human?

But what could I do? Go back to that horrible island with all its schemes and deadly traps?

I couldn't just stay in America, either. I'd never fit in.

I curled into a ball, sobbing into my arms until Sil's babies whimpered and cried along with me.

You have to be a woman now, I told myself, taking several deep breaths.

"We _have_ to get to that ship," I said, more to comfort myself than the babies. "If we can just get into _space_ , get to _Pillow's planet_ , or _Ernie's..._ "

I petted and cuddled the babies, held each to my chest. "We'll find a way off this God forsaken rock. You'll see."

The breeze shifted direction, mingling the salt tang of the sea with the vile odors of death and war. Gunpowder, the overpowering chemical smells of burning rubber, plastic, paint and metallic compounds, the porcine whiff of roasting human flesh.

The Ariel was sinking. Disney had called in reinforcements, and they had driven the Mexicans back. Things didn't look good.

"The airbus was cloaked," Kamara said as she climbed up to join me. "We managed to fit more than a hundred of them in there, depositing them into temporary housing at the Phyxo complex until we can figure out what to do with them. We've since smuggled in about four hundred more. The whole building's on lockdown to make sure none of the brats run out. Their chips are being recoded so Disney can't find them."

"Sounds like a madhouse," I muttered.

"You'd be surprised how well behaved a kid can be when you threaten to take them back to the people that abused them."

"There were more than five hundred on that ship."

"We have a _submarine_. Our magician friend did a few tricks and made it disappear, with a few hundred more onboard. We've also got a Disney boat, _which we used to make a few hundred more vanish._

"The rest, well, we got them to either swim to shore (a lot of them got caught that way, they were basically a distraction) or climb into the storage containers to await our sub to rescue them from the bottom of the Strait."

"That last one doesn't sound safe."

"They're all unsafe, but the containers were designed to hold quote-unquote `valuable' Disney memorabilia. Once we tossed out all those prints and DVD's, we had a roomy airtight sort of diving bell."

"Or a coffin."

" _Maybe._ The point is, this only _looks_ like a defeat."

I stared into my friend's eyes. "Have you been... _hurt? By those men?_ "

" _Raped_ , you mean."

I gave her a look that said, _"Well? Were you?"_

Kamara shook her head. "I guess I lucked out. _Some of those other girls, though..._ "

"What about Josh?"

"No," the boy said as he climbed up to join us. "A guy _tried_ , but I shot his ass full of drugs. Literally. I got hell of a beating when they found his dead body, but it was worth it. They didn't mess with me on the upper deck."

It was then that I noticed the welts around his neck, the bruises along the back of his arms.

The two kids held hands.

"Estalix is still looking for his _Qorkuce_ ," Kamara said. _"He says you might have it._ "

I pretended not to hear.

She cleared her throat. "You know, there's a bible verse that says something like `When I was a child, I thought like a child and reasoned like a child, but when I became an adult, I put aside those childish things.' I'm not sure I phrased it correctly, but..." She held out her hand.

With a sigh, I handed over the chunk of metal.

I glanced at her bandages. "You think you'll ever use your Afexun account again?"

"Why?" she laughed. _"You want it?"_

I just stared at her. "You're not going to use it anymore?"

" _It's just a tool,_ Ellie." Then she smirked. "Plus you lose points if you do things like this..."

She kissed Josh full on the mouth.

When she pulled away, Josh gasped, "I think I _like_ losing points!"

"Do me a favor," I said. "Keep it innocent. Save the adult stuff for when you're actually adults."

"We'll try," Kamara said.

She smiled and dragged the boy down to the warehouse.

I tried to take solace in the ocean view, like before, but the sights of the battle, the sinking boat, and the things Kamara had discussed with me had caused my thoughts to become unquiet. I gave it up and climbed back down to the ground.

I flinched as I saw Eight approaching.

"Mrs. Hannigan is looking for you," he said. And then, in a way that seemed more than a little melodramatic, " _I've_ been looking for you too."

"You...have?" I stammered with discomfort.

The smile he gave me seemed unnatural on his bulldog face. I squirmed at the thought of what he might want. "I just wanted to say that you're an amazing fighter, and I like you a lot. And I'm not saying that just because you're sexy looking."

I cringed, at a loss for how to respond.

"Sorry. I'm...not good at this kind of thing. I just wanted to say, you know, that you were, well, amazing. The combat, the skill you have with animals...very, uh, _cool_."

"Uh, thanks."

I could guess what he might want to ask me next, but something more important had to be put on the table. "Did you kill my parents?"

"I shoot a lot of people."

I hated him for saying that, but I realized that this actually came out of my own self loathing.

He must have noticed my furious glare, for then he blurted, "What did they look like?... _Your parents..._ "

Holding back the angry tears, I described them to him.

He sighed, looking... _almost apologetic_. " _That was Sixteen._ I only cut off the alien lady's tail."

"Eight, that doesn't exactly make you much better than the other guy."

"It's _Eleven_ ," he said with a bashful expression. "Look. I know it's not the best excuse to say that I was only following orders, but I was afraid of what would happen to me if I disobeyed the boss. I think you know what _that_ feels like."

I didn't answer because I did. I just didn't want to admit it.

"I guess that's a `no' on going out, huh?"

"I'm sorry. I'm not really comfortable with that."

"With me? Or dating in general?"

I couldn't do this anymore. I got away from him in a hurry.

"There you are!" Susan said as I turned the corner.

I stopped in my tracks, trying to formulate an appropriate excuse.

"What you did was very dangerous," she scolded. "With all that running around you've been doing, I'm surprised you haven't completely pulled your sutures and died by now. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to examine you, just to make sure everything is still fine."

I fidgeted nervously. "You're not going to cut me open, are you?"

 _"Actually, I have something a little more sophisticated in mind."_

The Yautjas had a medical station off to one side of the bridge, and Mrs. Hannigan somehow understood enough about it to make it work.

It did not look like a place in which one would receive healing or medical services. The aliens kept supplies in unmarked metal cabinets, and everything looked pretty much like everything else, except for the labels, row upon row of rectangular metal containers the size and shape of a box of spaghetti and stacks of smaller silver objects that appeared, at first glance, to be foil wrapped packs of cigarettes with the labeling removed.

The examination table, if it could be described as such, hadn't been designed for comfort, a spartan piece of metal furniture with no padding, suitable, I suppose, for a patient with a stoic bent, and a tough spinal column. They also had a scary thing that looked like a dentist's chair. I still couldn't decide if this were a place of medicine, or torture and interrogation.

Mrs. Hannigan told me to lay down on that...sheet of metal, taking out a tiny robotic thing that looked like a cross between a shrimp and a robotic silverfish.

I eyed the device with suspicion. "What's that?"

She took out a small green device that, at first glance, appeared to be a Tiger Electronics handheld game, but with a complicated array of alien buttons and switches. "It's...a diagnostic tool. It's non invasive. I've tested it on the dead Yetiyeehah and a German Shepherd. I was actually able to perform microsurgery and remove small cancerous masses from the dog's prostate."

I gawked at her. " _So it's not dangerous._ "

"It's as dangerous as an MRI or a CT scan. The worst thing about it is the sensation of the thing crawling down your throat, but I've gotten some practice steering it around the uvula, so that should spare you the stomach upset.

"A smaller bug comes out of it, about the size of a blood cell. I still don't understand why the antibodies don't attack it."

"Did you use that thing when you operated on my heart?"

"No, I just learned how to use it a few hours ago. I didn't know I'd be curing Max of cancer until I found the little tumors. Ordinarily you have to wait for them to get larger, and either remove the whole organ or blast the prostate with radiation, but with this thing I just sort of _dissolved them._ "

I still felt nervous about this. "And you just learned by trial and error?"

"The device is a little like Pillow's _Rukbasomething_ , which I have extensive training in, and there's a computer program, so I wasn't completely in the dark. Plus I had people helping me."

Thinking about the dog, I said, "Has your... _tool_ been sterilized?"

"Naturally. I _am_ a medical professional."

I laid down and let her drop the squirming machine down my throat.

 _"There was an old lady who swallowed a spider,_ " Susan muttered as she pushed buttons on the handheld. " _It wiggled and jiggled and tickled inside her._ "

Sil's babies, well, I guess, _my babies_ now, appeared to be attached to me, refusing to leave my presence, even for a moment. They laid against me as the machine crawled down my throat, Luke resting on my breast. "Are they going to interfere with the...scans?"

"I...don't think so."

"Do I need to breathe a certain way or anything?"

Sue shook her head. "Just relax."

Eleven, who had been watching me, gestured to my `adopted children'. "You, uh, think you might need to _breastfeed_ these things sometime?"

I grimaced in disgust. "Ugh! Go away!"

When he didn't leave, I made shooing motions.

At last he did, looking a little ashamed and disappointed.

"You generally need to give birth before you can lactate," Susan said. " _If you're human,_ that is. Have you ever given birth?"

"No."

She chuckled. "We can try some infant formula."

"I saw them eating meat."

"Well, I don't know if that's good for them, or what nutrients they might be getting, or still lacking. I don't think it would hurt to try some formula, if only to supplement their diet." She continued working with the scanner.

Mr. Weyland, who had previously been rubbing his eyes and muttering about blurry vision, walked up to the table, staring over Susan's shoulder at me. "Sil's babies seem quite taken with you. Do you see raising them as part of your long term goals?"

I glared at the man. He separates me from my parents and then kills them as part of some stupid test, and yet he still talks to me like we're friends. "Why does it matter? You didn't let Pillow raise hers."

"That was different. She had a _man_. Regardless of what I decide to do, I want to know what _your_ intentions are."

"What, so you can use them as a bargaining chip?"

"Ellen. What I want to know is if _a young woman like yourself, who just got her first taste of freedom_ , seriously intends to saddle herself down with three kids from your enemy's loins."

I gave him a skeptical look. "Are you volunteering to take them off my hands?"

He shrugged. " _Only if you want me to._ "

I just stared at him speechlessly.

" _I know. Children are a lot of responsibility. I've had three of them myself._ It's not an easy decision."

Honestly, I didn't want them. It _was_ too much responsibility. And I wanted to escape from all his missions and games and schemes. The man _had_ been at least partially responsible for my parents' deaths, ad forgiving that was hard.

But on the other hand, the creatures were starved for affection, and I was the only `mommy' with the guts and the armor plating to be an adequate mother to them.

"Think about it. Let me know what you decide."

"You wouldn't...kill them, would you?"

He shook his head. "I'd much rather keep them for study, possibly see what applications I can find for them."

" _Military_ applications. _As soldiers._ "

He only had to give me a look, and I knew that was the objective. "If you can keep them docile, you have my word that they won't be harmed."

It depends on how you define harm, I thought with a frown. "I'll have to give this some thought."

"Take all the time you need."

"Where's Thonwa?"

For a moment, Weyland gave me a blank look, then..."The flying ladybug?" He paused. "We have her in cold storage, in the basement of the Phyxo building. We'll transport her back to the island once these children have been situated."

"I want to see her."

"I'm sorry. That's not a good idea. We need to keep a low profile or Disney Corporate will find us. It's difficult enough to stay off MM7's radar as it is. Plus, the creature's life is in a delicate balance right now. We don't want any contamination or temperature changes until we begin medical procedures."

"Why did you kill my parents?"

" _You're_ the one that killed them, Ellen. You were ordered to do something, and you failed to do it."

I sat up and punched him in the face.

As he held his bloody nose, I snarled, " _You failed to get out of the way._ "

Susan scowled at the device, then at me. "Please, lay still. You're jostling the spider."

She shot Weyland an apologetic glance. "She's probably cranky because of all the stress and not resting enough. Hold your nose shut, that should stop the bleeding."

I did what Mrs. Hannigan asked and laid back down.

"You still need me to get back to the island," Weyland said as he followed the woman's instructions, his voice taking on a nasal quality that was almost humorous.

"Do I?" I said. "Because I think you're just saying that to everyone so they won't kill you. Mr. Yutani is dead. As far as I can tell, _you're running the show._ "

He dabbed his nose with a cloth. "That's where you're wrong. If you don't believe me, ask anyone on the island about The Rook."

"That's just a meaningless symbol you made up to confuse people. You put it in places for me to see, to think I have some friend on the outside. It's just a shell game, and I'm not playing it."

He looked like he were about to argue the contrary.

"You're the head of the biggest robotics company in the world. I've seen your symbol on every android I've ever encountered since we left the island. _Your name. Your symbol._ Half of them are modeled with _your face._ "

Blood trickled down his lip as he let go of his nose. "You're confusing the company with the _bank_. You know nothing about DAMBALLAH. The tail of the snake is not the snake itself." He pinched his nostrils shut again. "I'd expect much more gratitude from you, considering how I just saved your whole army of brats from a rather unpleasant imprisonment. Now, if you'll excuse me, _my nose is gushing blood._ "

As he walked away, I felt a sinking in the pit of my stomach.

What if Weyland _really was_ only a pawn? If so, who was in charge?

And how could I defeat an enemy I didn't even know?

"God," Susan murmured as she stared at the screen. "It doesn't even look like the same heart."

"Are the sutures still in there?"

Susan frowned. " _They are_ , but it looks like you've had them in there for _weeks!_ I think you must have _angels_ watching over you."

"That's great. Are you done yet?"

She sighed. "I need to get that... _thing_ out of you. Be just a minute."

Susan nearly gagged me getting the machine back out.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have hurried it so much. Still, I've done worse. Maxy left a mess on the floor when I was done with him."

Seeing a white Ss'sik'chtokiwij larva chewing a rib bone on the floor, I got up off the table, approaching her. "Is it true what they said? Did you just basically wander around and eat?"

"Well," Lacethanny said. "I did try to look, but I couldn't find anything, so I got a good look at all the neat things and ate until I was stuffed."

Before I could properly react, I found myself being slammed into a wall, with a knife pressed against my throat.

An angry mouse-like face breathed heavily into mine, body hair tickling my skin in itchy ways.

"You gleenzagteb with us, Ss'sik'chtokiwij bitch? Throw a little monkey wrench into the works so we can hang out in this little shithole for a few more hours?"

I swallowed and lied to her. "No."

The blade pressed deeper. "I think you lie to me. I think you lie like that dead Christian princess I used to impersonate. Your religion is a crock of shit. How about we find out how deeply I cut your neck before that steaming acid blood actually starts gushing? I bet I can get a pretty good flow going before it starts burning me!"


	37. Chapter 37: Coma

The barrel of a pistol suddenly pressed itself against my attacker's temple. "Touch not the anointed one, or I shall strike thee down with the weapon of the human cattle."

Golic.

Ippi didn't budge.

The longhair clicked back the hammer of his .44 Magnum. "Put not the Lord to the test!"

Rolling her eyes, Ippi raised her hands in the air, letting the knife drop to the floor.

One of Golic's young converts snatched the weapon away.

"Where's your boyfriend?" I asked the Abreya.

" _Bottomiller_ , you mean?" She let out a barking laugh. " _Please!_ We are _not_ an item!" She snapped her tail like a cat. "The last I saw of that _wusu_ , he was helping those children escape."

She must have noticed my slightly skeptical expression, for her tail snapped again. "Okay, so he's not all bad, but he's still not my boyfriend. I'm not some stupid Christian princess."

"Who is this princess you keep talking about?"

"She's no one," Ippi sighed. "Just someone I thought was my friend, but actually wasn't. The dumb bitch was always asking me to get her feminine products and sex toys because she was too chickenshit and prissy to get them herself. You remind me a lot of her." She stomped away.

"The priestess intercessor humbles herself, and does not avenge the insult done to her, awaiting the time of judgment," Golic said to his followers.

"Iyya Shasharmazorb," the cult replied, bowing to me in worship. Even the children.

"Stop," I said. "You can stop that right now. I needed that devotion on the boat, but that was only because I needed people to fight my enemies. You're really annoying me. Please, worship Jesus and God. They're much worthier, and won't get annoyed at you worshiping them. Thanks for helping me, though."

"Is this a test?" asked one of the worshipers.

"Nay," Golic answered. "She wishes us to understand that she is a mere prophet of Shasharmazorb. She answers to a higher power, as should we."

"Iyya Shasharmazorb," the cultists answered, rising to their feet.

They got back on the floor when they saw Ernie approaching.

"Arise," she told them. "For I too am mortal."

They did not.

"Another test!" one of them said.

She groaned, facing me. "Have you named your two new adoptions yet?"

I stared at the spider thing and the narrow weasel looking baby. "Not...yet. Got any suggestions?"

We ended up naming the spider Matthew and the prickly ermine Mark.

"The book of John came last chronologically," Ernie explained. "Years elapsed between it and the other books. It's appropriate."

I blushed. "You mean, when I have one of my own, I'll have a complete set."

Ernie grinned.

"How are yours doing? I mean, the new ones."

"In cold storage at the Phyxo building, I'm afraid. Larva doesn't hatch in an hour." She raised a little metal watch attached to her arm. "They call this a `baby beeper.' I'll know exactly when my larva is hatched, and maybe even be able to talk to it. Isn't that exciting?"

"It's kinda scary and exciting," I admitted.

The slimy face smiled. "That's exactly how I feel. _So much responsibility._ "

That wasn't exactly what `scary' I meant, but I let her think what she wanted.

Ernie never went anywhere without that old RSV bible. "Do you want to have bible study?"

"Uh, sure," I said.

Mrs. Hannigan, who had been watching us, suddenly spoke up. "Could you do that around the examination table? Ellie's bullet wound needs to be treated before it gets infected."

While Sue stitched me up, we did a study from Galatians. The passage from 1:6-9 cut both ways, a warning to us not to distort the gospel, amidst our growing cult, and a condemnation of others that already made a practice of it.

Golic's people sat around us, listening in rapt attention, like we were gurus, but I doubted their minds were prepared for something so... _ordinary_ , at least not the way it was originally intended.

All the deaths weighed heavily on my heart, so I broached the subject. "I don't like killing people. I feel bad for doing it."

Ernie nodded. "It is a hard thing to do, but a just and moral one if lives are truly at stake. I have slain my own kin for the sake of others I loved and wished to protect."

"Do you ever get over the guilt?"

She sighed. "You're forgiven, but the memories of the killing do not go away. It is a burden that must be endured. It pains me that so much death had to be caused today, but I also understood the need. I do not wish to see any child being abused or murdered. They are precious to me."

The murmurs I heard from Golic's cult indicated that this would soon be dogma, written in stone.

Noting my glum expression, Ernie hugged me. "The Lord forgives you, child."

"I know. It's still..."

She nodded.

When my `doctor' said it was safe, I got up, examining the ship.

Mara the humanoid cat robot sat on the floor next to a control console, with cords plugged into her positronic brain.

Glancing back to make sure Weyland was still out of earshot and holding his nose, I muttered to her, "You were...on planet LV 426, weren't you?"

The robot blinked at me, as if waking from a dream. "Correct. How did you acquire this information?"

Unsure how far I could trust her, I simply said, "A friend told me."

She smiled. "I have always thought of Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik as my daughter."

The android fell silent, band passing with her eyeballs like a television.

I found Shasharmazorb and Estalix at work repairing an air conduit. "Guys, I'm sorry I... _delayed you_. It's just...I really don't think you understand how dangerous it is in that place. You're not going to be able to waltz in, grab your grandmother and get out."

Shasharmazorb didn't turn from the repairs. "That's why you're going to accompany us. To alert us to the dangers."

"I enjoy a challenge," said Estalix.

"That isn't good enough. There's a reason why your grandmother is still living there and not outside in the world. They know Ss'sik'chtokiwij and their weaknesses. If what Mr. Weyland said is true, then him being hostage isn't going to help anything. He's just a rung on the totem pole."

I had to explain what a totem pole was. They didn't get it.

"Are you familiar with the layout of the island?" Ssunamrozedrah asked.

"Yes." But then I reconsidered. "No. I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know!" she growled, stopping her work. "Either you do or you don't!"

"It's not that simple. Everything looks the same. They kept me in the dark most the time. I only know a couple places really well, and I don't know the first thing about getting to them, or leaving."

Ssunamrozedrah let out a low rumbling growl. " _I see._ Any suggestions about... _approaching_ this island?"

I shrugged. "Don't use the front door. Don't go to the airport where all the planes and helicopters come in. Other than that, I don't know. Your grandmother is under a hospital. Don't ask me which one, I used a tunnel to get there. Maybe you should just try to find a hospital and land there."

Ssunamrozedrah growled again, but Estalix snapped something back in his own tongue, then, in Ss'sik'chtokiwij, he added, "The one known as Kamara informs me that she has intimate knowledge of the area. The man Eleven appears to know something as well. And plus we have the Weyland and Xavier to provide _their_ insight."

"Sounds like we have a fair bit of intel," I muttered with some disappointment.

Ssunamrozedrah muttered something else to her companion, returning to their work.

Big Bird's Furby body had been plugged into a nearby computer terminal. Her eyes followed me as I walked past. "I was the one who made all the screens in the park showed damaging information about Mr. Mendoza earlier...Did you like the song? It has a deep personal significance for me.

" _`There's none so blind as those who will not see, and to those who lack the courage, and think it's dangerous to try, well they just don't know that love eternal will not be denied.'_ That is a very spiritual lyric, don't you think?"

"Um...sure," I agreed.

"The song also says, _`My arms will close around you and protect you with the truth.'_ If you interpret these statements as being said by God, they appear to be biblical in nature. It is not logical for a human being to state that his or her love is eternal if the duration of their life rarely exceeds seventy or eighty years, so by simple deduction this statement would be a reference to divinity, would it not?"

"I don't know. Maybe you're overthinking it."

"It was an important feature in my near death experience. For that reason alone, it requires extensive analysis."

I shrugged. "Then good luck figuring it out...Anyways, thanks for helping me out."

Big Bird smiled.

I found a small figure in an Equality uniform crying in the corner of the warehouse.

Caitlyn curled in a ball, tears flowing down her cheeks as she gazed at a doll that looked like one of her mothers, labeled `Pat.' The doll had a rounded figure, button nose, black and purple hair, skimpy silver outfit.

"They didn't tell me until now," she sobbed. "It's that fucking Sil person! If you hadn't been so busy chasing that damned woman, my mother would have lived! But no, you couldn't just let her run free! You _had_ to meddle with things, and now Mother's dead!"

I stretched out an arm to console her, but she yelled, "Don't touch me! This is all your fault!"

"How is this my-"

She grabbed me in a fierce grip, punched me, then pressed her face against me as she cried into my chest. "It's not fair! It's not!"

Sobs and incoherent emotional mumbling followed.

I gently stroked her hair, thinking I'd become a mother without first experiencing any sort of full romantic relationship.

Once she'd drenched my clothing with her tears, I heard her muttering, "You've got a bullet hole in your clothes."

"I know."

I held her, allowing her to calm down some more. "Thanks for helping me stop Sil. I know you...didn't like how things turned out, hell, _I_ don't like how it turned out, but I'm glad you helped us finally put an end to all this."

She wiped her eyes, staring up into mine. "You didn't have a choice, did you?"

I shook my head. "They made me do this mission against my will, but I understand why it needed to be done."

" _Containment."_

"What?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I heard Mr. Weyland saying something about containment."

"How did you get into the sewers like that? When you made your appearance on that platform?"

"There are manholes all over the park. People don't poo on themselves as much as you think."

"How did you find me?"

"It wasn't that hard. You were blowing up everything in the park. There were cameras and stuff. _Drones_. Plus that fat friend of yours is _psychic._ He had a _hunch_ you'd be coming that way, and Xavier thought we should try to trap Sil in the sewer. After your friends got kidnapped, I stayed with the team and did what they said."

"How'd you escape the explosion?"

"Your alien friends are _fast_. Shasharmazorb rushed me up a floor, into some kinda heavy duty locker. I think some of the other people had grappling hooks or something. I know _Zack_ did...will you be my mommy?"

I stared at her, feeling a lump rising in my throat. "Those are _big shoes to fill_...How about I just...be your _big sister_ for now, and see where that leads us."

She grinned. "You're afraid of kissing Brenda, aren't you?"

"I don't kiss other mommies on the lips."

"You'd be a good one." She promptly fell asleep on my chest.

Xavier brought me blankets and a pillow. "I can't thank you enough for stopping my creation. My whole team owes you a debt of gratitude. Would you like to speak to them?"

I nodded.

After carefully wrapping the girl in blankets and propping her head up with the pillow, I took Xavier's phone, greeting my teammates.

The first face greeting me on the screen was Mr. Lennox's. "Heyy! _Demolition woman_! Nice job stopping Sil!"

"Thanks," I murmured. "How are the kids?"

"They're fine. The ones that got away, at least. They had to do CPR on a few kids they had in those storage containers, but we only lost two. The rest are happy and alive...did you get all the babies?"

 _`We only lost two,'_ I thought. _`Only.'_ I swallowed, giving him a nod.

"They're not ripping people's faces off, are they?"

"No, they've been fed."

" _So they're okay as long as they eat._ That's good to know."

"I'm going to Weyland's island. Do you want to come along?"

Press laughed. " _Noo_. Thank you, I've had enough of brats and space aliens. I'd rather stick to straightforward bounty hunting from now on."

Laura, however, seemed to have other ideas. She took the phone from him. "I admit the situation was _stressful_ , but extraterrestrial life still fascinates me."

Press sighed. "I guess not all aliens are bad...I'd just rather not run into the ones that are."

"Are you okay?" I asked the woman. "With your injuries, it didn't look like a good idea for you-"

"I'm good. _Press had my back._ I was below deck most the time anyway...we're going to have a memorial service for Mr. Arden. I was wondering if you wanted to come."

"I...I don't think I can. I mean, there's something I have to take care of first. I don't think we're going to meet again."

She sighed and nodded. "Well, good luck. Hope it turns out in your favor, whatever you're doing."

She stepped out of view, and Rosa appeared on the monitor. "You did good, _chica_. Those bastards really got what was coming to them."

I glanced at her in discomfort. "So you think the children are in good hands now?"

She nodded. " _The best._ "

I eyed her companion. "And what do you think about all this, Mr. Smithson?"

"I'm just glad all that killing is over. That whole boat made me sick, and it wasn't the sea." He paused. " _I also got proposed to._ "

Rosa squeezed his hand. " _He said yes._ "

" _Congratulations_."

"We're trying to find her a different line of work," Press said off camera.

Next Zack made an appearance, flashing his teeth. "You did a great job. A couple times I thought you wouldn't make it, but you're a smart girl."

He kept grinning.

The rest of his face vanished, leaving just his pearly whites.

"Show off," Press said.

The repairs took a lot less time than you'd think. It was all those advanced alien devices.

In fact, as I was asking Mrs. Hannigan if she could open a communication channel with Pillow, Ssunamrozedrah announced we were ready to go.

I hoped we could leave someone behind in the relative safety of the warehouse, but everyone wanted to come with.

The core team, of course, consisted of me, Ippi, Kamara, Ssunamrozedrah, Estalix and Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, with Weyland and possibly Xavier as hostages.

I had everyone that had attached themselves to me, Matthew, Mark, Luke and Caitlyn. Josh was there for Kamara, but I could still kinda tell he still cared for me, if only as a big sister.

Ernie, of course, had her devotees, and Lacethanny, because she's technically family.

Mrs. Hannigan had other business to attend to at the Phyxo building, so she stayed behind, as did Smithson and Rosa, since those two were busy running the world's largest daycare center. Press and Laura, of course, had Arden's funeral plans.

To ensure a solid interface, Mara uploaded her cybernetic consciousness into the computer, allowing Big Bird to use her body for awhile, her Furby shell tucked carefully into one of the storage compartments.

As our ship rose into the air, soaring over the wreck that remained of the Disney barge, I got my first and final look at the tentacled thing that had wrapped itself around the boat.

It was the monster I'd seen in the bottom of the well in Learning Town.

This was no mere theme park robot. I could see the gaping hole where I had stabbed it in the eye.

And then we were gone.

The so-called `spaceship' wasn't really space ready, nor, it seemed, would it ever be. We basically had an invisible VTOL airplane, a fast vehicle that would probably break up like the _Columbia_ the moment you tried to take it through the atmosphere. Still, the speed was impressive. We zoomed past the Mexican Strait In a matter of minutes, soaring above the jungles of South America.

It wasn't hard to get back to the island. Both Weyland and Xavier could locate the coordinates easily enough. The approach was the problem.

The island had the shape of a half moon, with beaches around the outside and oddly deciduous forests and desert wastes covering the rest of the landmass, pockmarked with buildings in little clearings. With the exception of a few helicopters, it seemed harmless from the distance.

"Where is this `hospital' you speak of?" Ssunamrozedrah asked me.

"You'll have to be more specific," Weyland said. "There's _several_ on the island."

I frowned. "But none that can cure brain cancer, I'm guessing."

"Correct. _For now_. However, that mechanical shrimp Mrs. Hannigan used _could be_ a game changer."

"Speaking of games, which hospital holds Ernie's grandmother?"

"That would be _Core_ , if the Board hasn't decided to relocate her for tactical exercises."

I narrowed my gaze. "What kind of tactical exercises?"

He didn't answer the question. "I strongly advise against flying over Core. The object scanners are highly sophisticated and the antiaircraft weaponry will pick off this craft in a matter of seconds."

"Our devices make us invisible to radar and other types of scans," Ssunamrozedrah argued.

"You're welcome to _try_ , but don't say I didn't warn you. _We've adapted several alien technologies..._ " He let that last statement hang, pregnant with meaning.

"What would _you_ suggest?"

"Your best bet is to land on the _southern tip_ , along the White Zone, work your way up from Gold to Black. While military units are _Geese. Trainees_."

I scowled at him. "How can we trust what you say?"

He shrugged. " _You can't._ "

Where's the airport?"

"We have _four._ "

"Is there a `back area' where you don't have an airport?"

"No. There's one for each cardinal direction, with the exception of the White Zone on the southern tip."

 _"We should try our luck with the Geese_ ," Kamara agreed.

Growling softly, Ssunamrozedrah brought the craft in lower, flitting across a long sandy beach where soldiers jogged past a pair of tanks and a cluster of jeeps with mounted machine guns.

"We're being hailed," Mara's disembodied voice said through the ship's audio system. "All major aircraft frequencies."

The voice of a gruff sounding male broke in. "Black Boar to unidentified craft, you are in violation of our DAMBALLAH airspace. We are aware of your location. Reply with authorization and land at the designated zone. You have five minutes to answer, or we will open fire."

The voice repeated itself.

"Put me through," Weyland said.

I heard a bleep. "The channel is open," Mara said.

Weyland cleared his throat. "This is Gold Horse, authorization D9192680. Pretty wench NA tag `Chinatown.' Request sand trap."

"What does all that mean?" I asked him.

Weyland didn't answer, because he was on the channel, but Eleven took me aside and muttered, "Pretty wench means a new vehicle. New- _ish_. He just named it the `Chinatown.'"

"And what's the sand trap?"

He glanced nervously at Weyland. "Ground landing in a secure zone. It's unorthodox."

"Copy that, Gold Horse," the voice on the radio answered. "Request denied."

Something very loud and thunderous rocked the ship, throwing debris across the compartment. The floor tilted at an angle as the acrid fumes from burning equipment filled the chamber in big black clouds.

Two children and a tall pair of cult members collapsed to the floor with shrapnel sticking out of their bodies.

"Authorization Delta Niner One Niner 2680!" Weyland barked. "I have clearance from Blue ox! Operation J7T1!"

"Blue Ox is dead," the voice answered coldly. "You have disobeyed protocol, Gold Horse."

On one of the few working monitors, I could see the souped up 88 MM Flaks shelling us from a sand dune.

Giant sparks leapt from equipment, some of it catching on fire.

Estalix grabbed Weyland by the throat, lifting him into the air. "Your value to us as a hostage has been greatly diminished! Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you right now!"

Weyland somehow managed to respond with an amused smirk. "I'd think finding a way to safely land this craft should be your first priority."

Noting how Ssunamrozedrah was already busy at the controls, he growled, "That is being taken care of. It will only take half a second to separate your head from the rest of your body."

In a choking breath, Weyland answered, "This head, _that you so eagerly want to detach_ , contains information of vital importance to your little rescue mission."

"He's right," I said. "Let him go."

With a look of disgust, Estalix dropped him on the floor.

A second after he did this, I heard Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik crying, "Lacethanny! Dear Lord, she has fallen out!"

Golic beat his breast. "Shasharmazorb's beloved daughter! A sign of wrath from our goddess! Bow with your faces to the ground, and pray that this passes us! For if she spares not her own offspring...!"

"Iyya Shasharmazorb, have mercy! Iyya Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik have mercy!" the cultists cried, laying flat before Ernie's feet.

Mark wrapped himself around my neck for protection, Matthew clamping onto my back. Luke clung to my leg, and as those three glommed onto me, Caitlyn pressed close, grabbing my hand. "Mommy, I'm scared."

Instead of correcting her, I just gave her hand a squeeze. "Me too."

Ssunamrozedrah, Estalix and our AI units tried to fight gravity by using secondary thrusters in ways they weren't intended, but we got shelled again, and it only served to add an unpleasant spin to our harrowing descent.

We rammed into something, and I went flying across the room.

I hit a wall, and for a moment it felt like riding one of those spinning amusement park rides where you stuck to a wall as the floor dropped out, Caitlyn's weight pressing down on my chest like a barbell set.

I saw nothing but a disorienting blur. We rolled over and over, bumped and banged into objects, other passengers.

I flew backwards, and my skull knocked against a big square object, causing me to lose consciousness.

I had a strange dream. Mom and dad had somehow cut the back of their heads open and put little dioramas inside them. Dad had a bird cage with little dolls and furniture inside. Somehow the two were alive and walking around, even with their skulls cut open like that.

Dad's was all decorated and open for viewing, but mom's only had a triangle cut out, so she was holding up a drill so she could open the areas she'd outlined with a marker.

"Nurse! She's waking up!" I heard a voice saying.

"Oh thank God!"

Mom?

I snapped my eyelids open.

I lay in a hospital ward, in one of those wheeled automatic patient beds.

I had an IV pump hooked up to my arm, my index finger stuck in a pulse oximeter, and I could feel sticky heart monitors for the EKG pulling at my skin beneath the thin hospital shift I wore. I had probes on my head, too. For the EEG.

I took one look at the figure in the padded seat next to my bed and burst into tears. "Mom? Is that really you?"

Narrow faced, long blonde hair, angular nose, laugh lines around the corners of her eyes. Aqua colored hospital scrubs with a Trainee badge. I wiped away the tears trickling down my cheeks.

She smiled at me. "Yes, dear. It's really me."

"But I saw those men shoot you in the head! How are you alive?"

She gave me a frightened stare. "What men?"

"I saw a group of men bring you into Learning Town. They shot you in the head!"

She looked at me like I were crazy. "Did you... _dream_ about that?"

I shook my head, wondering if I _were_ crazy. "No, mama. _I saw it._ "

"Do I look dead to you?" she asked.

Another tear rolled down my cheek. " _No..._ "

Mom held my hand. "You had a _nightmare_ , sweetie. That's all it was."

"What...happened?" I stammered.

She took a deep breath. " _Well. You were out in that park late at night, climbing a rock wall, and you fell and hit your head._ It's a lucky thing your little black friend called the ambulance when she did. You could have died."

I sat up and grabbed her, crying all over her scrubs as I pressed her close.

I looked at the front and back of her head, felt and touched them.

No bullet hole.

No bird cage.

"Oh thank you God, thank you Jesus," I whimpered. "Mom, I love you. I'm sorry I ever disobeyed or said anything mean to you, ever. I love you, mom. Please don't die for real."

"Can I get a hug too?"

When I saw the owner of the voice, my eyes became so blurry with tears that I couldn't see.

I wiped my eyes, scarcely believing what my vision told me.

Portly figure, neatly trimmed beard and mustache, mouse brown hair, balding on top, round sausage-like nose.

Since I had a tube stuck in my arm, I just spread my arms and called to him until he hugged me. I cried again.

When he let go, I looked down at my body and did a double take. I was a little girl again. I'd been too carried away in the moment to notice before, but my hands and arms had shrank, my chest and hips flattened. "How long was I out?"

Mom squeezed my hand. "Oh honey! It's been a _month_! _You've been in a coma all this time!_ We thought you'd never wake up!"

A chill ran down my back.

A month gone from my life. All that time in bed.

I even had a catheter and a pan for number two. The bag had actually filled to the quarter mark.

People had placed cards and flowers on the little dressers next to my bed, mostly relatives, like grandma, who I didn't even know was alive, but I also saw cards from Josh, Kamara and Lacy.

The one from Josh was a corny store bought one, something forgettable about a skier. He wrote only a line on the bottom. "Get better soon! P.S. I hope you like toffee."

I looked behind the card and found one of those toffee cans that usually contain springloaded snakes. I rolled my eyes and didn't touch it, but Dad did.

Fake flowers popped out of it. That made me smile a little.

Kamara's card had an essay about all the reasons we were such good friends. None of it had to do with military stuff, which was very touching. She'd brought me one of those Build-A-Bear things with a cast on its leg and a bandage around its head.

And then there was Lacy's: "You're a good friend. Keep fighting and get better. I love you. Hugs and kisses. XOXO."

That made me cringe a little, but I decided to take it at face value.

"I heard you liked the movie E.T.," the card continued. "So I brought you some geraniums."

She was right. I _did_ like the movie, and the flowers were nice.

As I smelled one of them, I asked myself, _Is that why I dreamed about aliens?_

A nurse rapped politely on the open door. "May I come in?"

She reminded me of Mrs. Hannigan, but with red hair and wasn't nearly as bony. Her name: Becky Anderson.

I got shown X-rays of my body after the fall. No hidden exoskeleton. There had been some mild fractures, but they had healed during my coma.

She removed the probes, and I got dressed in some street clothes mom brought along. The shirt was stripy (yuck) but I wore it anyway.

The woman told me a bunch of stuff, medicines and whatnot, but it was mostly for my parents' benefit. The nurse did some tests on me, unhooked my feeding tubes, allowed me to try standing.

I felt dizzy. Disoriented. My legs shook, and it took me awhile to find my balance. It was the atrophy, you know. Eventually I re-established equilibrium.

The woman urged me to sit down after a few practice walks, then, since I was hungry, mom and dad pushed my wheelchair down to the cafeteria, and we had dinner together, meatloaf and mashed potatoes and corn. It was the best meal I'd tasted in a long time. I scoured the entire tray clean, then gobbled down some chocolate pudding and drank a pint of chocolate milk.

As I ate, I asked mom and dad about DAMBALLAH.

"I'm not sure, baby," Dad said. "Could you explain to me what DAMBALLAH is?"

I told him about Weyland and the government project, about Learning Town and all the military tests. The two stared at me, taking it all in.

Dad whistled. "You've got _some imagination_ , kid!"

" _No kidding!_ " Mom agreed. "That sounds like something straight out of one of those science fiction novels!"

"She always _did_ do well in creative writing," Dad muttered. "Too bad there isn't a future for that."

"Don't crush her hopes, George. Who knows? She might wind up being the next Mary Higgins Clark."

I scratched my head. "So...none of that ever happened. There's no secret military base on the other side of that park."

Dad laughed. "The only thing over there is a quarry they're tearing down to put in an office building."

He must have noticed my skeptical look, for then he added, "Once they let you out of here, I'll drive you past it so you can get a good look. I promise you, there's no secret army base or little green men."

"Mom, are you sure you're not a...clone? Like me?"

She chuckled. "Dear, maybe you shouldn't watch so many movies."

"I'm sorry, mom. It's just...that... _nightmare. It was so real!_ "

"Honey," said Dad. " _Sometimes a dream is just a dream._ "

"Still, I notice I don't quite look like you or mom. Was I adopted?"

He grinned. "Such silly questions! Of course you're not adopted! I don't know where you're getting this from!"

"I...just noticed it...that's all. It seemed...strange."

"You should see pictures of your aunt Thelma," Mom said. "You look just like her."

Dad nodded. "You definitely take after your mother's side."

Based on what I understood about recessive genes, I accepted that explanation. " _So I'm definitely not a clone."_

"You're being ridiculous."

I tried to make that claw thing shoot out of my mouth. Several times, in fact, but nothing happened. I sighed in relief.

"What are you doing?" Dad asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know."

I didn't want to go back to the ward, but Becky said I had to.

Since I felt a little stronger now, Becky let me practice walking down the hospital corridor. I leaned on the rails when I tired out.

I returned to bed, watched TV.

They were playing _The_ _Wizard of Oz_ with the sound off, that scene where Dorothy gets hit in the head with a window frame and sees the wicked witch flying through the tornado on her broomstick.

I felt kind of stupid watching it, thinking about how I, like Dorothy, had constructed some elaborate world in my unconscious mind and woke up to find myself in a rather ordinary world.

Still, I was happy that I dreamed the whole thing. Everything looked better, felt better, tasted better, knowing I'd never have to deal with that nightmare ever again.

Dad changed the channel, and I sat through that episode of the _Partridge Family_ where Danny steals a yo-yo from a toy store and gets blamed for something else as he's having an attack of conscience.

"Saying sorry doesn't always make things better," the shopkeep said.

As I watched this, I began to worry about the dead body hidden in my parents' basement. If it really happened, how would I ask about it without making them suspicious?

For that matter, how could I sneak down and check if a body existed there? It's not like they often asked me to go into the basement for stuff.

I somehow fell asleep, but my worries didn't go away, even then.

I dreamed about mom trying to hide a human sized garbage bag in our front yard with her bare hands and tongue depressors.

Mom liked to cut corners, making Band-Aids with tape and cotton balls, using mugs instead of measuring cups in the kitchen, a tablespoon if a teaspoon couldn't be found.

It would take forever for her to bury that body, and I didn't see a shovel anywhere. I wondered if she dug this way intentionally.

Did Dad threaten her into burying the body, and she wanted him to get caught? If so, she seemed to be trying damn hard to get the job done, in that impossibly backwards and inefficient way. _Her_ way.

I watched her dig like this for awhile, refusing to help when she asked, because I knew of better ways to go about it.

"I don't have a shovel," I kept saying.

When a cop came walking by the house, mom stood up, made an animal howling noise, and dropped dead.

I tried to cry, but couldn't.

I had the keys to the house, so I rushed inside, locking the deadbolt.

Dad rushed up to the porch, banging on the door. Apparently, he didn't have the key.

He looked drunk and angry, and the cop was coming, so I hid behind the door, waiting for him to be taken away.

The noises subsided.

When I peeked out the window, I saw myself with a shovel, digging three holes to dispose of three human sized plastic bags.

I awoke in a cold sweat. To my great relief, I was still in the hospital. Mom and Dad sat in chairs next to my bed, staring at the television.

The sound was off, but I could see it had something to do with the Disney barge. _It was a fictional movie on the Syfy Network._

The weirdest thing I'd ever seen. It looked exactly like security footage of me from the park, but whenever I saw the face of the woman in the Minnie costume, it was some actress that didn't look anything like me, and all the backgrounds looked fake. In fact, all images of Disney characters had been replaced by strange bastardized versions of themselves, like a vampire bat with red button pants, and my replacement fought a cyborg version of Captain Hook. "What is this!"

"It's Marvel's new action movie," Dad said. " _`Debbie Dreadnought and the Vaults of Mortimer'_. The cable networks have been playing it nonstop. It's no wonder you dreamed about it."

I stared at the screen, watching as `Debbie' zoomed down Mickey's Speedway in a GTO, firing at Captain Hook, who held a pair of children captive in the back seat of a Ferrari. You could tell the close up shots had been filmed in a studio, with a movie projector backdrop.

Debbie also had a sword, with which she fought Hook on top of their speeding cars, kind of like they did in that one scene from _The Matrix_.

Mom turned the TV off. "You've absorbed too much of that already. Tomorrow, we'll have your feet planted solidly in the real world. _You're going back to school._ "

"School?" I stammered.

Mom nodded. "You've missed a whole month's worth of study. You'll be in sixth grade forever!"

She dug out a geometry textbook and a syllabus. "I think you should start on this. The teacher had some suggestions."

And so I studied that, then social studies and English. I drifted off halfway through an assigned reading of _Huck Finn_.

I dreamed I went to a courthouse to serve as a witness for a murder, perhaps the same one from the other dream. Dad grumpily stood in the line for Small Claims as I wandered around, trying to find the correct place to meet with the attorney.

As I wandered down a marble hallway, my Afexun chip warned me that the police were after me, so I ran down a street, into the fake neighborhoods outside Learning Town.

I broke into one of the houses, and found Smithson in the basement, beating someone to death with a baseball bat, knocking them down a hole in the floor. I helped him clean up the blood.

He wasted all his bleach on the basement floor, using none on the mess upstairs. Someone was sure to uncover his secret with Luminol, so I searched the house for another bottle.

The cops came and arrested him as I was looking, so I ran away. I was his accomplice, after all.

I stopped a block down, but found no one chasing me. As long as I didn't go back to my parents' house, I figured I'd be safe. No one tried to contact me or anything.

Still, my conscience bothered me, so I tried to find my way back to the courthouse, and got lost.

Dad shook me awake. "Sweetie, it's time to go."

I groaned and rubbed my eyes. "Go to where?"

 _"We're going home, honey._ "

My stomach did a flip flop. What would I find when I came back there?

I took a wheelchair to the hospital's front entrance, but felt okay with walking out to my parents' car.

"We _would_ take you straight to school," Mom said. "But Nurse Becky said you might need a little more rest and practice walking first."

The place beyond the fence at that park _actually was_ a quarry. We drove all around it, but didn't see anything weird, just some big yellow excavators moving rocks into dump trucks. Of course, Weyland _had_ said that there were many hospitals on the island.

Still, what I was seeing and experiencing seemed more real than the ordeal I had just been through. _More realistic_ , at the very least.

My house was more or less the same as I remembered.

Well, actually _less_. The furniture wasn't nearly as nice as I remembered. In fact, the place seemed kinda _run down_. But the floor plan was the same, things had the same color, stood in the exact same places.

The couch sagged and had rips in the arms. The small chandelier above the dining room table was absent, the support piece dangling useless wires. We used a floor lamp instead.

You could see the attic through holes in the ceiling, and the ugly green carpet had bald patches.

"What happened to this place?" I asked as I stepped inside. "I remember it being... _nicer._ "

"You were out for a long time," Dad said. "You know how a place can seem _smaller_ when you grow a little and go back to it?"

I thought about that _dream_ about me cocooning and growing into a full sized woman. "...Maybe you're right."

I glanced at the decorations on the walls, the kitten calendars, grandma's framed painting, old Christmas cards held up by thumbtacks.

"Can I see a picture of Aunt Thelma?" I asked.

Mom shook her head. "I'd love to, but it's lost in my bedroom somewhere."

It had been cold outside, the interior not much warmer. I rubbed my arms. "I thought we had central heating."

"The furnace isn't working," Dad said. "Unfortunately, we can't afford to replace it right now. We've been using a kerosene heater."

"We'll plug in an electric for your room," Mom said. "And there's an electric blanket. There should be some sweatshirts in the closet you can wear."

I watched to check the basement, but this wasn't a good time. "All right, mom." I paused. "I'll see what I can find."

The stairs appeared to be poorly cobbled together, and they creaked when you climbed them. When I reached the top of the stairs, a rat got frightened and darted into my parents' bedroom.

I put on a lavender colored sweatshirt and a striped orange and brown sweater, then searched my room for the doll and other items I'd taken from the scene of that car accident that happened when this whole thing started.

The Raggedy Anne doll had been propped up on my blankets. I examined it carefully, but could find no openings or odd lumps indicating hidden objects anywhere.

"I washed it while you were gone," Mom said from the doorway. "I should have brought it to the hospital, I forgot how much you love that thing."

I kept staring at the doll. "I picked this off the ground, from that wreck where the girl died. Did you sew it up or something?"

Mom gave me a weird look. " _I got that from the thrift store_. You were ten, and we couldn't afford to get you a better Christmas gift than a bunch of old stuffed animals...Did they have the television playing the whole time you were in that coma?"

We had stopped for breakfast at a donut shop on the way home. Her comment made the food shift uncomfortably in my stomach. " _You're a nurse."_

" _Nurse in training_. _I'm not yet established._ "

"What about dad?" I said. "He's a scientist, right?"

 _"And he created you in a lab,"_ Mom said with a laugh. "Sorry, honey. It's not true. He only works for JE Dunn."

I paled. "Did...my trip to the hospital...hurt you? Financially, I mean?"

She hugged me. " _That's nothing for you to worry about, sweetie._ "

After that, I was a good little girl, studying all the stuff I could to please them, as long as they remained alive, for as long as possible.

Mom, who had worked late at the hospital, and spent the morning taking care of me a and bringing me home, immediately went to bed, and was `dead to the world,' and dad pretty much spent the day drinking beer and watching TV, wrestling and boring old westerns.

I waited for Dad to go to the bathroom, then slipped down into the garage.

I thought we had a washing machine, but that too appeared to be something I'd dreamt up. My parents shared one car, and home building materials, bicycles and broken furniture filled the garage, so you couldn't actually park there.

I opened the basement door.

A narrow crudely built staircase fashioned out of poured concrete and cinder blocks led down into a crawl space, a place with concrete walls, a dirt floor, and only a man sized space to move around between the water heaters and the wall.

I remembered dragging Eight through there with much difficulty. I had to bend beneath the water pipes to dig the hole. The dirt was a pale tan color, coated with a thick layer of dust. The rats had dug out little niches in the soil along the walls, networking with the crawl spaces and basements of other houses. I couldn't see a back wall, anything to indicate where the house ended. It seemed like you could crawl into there and get lost in the darkness.

I saw no sign of a body. The soil seemed undisturbed, like I had never dug there.

It made sense. If I didn't have an exoskeleton or claw thing in my mouth, I also probably couldn't kill and bury a two hundred pound man.

But the dream had felt so real! The guilt! I worried about it so long! I went through so much on account of it!

If there wasn't a real body down there, what was my unconscious mind trying to tell me with such terrible imagery?

It was dark. I couldn't see a thing in the shadowy recesses. My mind conjured up zombie burglars and giant dog sized rats foaming with rabies, Satanic foes that crawled out of the pits of hell.

I hurried back out.

I played outside for awhile by myself. When I came back in, mom was awake and had lunch prepared for me. We had hot dogs.

"Well, Ellie," Mom said. "Tomorrow your father will be driving you to school, and you can see all of your friends again. How does that sound?"

"It sounds great," I agreed. "So...how was work?"

She told me about how she and two other nurses had to turn a morbidly obese woman to prevent bed sores, a patient in another ward that was a transvestite and she had to put monitors on his hairy chest.

Also, another nurse who she worked with went over her head and reported an infraction to an upper level supervisor without even telling mom what she did wrong. "Say a prayer for me. My days of having a job may be numbered."

I went to my room, read Nancy Drew, did some homework. We couldn't afford internet.

For dinner, Mom made us a bland casserole of rice, tuna, mushroom soup and carrots. it still tasted a lot better than a lot of things I'd eaten in my dream. Anyways, it wasn't like I could cook better.

Since I hadn't been to school or anything, we didn't have much to talk about. Dad told me about a great aunt of his that got accidentally dragged behind a horse until her eye came out, and someone put it in funny, so she always had a lazy eye. I guess my accident reminded him of that somehow.

Night fell. I got put to bed.

As the darkness of night deepened, long after mother had tucked me into bed, I noticed movement in the shadows of my closet.

At first, I thought I was merely seeing things, as your eyes tend to play tricks on you when you stare at doorknobs and other objects too long. After all, I couldn't sleep, and my eyes had been wandering all over the place.

But then the shadow gained definition, and my closet door actually slid aside, revealing a large glistening black shape.

An eyeless insect thing with a long mosquito beak, and feather-like plates running up and down its body.

I stared, mouth hanging open as the giant beast leaned over the foot of my bed, letting out a guttural purr.

I glanced nervously in the direction of the bedroom door.

"Mom?"


	38. Chapter 38: Out In The Cold

Mom did not respond to my call. It seemed my voice was something only dogs could hear.

The large black thing drooled, but the steaming saliva seemed to have no effect on the blankets or anything.

"Big Bird," I whispered.

The creature appeared to nod in response, but I wasn't ready for conversation. If none of that stuff in Learning Town and the Disney Barge actually happened, then speaking to this _thing_ would be a descent into madness, or worse, a return to my coma.

More horrible still, if Big Bird were real, it would mean everything else wasn't, and I'd lose my parents all over again.

"You're not real!" I hissed. "You're a figment of my imagination!"

I covered my eyes and counted to ten.

When I uncovered them, I saw sunlight streaming from the windows, and Dad was yelling for me to get up and get ready for school.

My uncle often slept in chairs. For a long time, I didn't understand how he did it, but it wasn't outside the realm of possibility for me to have done the same thing. Mom once told me about a time I sleepwalked into the bathroom. My eyes were rolled back in my head, and I was mumbled incoherently until she led me back to the bedroom.

I took a shower, ate a bowl full of Magic Stars cereal (Always Save - It tastes like sugary dust and gravel).

In between mouthfuls of marshmallows, I asked Dad, "What happened to that girl that died in the car accident?"

He stared at me. "What girl?"

"Before I went to that park and climbed that wall, we drove past a dead girl in a smashed up car."

Dad shrugged. "Hell, I don't know. You see a lot of wrecks when you go out driving, and not a single one of them ends up on the news."

I followed him out to our car.

The weather had gotten worse.

He kept the car locked as he heated it up and scraped frost off the windows. I shivered in my coat as I watched him, then, when the glass was clear, I watched with dismay as he hopped in and drove off without me.

I saw him grinning like it were funny or something.

"Hey!" I yelled as I ran after him with my book bag and lunch. "Hey! Stop! Hey!"

Dad was already at the foot of the hill, along a row of duplexes. _Things look smaller when you're grown._

I ran down the hill, waving at the car. "Stop!"

The brake lights came on as the car shifted into reverse.

The car pulled up alongside me, but when I tried the door handle, it was locked.

He eased off the brake, laughing as I ran beside the car.

And then he was driving faster than I could run, not that fast, apparently.

I tried to keep up, but he already rolled up the next hill.

I stopped in the middle of the road, gasping for breath, not bothering to try anymore.

Dad backed up and opened the door for me, but as I was getting in, he accelerated, so I had to run and jump before I got left in the dust again.

He played `freeze out' after that, rolling the windows all the way down so I couldn't enjoy the heater any. I suppose he thought that was funny too.

The front facade of my school resembled a red brick castle. Although the classrooms had windows, and we had no towers, the double doors stood in an arched gate-like frame, and a sort of parapet with pointy blocks ran along the roof, with `murder holes' for rainwater drainage.

I marched inside, marching across a floor painted with our school's mascot tiger. The walls had a dark rush orange color, polished but telling of age. The building had once been some kind of old hospital, expanded and remodeled into a school. The classrooms still had those antique iron radiators along the walls.

I dug in my backpack for the locker number and combination mom had given me, but the paper proved kind of unnecessary, because I found my three friends standing right in front of it.

Lacey had on an E.T. shirt, Josh a black and white Def Leppard tee, and Kamara a powder blue polo. They wore jeans, but I was the only one wearing thrift store bell bottoms.

I immediately gave Kamara a hug, then pulled Josh into my arms, kissing him right on the lips.

I could tell he liked it, but he still pulled away, giving me a nervous laugh. "Whoa! What was that about?"

I blushed. "I don't know. I just missed you, that's all."

I smiled at Lacey. "Hi."

She look a little hurt. "What, no hug for me?"

I gave her a hug, just to be nice. It was awkward. "I saw the stuff you guys brought. Thank you."

"We're just glad you're all right," Lacey said.

Kamara nodded. "That was very dangerous, what you did."

I frowned. " _You're_ the one that helped me up there."

" _I know_ , but..." She shook her head. "I told you not to go into that cave, but you went anyway."

"I went into that cave before you found me," I protested.

My friends shared uncomfortable glances.

"She _did_ hit her head," Kamara muttered to the other two.

That made me feel really bad about myself. I mean, memory isn't always perfect, especially when you hit your head, but when people talk about you...I"I'm sorry. A lot of things seem... _off_ right now. I could almost swear that things were the other way around, but I could be wrong."

Kamara nodded in a way that said I was just plain wrong.

I approached the locker, twisting the dial according to the instructions on the piece of paper.

It didn't open, so I tried again and again. I checked the locker and tried a few more times, but it wouldn't open, no matter how many ways I turned the dial.

Kamara took the paper, frowning at it. " _This isn't the combination._ _You said the numbers reminded you of the coordinates of_ that place."

I paled. _"What place?"_

 _"You know,"_ she answered. _"That place you've been to a long, long time ago._ "

I looked at her like she were crazy, but worried that _I_ was. "What place? You're not making any sense!"

Kamara looked annoyed. "Look. _You were playing_ _make believe_. We went to a place in camp, and we pretended we were _astronauts_. You made up a story about a massive _spaceship_ and a _giant pale man in a chair_."

A chill ran down my back. Was my brain just trying to fill a gap in a little fairy tale when I imagined Mr. Weyland pumping me for information? "Wouldn't that be more numbers than you need to open a lock?"

Kamara read the paper, turning the dial. "9-13-37."

She had the locker opened when the first bell rang.

"Science is in Room 104," she said as I put my stuff away. "C'mon."

I hesitated. "Is that where I've been assigned?"

She rolled her eyes. "Would I be asking you to come with me if you weren't?"

A generic science classroom with marble topped wooden tables and cabinets full of scientific models, chemicals and textbooks.

I dropped my books on the floor when I saw who the instructor was.

A short bony faced blonde lady. Frumpy white blouse and tweed slacks.

Laura Baker. Teaching my science class.

It wasn't much of a stretch when I thought about it, the archetypal scientist placed in a slightly different context, another layer of distortion created by my injured brain.

"Laura!" I cried.

She bristled at my greeting. "It's _Ms. Baker_ , Ms. Ripley."

"My last name is _Siebers_ ," I said, prompting my classmates (already seated) to giggle.

 _"Thanks, but I'll go by what's actually on the school roster."_

Someone made a crack about my sweater, calling me the "A&W root beer girl," but I ignored it. I took a stool next to Kamara, and Laura silenced the class, giving us a lesson on The Big Bang.

She applied dots of white paint to balloons, inflating them to illustrate the expansion of the universe.

I raised my hand and asked if God could have created the photons and matter particles that existed before the explosion, but Laura answered, "Albert Einstein said that God does not play dice with the universe."

Funny how scientists can twist a statement like that, one that presupposes the existence of God, in order to argue against the existence of God. "I was suggesting _pool_. A game involving the mastery of physics."

 _"That's cute,_ " she said. "Where'd you learn that one? Bible camp?"

"No. _A friend._ "

Kamara gave me a disgusted look, as if to say, "I don't know who you're referring to, but it sure the hell wasn't me!"

"Well, Ms. Ripley, theological discussions have no place in the context of a science classroom, so you'll have to bring up this topic somewhere else."

"I think there's a place for it, if you think about it the right way," I argued. "It doesn't have to be in a textbook, it's just a perspective."

The woman looked pained. " _We'll just have to agree to disagree about that._ "

I opened my mouth to speak, but she blurted, "Please. The other students are trying to _learn_."

I clenched and unclenched my fists.

"I thought you got over this _Ponai_ business!" Kamara hissed in my ear.

"You don't easily get rid of what makes a person tick!" I said in a low growl.

Laura gave us a lesson on the solar system, quizzing everyone in the class about the various facts and figures related to each planet. When she finished with Neptune, she went on to the subject of Pluto's demotion. "In case you're wondering, Ms. Ripley, scientists have still found no evidence of _angels, demons_ or _head stealing alien flying machines_ on that little ball of ice."

She picked up a stack of papers from her desk, dropping sheets on each table as she spoke. "Returning to the subject of Mars...let's revisit the little assignment I gave each of you at the beginning of the term."

I stared as a grid divided photographic survey map landed on the spot in front of me, a grayscale image of a crater pitted waste.

"Hopefully these will be familiar to most of you. You're looking at sections of the fourth planet, as seen by satellite. As stated before, each of your maps contain a location where a prominent feature or NASA project exists. It's your job to pinpoint the exact coordinates of the _object_ your team has been assigned to locate."

I cast Kamara a suspicious glance. "That's the same exact thing you were asking me earlier!"

"Okay, okay," she muttered. " _I was trying to cheat._ "

I had no instructions, just a map. "What am I supposed to be locating?"

"You're supposed to find the _Nostromo_ , and a _nearby cave._ "

I leaned over to see what Kamara did on her paper, but she said, "Nuh-uh! No cheating." And she hid the information.

"I don't get it. How am I supposed to find this thing if all I have is a map?"

"You need to point at the appropriate spot on the grid, you know, _where the Nostromo landed_ , and then calculate the coordinates based on X and Y."

"But _I don't know where it landed._ Can't you just give me the coordinates and let me locate the position on the map by solving for X and Y?"

"We did that at the beginning of the term," Kamara sighed. "You need to _remember_ and _do the reverse. That's the assignment._ "

Groaning, I pointed at two random spots. "Fine. The rover went _there_ , and the cave is _there._ "

Now _I_ was receiving the suspicious stare. _"Are you absolutely sure?"_

I reddened. "Do you know something I don't?"

"Well, _no_ ," she admitted. "It's just...it seems like you picked that at random."

"That's exactly where the rover landed."

She frowned. "Why do you keep saying _rover?_ "

"Why wouldn't I? It's not like any real _astronauts_ landed on..." I furrowed my brow when I saw the sector designation. " _LV 426._ "

Kamara's sheet said LV 425. This should have relieved me, but it only made me more unsettled. "Was this a _science fiction_ assignment? Was I supposed to point out the HAB unit with the stranded astronaut and the baked potato farm?"

Kamara smacked herself in the face, shaking her head. "Are you at least certain about the location?"

"Yes!" I snapped. "That's where... _whatever it is, is!_ "

"All right," she groaned. " _Let's translate this into coordinates._ If you're wrong, maybe you can use it later, to figure out the _real location._ "

She showed me an equation that turned X and Y into decimals.

Once everyone had done their sheets, Laura taped the papers all over the whiteboard, overlapping the printouts so that the sector designations couldn't be seen.

Then the woman singled me out, asking me to come to the board and point to where the Nostromo really was.

I remembered which sheet was mine, so I pointed to the same spot. More or less.

"Are you sure it's not on any of those other sectors?" she asked.

I shook my head.

She checked the area I'd pointed to against the coordinates. "That's not the same location."

 _"I know,_ " I muttered. "I don't have the thing memorized, but it's in the ballpark of that area, I swear."

Let's just say I wasn't going to swear too seriously about it. "Why does this matter so much? Why can't you give me clearer directions?"

"The directions are _perfectly clear_ ," Laura said. "It's very simple. Locate the site where your object landed, and calculate the coordinates. As for the purpose, don't tell me you don't remember _NASA's little contest for the public schools._ "

A tear rolled down my cheek. "This isn't real, is it?" I whimpered. "This classroom. The school. Mom and Dad. It's all a lie, isn't it?"

Laura gave me a puzzled look. " _What are you talking about?_ Of course this is real! _We're real..._ Why the sudden turn to Solipsism?"

Everyone stared at me. Someone asked what Solipsism was, but the question got left unanswered.

"I...I don't know. This isn't a normal class assignment. The whole thing is ridiculous. You can't expect me to figure it out without help. I hit my head, okay? I don't know a lot of things I should know!"

"It's a _contest_ , Ms. Ripley. _A contest!_ " Laura sighed in frustration, pointing to a boy in the front row. "Jason, could you please locate The Curiosity and the Gale Crater?"

The redhead pointed to a spot, giving the coordinates.

The bell rang shortly afterwards.

"Where to next?" I asked Kamara. I wasn't sure I could really trust her anymore, but I figured she could at least show me where my classes were.

She read my schedule. "Computer class. Room 210. That's upstairs."

The railings looked like fat old canes, coated with a thick layer of varnish that felt greasy under my hands.

The second floor was tiled concrete, the same orange brickwork with oversized bricks, the doors appearing to be original hospital issue, complete with the type of frosted glass windows you'd see in old detective movies.

As Kamara lead me across the hall to the room, a thin little woman my height, with brown hair cut like a bell, stepped in front of me.

Her wireframes glittered in the light. With the long dress and little woven wraparound, she reminded me of a doll. Mom said she looked like Miss Christie Huddleston.

Her name was actually Margaret Lovelace. She taught English Lit. "Ms. Ripley, may I speak to you in private?"

I swallowed. "What's this about?"

The woman laughed. "Oh _nothing bad_ , I assure you. It's just something I wanted to ask you about a story you wrote."

I didn't remember writing a story, but there was a lot I didn't remember, apparently.

I followed her into a classroom lined with bookshelves, posters of famous African American authors, and a television. They had a row of those old fashioned computerized typewriters that hammered out stuff with keys and an ink ribbon instead of a laser printer.

After carefully closing the door, she dug a stack of typewritten pages out of her desk, all with my name on them.

"I've been reading this story you wrote, which, incidentally, you haven't titled."

I gave her a blank look.

She took a deep, tremulous breath. " _It's a very...interesting story._ _I'm truly impressed._ I really got a _feel_ for your characters. There seemed to be a _life_ , an _emotional depth_ to them that don't often see in other students' writing. I think you have _real talent_.

"Especially the part about the _boat_ where the _heroine is rescuing all the imprisoned children from the slavemasters._ I confess I was up late at night, just reading and rereading that part, thinking about the words. They weren't just carelessly strung together. You really put time into it, and considered each word before committing it to paper. I don't often read science fiction, but this was _actually good!_ One thing I feel you must explain, if not to your readers, then at least to _me..."_

My eyes widened with unease as she paused to take that next breath. I didn't remember writing any story, _especially about that_.

" _When the alien puts its tentacles up the girl's nostrils_. _What is going through her mind?_ "

I couldn't help but feel that she were trying to pry information out of me. I eyed the door like a trapped animal, ready to bolt.

"The tentacles."

"But she lives. It's like there's some sort of... _communication. What is she thinking?_ "

Not wanting to give her a straight answer, I blurted, "`Where's your other tentacle? _`Cause it's snot up my nose.'_ "

I smirked. This was exactly the kind of answer Lacey would give to that kind of question.

She gave me a dirty look. "That isn't a line I'd expect from the young woman who wrote such an artful masterpiece."

" _Seriously_. You need to get out more. I stole the entire plot from a movie. It's called _Debbie Dreadnought._ "

"Adapting a film to a novel is not necessarily plagiarism. In fact, Alan Dean Foster made a career out of it...What did that alien accomplish by inserting its tentacles up the protagonist's nostrils?"

" _Sexual sensations,"_ I lied.

Mrs. Lovelace looked puzzled, possibly disgusted. "As they're trying to rescue the children, and the enemy is approaching, _she's having sex with the alien?_ "

I shrugged. "Hey, maybe she thought she'd never get a better chance."

The woman rolled her eyes. "Ms. Ripley, _I don't think that's what happened._ "

"And how would you know? _You didn't write it!_ "

She opened her mouth to say something, but I just shoved past her, threw the door open, and bolted into the hallway.

"210," I muttered as I ran past the doors.

For a moment, the rooms seemed to go in the sequence of my locker combination. I nearly missed the class.

The room to the computer lab was open, a bunch of PC's, each displaying a different training module, an interactive program about how lightning is formed, and the earth's water cycle, a program about the rainforest, a typing speed module, mathematics.

A pair of computers had been devoted to the building and operation of robotic things made of Legos and modular aluminum toys. The kids not assigned a station waited their turn, doing exercises out of workbooks until a computer became available.

Out of the corner of my eye, a _Number Munchers_ game seemed to actually be a program that familiarized the user on military weaponry, the assemblage of stocks, barrels and cartridges.

I looked again, and it was _Number Munchers_. I couldn't tell if it were the military mindset of my nightmares getting to me, or if things from the real world were seeping into a waking dream.

A man in a white shirt and black slacks stood with his back to the door, instructing a young girl on how to move to the next module in a (drone weapon simulator) _typing tutor_. His voice seemed... _familiar_.

When the instructor turned around, I froze in horror.

Rounded head, craggy features, black hair in a widow's peak.

"Mr. Weyland!" I gasped.

The man gave me an unpleasant smile. "Ellen! Welcome back! _We've been missing you!_ "

A timer on a computer went off, the student occupying it leaving the room.

Weyland ushered me to the machine, which now displayed a photographic map of Mars. "I know how much you like this game. Identifying which constellations are clockwise or anticlockwise, identifying solar flare patterns... _locating where the Nostromo landed..._ "

I shot him an uncomfortable glance. " _There's kids ahead of me. They've been waiting._ They should probably go first."

Weyland patted me on the back. "You're _humble_ , Ms. Ripley. I like that about you."

He turned me around, and I saw the kids at the waiting table were from Golic's cult, and that Frankenstein looking kid, T-135.

"Would you mind it terribly if Ms. Ripley went ahead of you? She _has been out for a very long time."_

The children smiled and shook their heads, returning to their (military manuals) science workbooks.

I turned back toward the computers, and for a second I thought I saw the other screens displaying camera footage of me at my house, the school, the surrounding neighborhood.

 _And the Disney child slaves were monitoring them_.

I ran out into the hallway.

"Stop her," I heard Weyland saying to someone.

The doors to all the classrooms were open. Inside each one, I saw rows of students in desks, staring at blank television screens like they were something fascinating. Even teachers watched the blank monitors.

When I passed a room, each one of these teachers turned and looked at me, getting up from their desks. One of them looked like Big Bird's android body.

I didn't know Mrs. Lovelace was in my way until I knocked her to the floor. I didn't stop.

As I rushed down the stairs, I suddenly noticed another familiar face looking up at me from the lower floor.

"Caitlyn!" I cried. "What's going on? What is this place? Am I dreaming?"

"This isn't a dream. You're in the Night Forest."

I paled. " _The Night Forest?_ As in, _the place where you see dead people?_ "

She shrugged. "Kinda."

"Am _I_ dead?"

"Um, no. I mean, I hope not. I don't think so."

"Are you?"

She didn't answer.

I hurried down to her. "You've got to get me out of here."

"Mom, it's not that easy. Someone's shut off all the escape routes. The doors and buttons don't work. You'll have to wake yourself or have someone release you from the outside."

"So _I am_ alive."

I glanced up the stairs, to where all the teachers were gathering. "Then what do I do?"

She marched down the tile and concrete floor. "Follow me. I'll take you to meet Dad."

I followed her to an art class at the end of the hall, easels and drawing horses arranged around a model stand with a display of fruit, a bicycle and a Glock 9 mm.

I snatched the gun off its gray dropcloth, checking to see if it were loaded.

"Put that down," Caitlyn said. "Guns don't work here. You'll just get into trouble."

I put it back, trailing her out an emergency fire exit, into a blizzard.

The cloudy sky blotted out the sun, giving the illusion of night. Maybe it _was_ night. I couldn't tell.

For some reason, we now _faced_ a building, running down a paved concrete walkway, a wall of red brick and a steep brown roof to my left, a rock wall topped with a rail and flower boxes filled with mounds of snow to my right.

Snow dust swirled in through this narrow corridor, obscuring a church bell tower, filling up crevices, making miniature sloping dunes along the ground. The wind blew snow snakes across the pavement, vaporous snow devils dancing up a staircase running along the side of the tower.

Caitlyn spun around, running back the way we came, now a blacktop parking lot with a playground, complete with monkey bars.

A Papa Johns delivery car stood at the end of the walkway, Big Ron, in uniform, smoking next to the side of the idling vehicle.

"Anyone order a pizza?" he called over the howling winds.

A pug dog barked with excitement at us from the partly opened window.

" _That's your dad?_ " I said.

Caitlyn wrinkled her nose. "No. That's just...some pizza guy. I can't believe they let him bring a dog in the car."

I thought I saw Big Bird's monster form perched atop the geodesic jungle gym, but she vanished in a torrent of white.

I was freezing, so I called back to the man, "If I say yes, can I eat it at the restaurant?"

Ron laughed and let me in the car.

I glanced back, but couldn't see my adopted daughter anywhere.

"Caitlyn?" I cried.

I got out, circling the car. "Caitlyn?"

"Something missing?" Ron asked.

"Where'd my friend go?"

He pointed at the building we'd been running towards a minute ago, now clearly a church. "If your friend is anywhere, she'd probably in there, keeping warm, like you should be doing."

Ron took a pull from his cigarette. "Honestly, I didn't see anyone, I just saw you."

He pointed to the ground. "See? Only one set of footprints."

I shivered, but not due to the cold.

What happened to Caitlyn?

Was she really dead?

Was she part of the simulation? A digital ghost like her dead father?

Ron sucked in more nicotine. "Tell you what. It's really coming down, but if we buzz around, we might be able to see some tracks before the snow covers them up. How about we circle the place a few times and look for your friend, and if we don't see anything, I'll drive you back to your house?"

I sighed. "All right."

We did a couple laps around the building, St. Anthony's Church, apparently. We saw no tracks or lights or any sign that my friend had ever been there.

We stopped in front of the big stained glass window on the front end, one displaying, strangely enough, images of Ss'sik'chtokiwij in various phases, from egg to queen, a disturbing sacrilegious image, despite the use of a cross as centerpiece.

I blinked, and it became more normal, images of the disciples, a lamb perched on the Book of Life, a butterfly and angels.

"Again, I didn't see anyone but you," Ron muttered, oblivious to all of this.

A human finger makes a distinct noise when writing a message in frost. When I glanced back at the rear driver's side window, I saw a message reading, "EMOH OG."

Ron puffed his cigarette as he stared blankly out the side window, but I saw it, the needle beaked creature passing by the delivery car with a child on its back.

The wind blew a whirlwind of snow in the driver's face, prompting him to roll up the window. My friend vanished.

"You're right. I don't see her. Take me home, please."

As we rode along, the dog licked my face and curled up in my lap.

"Buddy's a good dog," the man muttered. "But she can get spoiled sometimes."

"I should think so. How do you keep her out of the pizza?"

Ron chuckled. "She knows I'll always let her have a slice at the end of the shift, so she behaves until then. _Usually._ "

The high beams of the delivery car did not illuminate the darkness as much as highlight the opaque whiteness that obscured the road.

All of a sudden, the dog barked, and Ron slammed on the brakes, causing us to toboggan about a yard before coming to a complete stop.

"Oh my God," he said as he stared out the side window. "There's a boy in that ditch over there."

It was Josh, dressed in his prep school uniform. I ran to his side, but I could feel no pulse, no breathing when I placed my head against his chest.

"Josh?" I whimpered. "Josh?"

He didn't respond, so I took out a needle and stuck it in his eye.

I don't know why I did this, except maybe because I thought it would prove he was too dead to care.

Immediately, he sat up and screamed. "Kill me!"

"No! You're alive! _I can't kill you!_...I love you!"

"Then why'd you stick a needle in my eye?"

I swallowed hard.

"Please, Ellie," he sobbed. "I'm in a lot of pain! _I'm dying!_ Please put me out of my misery!"

"No. I'm taking you to the hospital."

"No hospitals!" he screamed. "Just kill me!"

"You know I can't do that!" I yelled back.

And then he was crying, him with that punctured weeping eye.

Ron moved some pizza boxes out of the back set, and we helped Josh inside.

Shutting the door, we rolled through the blizzard again, the dog sleeping on my lap.

A few miles down the road, as I was thinking about the hospital, how my parents would react to Josh staying the night, especially with an injured eye like that, I thought about how cold it was in the house itself, and muttered to the driver, "Before we go to my place, do you think we can drop my friend off at his?"

 _"It's pretty nasty out here,_ " Ron said. "Where's your friend right now?"

"In the back seat."

Ron frowned. "There's nothing in the back but pizza boxes."

I looked around the seat, and saw he was right. "I didn't even see him get out! Did _you_ hear the door opening or closing or anything?"

Ron shook his head. "There hasn't been a single person in that back seat since I picked you up at that church."

My eyes widened in shock. "What!"

He put a fat hand on my shoulder. "I've heard frostbite can play tricks the mind. I think you need to _get home and lie down for awhile._ "

All of a sudden, I saw Mr. Hattam, in his gold costume, standing behind a long velvet covered table in the middle of the road, idly shuffling cards, making them arc and fly through the air like he were on a public sidewalk.

Ron slammed on the brakes, but we had no traction, so we kept sliding.

And sliding.

"Ellen!" Ron yelled as we came within inches of crushing the busy magician. It sounded like Dad's voice.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself staring at the ugly water spots on my bedroom ceiling.

I sat up, wondering what the hell was going on.

Did I dream that whole day at school? If so, it would explain a lot about everyone's weird behavior and the surreal visions I'd seen.

But if it were the Night Forest, it could still explain a lot too...

I decided go about my morning routine like nothing strange had happened.

Dad said we were running late, so we didn't check the TV for school closings. The school was so small that they didn't report it on TV anyway.

We stepped outside into a blizzard. It seemed I had either predicted the weather in my sleep, or it had continued since last night.

Instead of a car, dad took me to a little brown hardtop Jeep.

I'm sure Dad would have played that `drive away' game with me again, but there was too much snow on the road this time.

The vehicle had no insulation at all, making it a drafty ride. Plus he kept playing freeze out every couple minutes.

Dad popped a Twisted Sister tape into the stereo, before it started up, I heard a female voice saying, "Prepaid."

"Dad," I said. " _That's a cassette tape. You clearly bought it._ Why does it say prepaid?"

"Actually, I didn't. I recorded it off the LP. It must have gotten some radio interference from that guy behind the house."

I furrowed my brow. _"Radio interference?_ Aren't there laws against that?"

Dad shrugged. "I don't think Carl cares about that. He's always interrupting the television with his CB set."

He showed me the cassette, which now looked like a generic recording tape. He shoved it back in and played freeze out with me the rest of the way to school.

It wasn't the school I remembered.

In fact, we pulled into the empty parking lot of that red brick church I dreamed about the night before.

"Are you sure this is my school?"

"You bet your ass it is. We have to pay your tuition every month, and it's not exactly cheap."

Proprial school, I thought. That's why we didn't check the TV for school closings.

I followed him down the front walk to the bell tower, I guess where people ordinarily entered the place, but the door was locked.

Dad swore a lot when he found this out. We got back in the Jeep and drove home.

Mom wasn't there. Dad said she had been called to work during the night, and wouldn't be back until sometime later in the morning. He said he might get contracted to do some plowing, but he'd have to decline the job to watch _me_. This made my presence in the house extremely inconvenient.

Once inside the house, I took off my coat and gloves, going to my room. I had a black and white television, but the only channel that didn't give me static was Channel 19, the public TV station, currently playing some boring thing about remodeling a house.

When I went to the kitchen to get a drink of water, Dad had a beer in his hand, watching a blank television monitor.

I waved my hand in front of his face, and he told me to get out of the way of the set, squeezing my hand until it hurt.

I hurried into my room.

I heard the sounds of Dad moving his kerosene heater from his bedroom to the living room, checking the reservoir. He called me down.

The fuel was low, so he took out the prism shaped fuel cannister and a big can of kerosene, telling me to go fill it on the front porch. I wanted to take my coat, but he told me "It won't take that long."

The can was heavy, and it was freezing outside, but I did what he told me, pouring the smelly petroleum product into the little container. It splashed a little and got on my hands, saturating me with the odor.

When I had both lids closed, I heard the deadbolt turn in the front door, and the sound of my father laughing on the other side.

"I got the can filled!" I yelled over the wind. "Let me in!"

He just laughed at me.

It felt like it were about two degrees below zero. I pounded on the door. "This isn't funny! I'm cold! Let me in!"

For a moment, he didn't answer.

Then he replied, "First tell me where you hid Data Chip 94112213."

A chill ran down my back, this one having very little to do with the cold. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know very well what I'm talking about. Chip 94112213. _What did you do with it?_ "

"You're not making any sense!" I yelled. "Stop kidding around! I'm going to freeze to death out here!"

Long pause.

"Tell me what I want to know, and I'll let you in."

"Aren't you cold in there?" I challenged. "Don't you want the reservoir? So you can, you know, _be warm?_ "

" _I have your electric heater_. _I'm good._ How about you? _Bet it's nice and cool out there_ , isn't it? You gonna tell me where you put that chip, or are you going to _play in the snow_ some more?"

Yeah, I thought. That's real good. Leave your daughter to die from the cold outside, and _blame her_ for freezing to death.

When faced with a situation like this, you can either die or figure out a way to lie really fast.

"Okay, okay! I'll tell you! I'll tell you everything! Just let me in!"

The deadbolt shot back, and I at last could bring the kerosene in.

The moment I set the items down, he asked me about the chip again.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Where was it last?"

"I don't know, Ellen, you tell me! You were aboard the Nostromo!"

"So it's a _spaceship!_ " I exclaimed.

"Don't pull that dumb shit with me! I know you remember where you put that computer chip, so you'd better tell me now, or it's _outside you go!_ "

"I don't remember!"

 _"How about I jog your memory!_ "

He grabbed me, forcefully dragging me to the front door.

I punched him in the crotch, shoved his hands away, and ran to the kitchen, digging a long serrated bread knife out of the dish rack.

When Dad entered the room, he held a strange knife that you held like a set of brass knuckles. "Put the knife down, and tell me what the fuck you did with that data chip!"

"I ate it," I said.

"Don't pull that smartass shit with me, little girl, or you're going to be spitting out your teeth like Chicklets!"

 _"I don't know what you're talking about!"_

He stomped closer. "You're going to tell me what you did with that computer part if I have to beat the information out of you!"

Then he looked down at the knife. " _I said drop it!_ "

"I'll put it down if you drop yours."

"That's not how this works. I'm the father, and you do what I say. Put the knife down."

I clenched the bread knife tighter. "No! You'll just tell me to do something I can't do and put me outside until I freeze to death!"

Dad stepped forward and tried to stab me, but I blocked it with the bread knife.

I swung at him, but he blocked my attack.

The theme music to _The Pirates of the Caribbean_ came on in the other room, the same music they always play when people are swordfighting on giant waterwheels and such.

I hit Dad right across the knuckles, lopping off his fingers. The man screamed and swore at me as his blood gushed onto the floor.

I ran out of the house as quickly as I could. I mean, what else was I going to do? Stay?

I took my coat with me, but it was still cold.

Shivering, I ran in the direction of the Projects, then turned right, hurrying up a hill with wood and stone cottage style houses on either side, past a brownstone duplex that looked like it belonged on Sesame Street.

I shivered as the cold winds whipped around me, but I pressed on through another neighborhood.

These weren't my memories.

They weren't even real.

Someone was using the Night Forest to manipulate me into giving them information.

If I could somehow deny that the cold existed, I wouldn't feel the effects.

Would I?

More little two story cottage homes. Up ahead, I could see a wide street, one which, on a warmer day, would probably be teeming with cars.

As I approached this area to seek out the nearest heated building, I saw the red and blue flashing lights of a cop car, heard a siren.

The black and white sedan turned down my street. The siren sounded... _funny_.

It was actually playing _I Know You're Out There Somewhere_.

Although I wondered if Big Bird had something to do with the cop car, I didn't trust it, for the simple reason that I had chopped off my dad's fingers and dad had probably called the police with his good hand, to arrest me. I turned and ran the other way.

"There's nowhere to run, Ellen," I heard Weyland's voice saying through the megaphone. "Things would be so much easier for you if you'd just cooperate."

"I'm not telling you anything!" I shouted. " _Even if I knew something_ , I wouldn't!"

"Ellen, _I can play this game as long as you can_. We can either make this easy, or make it difficult."

I ran away from the car, but it kept chasing me.

The snow blew in a huge cloud, and I suddenly stood naked and shivering in an arctic flatland, nothing but snow for miles in every direction.

"What was on that data chip?" Weyland's voice boomed, god-like from the air.

"How many times can I tell you I know nothing about a chip!" I shouted back.

I ran in a straight line through the snow, but no matter what I did, I ended up turning in circles.

 _"Where are you going, Ellen?_ There's absolutely nowhere to go."

I tripped over something in the hard packed frost, and when I picked myself up off the ground, I noticed my two Family Spirits dolls staring back at me.

"No," I sobbed.

The Mom doll opened her plastic mouth. "Tell Mr. Weyland where you put his computer chip, Ellie!"

"Tell him now, or I'll beat it out of you," the Dad doll chimed in.

I picked up his effigy and screamed at it. "You're just a doll!"

The Mom doll started crying. "Why are you doing this to us? We only want what's best for you!"

"Wake up, Ellen!" the Dad doll said.

The voice wasn't Dad's.

I blinked, and I was in my bed again, but still naked.

"Wake up, Ellen!"

There it was again.

Instead of the loud hollering from the living room, like I was used to, it came from the darkest corner of my bedroom closet.

"Mom! Hurry, before it starts again!"

Caitlyn's voice.

I saw the girl emerge from the shadows. She climbed over my toy box, stumbling into the room.

A moment later, a glistening black shape wiggled out of the darkness, feather-like armor plating tearing apart the sheetrock in the wall, causing the lights to flicker as it followed her into the light.

The massive Ss'sik'chtokiwi rushed to my bed, purring as it cocked its needle beaked head, appearing to gaze into my eyes.

I glanced over and saw Caitlyn approaching the bed, prompting me to pull the covers over myself. You know, for decency.

"Big Bird," I said. "You've got to help me. You've got to get me out of this place."

The creature smiled. "I thought you'd never ask."

She spun around so quickly that I thought her sharp tail plates would embed themselves into my skull.

"Grab her tail," Caitlyn said. "And don't let go."

"I'm naked."

She frowned. "If you are, there's nothing in this whole program that can help you."

 _"Because it's not real._ "

Caitlyn nodded, grabbing Big Bird's tail. "Sometimes I wish it was."

I latched on to a lower portion of the spine. _"I don't._ "

The big creature shoved its way through a tiny looking hole in the back of the closet. I didn't know how the hell I was going to fit in after it, especially with Caitlyn in the way, but somehow Big Bird's tail elongated like a rope, and we crawled through the hole one by one, into a dark, dusty cramped tunnel inside the walls.

The wood beneath my knees was splintery and it wobbled and squeaked as I crawled, threatening to collapse at any moment. Nails poking out of the walls ripped at my bare flesh, adding more pain to the already unpleasant wood splinters.

"The people who programmed this don't want you in this part, so they're making you experience pain. You'll need to push through it if you want to escape the simulation."

The further up I crawled, the narrower it got. I started on all fours, but then had to push my head down, squeeze myself in, and wiggle ahead on my stomach like a snake, having run out of room to do anything else.

We turned a corner, and it became rock, like a cave.

The tunnel narrowed even further, to the point in which I could only fit my head through the opening, the passage ahead appearing to terminate at a wall that curved off to one side.

I couldn't breathe.

The dust choked me, but I held onto the tail, silently praying that I hadn't simply crawled into this hole to die like a sick cat.

I felt a violent jerk, and my body popped into the next section of tunnel with a flash of agonizing pain that seemed to hit every single nerve in my entire body. It felt like my airways had been constricted to nothing.

I got dragged further, found myself encapsulated in a slimy placenta, struggling for air.

After tearing the film from my mouth, I inhaled, flopped onto the carpet of a video store.

I'm naked, all of the customers staring at me.

Big Bird had turned invisible now. I could barely tell that I was clutching her tail, or anything at all.

"Mom," Caitlyn urged. "Keep close to Big Bird. The system is trying to throw you off."

The video store led into an indoor walking track in a gym, a building which doubled as a police station, by the looks of the uniformed people closing in on us.

Big Bird dragged me through an open door, into a vast white chamber with a gigantic glass orb.

She growled, indicating I should climb through a small square hole in the wall on the other side of the orb.

 _"You're on your own now, mother,_ " Caitlyn said. "Keep crawling around and around until the program lets you out. Don't let anything stop you. It's just the system trying to keep you inside."

"Thank you," I said. "If this works, I'll try to find some way to repay you."

"Just don't die."

I approached the orb.

It was huge, and I saw no way around it but under.

I laid flat on my belly, wiggling underneath. I had to do it, even if it came down and crushed me to death

It proved to be closer to the floor than I thought. I had to really fight and struggle to get past it, my breath tightening with its weight.

I reached the square air duct on the opposite end, crawling through the opening.

It was getting lighter, the tunnel angling upwards as I crawled.

I crawled from air duct to ventilator shaft to storm drain pipe to cave, around and around and around, the light getting brighter and brighter as I progressed...

My eyes opened to total pitch darkness.

I lay in an enclosed swimming pool, suspended in salt water, body not making contact with anything.

I quickly came to the realization that I, as an adult, had been placed in a sensory deprivation tank.

I touched the sides of my head, and to my alarm I felt _probes_ there, deeply embedded in my skull.

I looked into the inky shadows above me and screamed.


	39. Chapter 39: Mind Games

I had small wireless probes in my skull, which explained why I could float in the tank with them.

I grabbed at the devices, but they hurt when I tugged at them.

It seemed people used pain to keep me out of everything.

I yanked out my tubing, the IV and the catheter lines, then ripped the needle out of the IV, keeping it in case I needed a weapon.

I swam to a deck running around the outside. I frog scrambled over the gutter and flopped on a spongy carpet that felt like toothbrush bristles.

The air conditioning of the room remained at a constant 95 to 98 degrees, the exact temperature of the human body, making it impossible for me to see anything with my infrared. I staggered to my feet, stumbling forward in the dark with my hands outstretched until I encountered a wall.

Suddenly it got light, and I stood on a dock behind the cabins at camp, still nude.

"Aw, don't leave now!" I heard Lacey calling. "The water's just started to warm up!"

I punched the air, and found my fist making contact with concrete.

I got thrown into blackness again.

"Nice try, Weyland."

I felt along the cinder blocks, creeping down the length of the toothbrush carpet. The walls took on the texture of slime, wiggling snakes, insects, and fire that burned me, but a few punches, and jabbing myself with the needle helped me regain control of my senses.

I found a door, then a handle.

I became momentarily blind as the door swung open to brilliant light.

I bumbled my way in, steadying myself against a wall as my eyes adjusted.

I appeared to be in a sleeper module from a space station, a set of bunk beds and associated storage closets and compartments. The compartments proved to be decorative stage dressing, none of them actually opening, save for two, a drawer containing a single set of underwear, and a closet yielding one astronaut's flight suit with a Nostromo patch.

When I put these items on in front of a mirror, I noticed that someone had permed my hair, and I fairly resembled the photographs I'd been shown in history class.

The sleeper module connected to a small room with full length mirrors facing me from every surface. I think someone was trying to jar the memories I supposedly possessed from the cloning.

My reflection only told me I needed to eat more.

One of the mirrors had a knob, opening up into a school shower room, tiled in aquamarine. No shower fixtures, only rows of ventilation registers running along the walls.

Not liking the looks of the place, I hurried to the end of the room, only to be presented with a locked iron door.

Great clouds of white steam came hissing out the vents, a chemical smell that reminded me of burnt popcorn and sour milk.

I had no desire to share the fate of some long forgotten Hebrew ancestor, so I ran back to the door I came from, but found it shut and locked as well.

By this time, I'd inhaled enough to feel the effects of the gas, a groggy head-swimmy feeling with accompanying nausea.

I started seeing things.

At first, my mind only produced shadows. Foggy, undefined man shapes with no substance. But then they gained lifelike clarity, so much so that I wondered if they had somehow been introduced into the room via a secret entrance.

Clusters of large slimy eggs, big enough to fit a whole human being inside, surrounded me.

Despite me being part alien, the top flaps on these eggs slowly came open as I approached them, jaundiced fingers threatening to latch onto my face.

I walked past them in a hurry, but soon found myself face to face with a gigantic dark creature with an armor plated body.

She did not look pleased to see me there.

She did not ask me to help her read _Green Eggs and Ham_ or anything, she just breathed like some creepy phone pervert.

"Shasharmazorb," I said.

Shasharmazorb didn't reply.

I shook my head, rubbed my face. "This isn't real."

"I'm going to use your body to hatch eggs."

"I have a hard shell under my skin. Wouldn't that be kind of like the Thunderdome?"

Ernie's grandmother did not react. She only hissed threateningly.

Shasharmazorb wasn't really there. Weyland was just...screwing with my brain.

I could prick my finger, and use my blood to melt the lock on the door.

I just had to be strong and not let the illusion get to me.

I marched closer to the Ss'sik'chtokiwij. "Stand aside, or I'm going through you."

"I'd like to see you try."

As I came within centimeters of touching her, I was struck with a headache so powerful that it dropped me to my knees.

I screamed and held my temples, wishing for everything that the pain would just end.

"Where is the computer chip!" Ernie's grandmother demanded.

Must get to the door! I thought. Must get to the lock!

And then a realization slowly dawned on me: The pain was radiating from my temples!

I could melt the probes into uselessness!

"Stop making this so difficult!" Shasharmazorb growled. "Tell me what you did with the data!"

I rammed the needle into the meat of my hands repeatedly, then slapped the caustic fluid that issued forth against the probes in my temples.

"Fool!"

Ernie's grandmother distended her jaw, blowing out a huge cloud of smoke, like a dragon trying to breathe flame while a fire hose sprayed its mouth. As the clouds swelled, her body disappeared into the vapor, winking out of existence.

With my head pounding, I ran to the door, pricked my skin with the diamond tipped needle, applied blood to the lock.

It felt like forever before the lock sizzled and melted away, allowing me to push the door open.

I damn near impaled myself.

The room adjacent had no walkable areas, only a deep pit filled with razor sharp metal spears.

The walls had been built like a huge white-gray chessboard, pitted here and there with fencing in place of the slick tile, or dangerous looking holes.

Small camera bubbles bookended the tiles, and drones hovered in the air, observing me.

In the distance I saw a wall panel belching flame, to the left, a set of sword points shot from slots in the tile. It seemed everything in the room was a deadly trap.

I saw no exits except for a square hole in the ceiling, from which a small metal coffin-like box dangled on chains.

"Mom?" I heard Caitlyn calling. "Is that you?"

"Caitlyn!" I cried. "Where are you!"

"Mom!" she screamed. "Help me! Help me! It hurts!"

I heard screams again, then sobbing.

"Where are you!"

She only sobbed.

It seemed logical to check the coffin first. I figured if I found nothing inside, I could always climb back down and examine the little fences.

This had to be a military training course, one which I had no choice but to complete or face the consequences.

Who was orchestrating all this? Weyland?

If he _was_ behind it, why did he make someone shoot down our spaceship?

If not, then who did?

For that matter, did the crash really happen, or was all of that a part of the Night Forest? How much of it, if anything, was real?

Was I really an adult, or was I really twelve years old? Was this torture chamber the actual reality?

It made me wonder about my near death visions I had about Jesus, but certain matters of faith really can't be proven or disproven anyway, so I was not left with an existential crisis. My conversion and the forgiveness of my sins were more important than a million spiritual experiences.

It seemed that whoever it was who devised this room knew about my skill in climbing walls. What frightened me was the fact they assumed I could climb the ceiling. I saw no indication of railings, scaffolding, or anything up there that could possibly support me, only a ladder that ended flat against the ceiling, like some sort of ghost trap in the Winchester Mystery House.

Another thought troubled me. What would I do with Caitlyn once I got her? That kind of weight isn't easy to support, even with my talent.

"Ellie?" I heard Caitlyn whimpering again.

No more time for thought. I had to get to that cage!

The ladder lay along the left wall, so I stuck my hands to the white panels along that side of the doorway.

The moment my palms adhered to the surface, I heard a whooshing sound and felt heat. I had to duck my head as flame blasted out a hole in the panel directly above me. It seemed I couldn't just climb straight up.

I didn't really want to rely solely on my talent for this climb, but I had no ledges or anything for me to stand on, so I had no choice but to plant my bare feet vertically on the featureless gray tile below me and edge over to the next section.

The moment my hand touched the neighboring gray panel, it popped out of the wall on a springloaded mechanism, nearly throwing me into the pit in the process.

Not wanting to press my luck by going down and out of the way, I climbed at a diagonal, squeezing between the blasting heat of the fire trap and the springloaded trap that was, even at that very moment, recoiling for another snap ejection. I prayed that I would not lose my grip and fall.

Success. I now dangled, in a rather undignified way, from the square atop the spring trap.

I climbed upwards, locking my fingers into a secure looking grating.

The sound of angry barking startled me into losing my grip.

It was a kennel filled with angry Doberman Pinschers, all snarling and snapping at my exposed digits as they raised their fierce territorial cries.

Hissing like the version of Ernie's grandmother I saw in the vision, I channeled my fear into making myself as frightful as possible, testing to see if that claw thing still existed in my mouth.

It did. The moment it snapped out, the Dobermans yelped and retreated from the grating, still barking and snarling at me in attempts to intimidate.

A drone came down and shot BB pellets at me. I slapped it away from me, but it kept coming back.

I didn't stop. One more square, and I'd be at the ceiling. Not my favorite place to be, but it took extra time to reach the ladder, and speed was of the essence.

The moment I reached for the square, a cluster of sword blades burst from hidden slots, causing me to jerk my hand away. I could hear the voice of a madman laughing from a grate next to it.

A dog bit me. I scrambled sideways in a hurry, ducking yet another flame trap in the process.

The drone hovered in front of my face, shot me with a pellet, then flew away the moment I raised my hand to swat at it.

Big mosquito, I thought. It's just a big mosquito. I'll get it when it comes back for my blood.

At last I reached the ladder.

A white ladder, crafted from metal pipes, welded together, then given a once over with a paintbrush decades ago.

The moment I grabbed the bars on it, the thing snapped off and fell into the pit, nearly taking me with it. The maniacs in the cages laughed at me.

"Shit!" I gasped. "Oh shit oh shit!"

I'd never before crawled on a ceiling. I didn't even know if it were possible, and now they wanted me to do it on command.

"Mom, please hurry," Caitlyn said in a tone that seemed to tell me it was too late.

"Hold on, Caitlyn!" I cried. "Mommy's coming to get you!"

Wait. Did I just say that?

In my defense, I wanted to give Caitlyn a reason to keep fighting.

...And maybe it was a yearning to give a child a chance to have a normal loving parent, regardless of however long we might live.

I'd sacrifice my life for that.

Dying to save others. That's what Jesus did.

I climbed up the wall, then shoved off with my feet, slapping my palms on the gray tile that lay above me. They stuck.

"Please God," I whispered as I inched further onto the ceiling. "Don't let me fall."

It shouldn't have worked, but somehow I defied gravity. With my heart practically pounding in my throat, I walked across the ceiling with my hands while walking up the adjacent wall with my feet, slowly walking myself diagonal to a hanging position on the ceiling proper.

A panel next to me popped open, a big hairy grizzly bear arm clawing at me.

As the deadly muscular arm hacked at me with its claws, trying to throw me from the ceiling, I noticed the wires and bits of metal.

I shouted as I ripped the fake arm out of its socket.

The drone came back, peppering me with more tiny bullets.

I swung the robotic bear arm like a club, smashing it down on the drone. Both objects fell into the pit with a noisy crunch.

I had not paused to consider this before, but my palms were not merely sticky, I could will a kind of suction cup to emerge from the fat of my hands and the balls of my feet, and that's why I had the ability to remain planted on the ceiling.

I crawled ahead to the next square, but had to skitter out of the way as the dark grating erupted in fire.

Unfortunately, I skittered right over a grate that one of those laughing lunatics occupied.

The man shoved a knife through the slats, coming close to dislodging me as the blade pierced the palm of my hand.

I crawled away from there as fast as I could, only to find myself being showered with thousands of crawling insects, spiders, cockroaches and various other things I didn't even want to think about. I screamed as they got into my hair, scurried down my face, wiggled their way into my suit.

I was miserable, but I'd been subjected to fleas and bedbugs before, so I steeled myself against the itchy sensation and kept crawling.

There it hung from a set of feeble looking chains, the metal box. I circled the object, searching for an opening point.

Three of its sides were featureless metal plates, reminding me of an old steamer trunk.

The fourth face, however, was a lid, secured with a heavy padlock.

No visible air holes. Not a good sign.

Although I did not completely trust the chains to support my weight, I could see no other way to reach the box, so I leapt onto its top portion and hung over the side, melting the padlock with my blood until it fell off.

I pried the lid open, then burst into tears.

The dusty trunk contained only one object: A Family Spirits doll bearing Caitlyn's likeness.

"Help me, mommy!" the doll said.

"I can't!" I sobbed. "It's too late!"

I held the doll to my chest, dampening it with my tears. "No!"

I wanted revenge.

Whoever had set this up, I wanted them to pay.

That being said, I also knew that revenge was not a Christian thing to do. While sharing minds with Ernie, I was taught this lesson repeatedly. "Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord."

Because of this, my objective was the same as it had been before. Rescue my friends, find the spaceship, and fly away from this horrible planet.

I curled in a ball on top of the safe and wept for awhile.

I sniffed, stowed the doll in my flight suit.

The first chain snapped the moment I stood up.

I had guessed that the chains on the box would be unreliable and probably fail me the moment I jumped, but I also remembered all those Warner Brothers cartoons where a character would climb up a falling ladder or severed rope, actually defy the force of gravity for several moments before becoming aware of what had happened and take the Nestea plunge, so I raced up the chains as quickly as possible, swinging over and grabbing the next chain whenever I felt the other one giving way.

Since I had looked up and seen the bolts on the ceiling breaking off, I had enough foresight to begin a pendulous swing, shifting my weight back and forth until I had gained enough momentum to touch a wall. It had been a risky gamble, but I managed to slap my palm to the side of the `chimney' above the moment the chain fell free.

I caught the wall, and used my sticky palms to climb into the hole.

The temperature got colder as I neared the top. I could see my breath, and when I touched my palms to the roof, the sticking action was painful, like placing your tongue on a flag pole in the dead of winter. It was a lucky thing I could still pull my hands away from a spot without leaving skin behind.

The chimney bent at a 90 degree angle. When I saw what lay in the connecting duct, I was in for another shock.

Someone had shoved the dead body of Papa Ron inside the compartment. His frozen remains were so wide that it would be impossible to crawl around him.

I'd have to drop his carcass into the pit.

The sick bastards.

It was cold, and I was hanging on a wall, but I felt something had to be said before I dropped my friend's mutilated corpse into a hole like a piece of refuse.

"Ron, I didn't know you for very long, but you seemed like a nice guy."

I sniffed, cried a little. "I wish I could have known you better. I'm sorry this had to happen to you. I know you're too dead to feel this, but I'm still sorry. If circumstances were different, I'd give you a decent burial, but there's only one way out of here. I hope you understand. I hope you went to heaven.'

I grabbed the frozen man under the armpits and drug him out, foot by foot, until the weight of his top half outweighed his bottom and he slid, board-like down the shaft.

The moment the cadaver hit the spears at the bottom, it shattered like a plaster statue, broken bits of freeze dried `stew meat' dropping into the shadows.

I shuddered and looked away, crawling into the duct.

The metal lining this cramped passageway had the kind of raised star patterning you'd see inside the doors of refrigerator trucks and the milk coolers in grocery stores.

It continued on for about five yards before opening up into a big drum shaped chamber containing eight children strapped to child sized electric chairs.

The chairs had been set up like something on a game show. Raised raised platform, flashing lights all around, reminiscent of that ticket game from the arcade, except this one had _monitors_ , with a big red button beneath each one.

The chair facing me held Caitlyn's skeleton.

I dropped to my knees and let the tears fall.


	40. Chapter 40: Black Goose

Upon closer examination, I couldn't really tell if I were looking at Caitlyn's skeleton. Sure, it had been placed in her uniform, and it was child-like, _female_ , in fact, but I was no CSI, and I wasn't used to identifying corpses by smell alone.

I dried my eyes, examining the screen beneath... _the victim's_ chair.

The monitor displayed an image of the astronaut lady, the boldface text reading `Ellen Ripley.'

All the chairs had monitors with names and faces, but they flashed by quickly, in a random sequence, names moving separately from the images, indicating, presumably, that I had to match the two together or someone would die.

The light traveled around the chairs, stopping at a random child, wherein I would hear a loud pop of electrical charge, a child's scream, and the light would move on.

The chairs had been clamped down with thick metal and glass pieces, as well as dangerous looking machinery that threatened to kill them all if I bypassed the test and tried to physically yank the children out.

I found Kamara at the far end. "Ellie! Thank God! You gotta help us out here!...The people in charge-I think they want you to remember your crew on the Nostromo. If you can just match the names to the faces on those screens, I think we can get out of here without anyone dying!"

A cold chill ran down my back. She was acting sketchy again, like she had when this whole thing with the Learning Town started...and the Night Forest, for that matter. "Kamara...I don't think I can."

"You're going to have to try. And quickly, before we all die."

I scowled at her. "If and when I get this puzzle figured out, we're going to have a little talk."

She gave me a smile. _"That's the spirit!"_

Six children, all of whom I personally saved from the slave ship, all clad in black and white striped prison uniforms. Counting Kamara, seven.

The three to Kamara's left, in order, were two black children, a boy and a girl, both with army crew cuts beneath the electric skullcap, and a plump faced Mexican girl with a runny nose she couldn't wipe, due to the restraints.

To Kamara's right, a bony little white girl with brown hair in a crew cut, a gaunt looking Asian kid, also buzz cut, and a Puerto Rican boy, shaved bald.

"You seem to know the right answers," I said to my friend. "How do I do this?"

"I really don't know that much, Ellie. I really don't. But I think it's like that old game show, _Press Your Luck_ , or a computerized slot machine. You time the thing just right and hit the buzzer when you see the pictures and the names match up."

Noting my skeptical expression, she added, "I caught a glimpse of it before they strapped me to the chair."

"You want to go first?"

Kamara swallowed. " _My life is in your hands_."

"That's not an answer."

"What do you want me to say? That I'd like to die first?"

"So you know I don't recognize anyone flashing on these screens."

Kamara paled. "I didn't say that. In fact, _it would be nice if you could remember all those faces. You'd be saving seven lives!_ "

My eyes narrowed. "How many faces am I expected to recognize?"

"Only seven. It used to be eight." She sighed and shook her head. "Caitlyn..."

The light stopped at the Asian kid. He yelped.

"Hurry!" Kamara hissed.

I made it a point to do hers last.

"I...don't think I know what I'm doing, so don't be offended if I come to you last."

 _"Take your time,"_ she sighed.

We as human beings make decisions like this all the time. We choose to feed family members before feeding the poor, we feed a friend before even considering the needs of a starving homeless person. Like it or not, we choose who lives and who dies simply by existing, and taking care of those we are closest to. That being said, I'd never had to make a decision like that in such a direct and observable manner.

How could I possibly pick the one who would die first? No reason would be adequate. Any criteria would be evil and discriminatory. It seemed the only fair method would be following the light and hitting the button wherever it stopped.

The light ran it circle, stopping at a buzz cut black girl.

I knelt in front of her, trying my best to look confident and reassuring. "Hi. My name's Ellie. What's your name?"

"Melba." She winced as the chair jolted her. "Like the toast. Please hurry, or I'll _be_ toast."

"Melba, I'm going to try to save you, but it wouldn't hurt to say a little prayer while I'm doing it. You know how to pray?"

She nodded. "Which god do I pray to?"

"Pray to the great one that rules over all."

Melba closed her eyes tightly, mouthing words.

I recognized only one face out of the series of images cycling past me, the face of a rather handsome Marine.

Duane Hicks. I knew him from Ernie's memories.

I slapped my hand down on the button, freezing his picture on the screen, then slapped it again to align it with the associated last name.

The contraption holding her clicked apart like a fancy bottle opener with a popped cork. Melba immediately jumped out of her chair, grabbing at the restraints that held the black boy.

"Dewan!" She tugged, but the thick metal bands did not budge. "That's Dewan, my brother! You've got to help him!"

"I was lucky to guess that one. I'm not sure you'd want him to go next."

"You've gotta try!"

"Even if I kill him?"

I pointed to the light, which now flickered away from us. In a low voice, I muttered, "Trust me, you don't want him to go next."

I rushed over to the place where the light had stopped, the bony white girl.

I had six faces to identify, and no clues.

A little woman with fuzzy monkey hair.

A plump bearded guy.

An English looking guy with stylish hair.

A really pale little man.

A skinny guy with a hat that kinda looked like Alice Cooper on a bad day, and a bearded black man with a bandanna.

The girl in the chair was named Amber. When I asked her to pray, she said, "That's not going to help. Either you can do this, or you can't. Like Yoda says, do or do not, there is no try."

I sighed. "Do you trust me to rescue you?"

"Yes."

Like it or not, I had to make a blind guess, based on information I did not have.

I swallowed hard, silently praying that God would save her from hell if I failed to save her life.

Since my odds were one in five, the only thing I could think to do was close my eyes and slap the button.

The cycling images stopped at the image of the Goober in the cap.

All the names flashing by could potentially be male names, even Ash and Lambert, but I figured this slack jawed fellow didn't have a cool name. He looked like a Dallas.

I slapped the button down. The poor girl spasmed as electricity coursed through her body.

"No!" I screamed.

The monitor got stuck on that image and name, and no amount of button pressing would make it release. In fact, it seemed to jolt her even more. I had no choice but to move on.

Following the light, I rushed to the next kid, the Asian boy, hoping I could stop the electrocution by answering something correctly.

His name: Kris. I noticed he had a cauliflower ear, perhaps due to getting in too many fights.

"Do you trust me?" I asked after we'd been introduced.

"No. But get it over with. I'm ready."

Closing my eyes, I slapped the button down twice at random.

I actually succeeded in matching the small pale faced man to the name Ash. Kris let out a heavy sigh of relief, fleeing from me the moment his restraints became unlocked.

He balked at the low refrigerated tunnel.

I laughed when I freed him, a mad sobbing laugh, but then I stopped when I saw Amber jerking and foaming at the mouth, her skin and hair smoking. They hadn't put in mouth guards, so she had probably already bit off her tongue, and soon her eyeballs would rupture. The sadistic bastards wanted me to see them die this way, instead of covering their heads like a decent executioner.

The screen still displayed my previous selection, and would not change when I pushed the button in. I had no choice but to keep going.

Five faces left to identify.

The light rolled around to the runny nosed Mexican girl, Gabriella. 

I figured I had a fifty-fifty shot at identifying the woman's picture, presuming their last names were not used as their first.

Since I thought the black man was Parker, I let the names scroll to Lambert and hit the button.

Success. It seemed my guesswork had improved. I had freed three children now, but at this point, nothing could save Amber. This appeared to be my punishment for not being someone's reincarnation.

Gabby wiped her nose on her sleeve. "Gracias."

Four to go.

By now, the computer system had released the selected image from Amber's screen, but the chair did not cease sending voltage through her body.

At her station, I tried to match the guy in the hat again.

Brett was the answer.

The current to Amber's electric chair switched off, her cuffs unsnapped, but it was too late. Her body slumped over dead.

I wept for her, but forced myself to focus on the children who still lived.

The Puerto Rican was named Eddie. He had scars on his forehead. I eyeballed the screen.

Doing some inductive guesswork about the fat bearded guy, I discovered `Dallas' to be the correct answer.

Kane didn't seem like something a fat bearded guy would call himself, so I hit the button when it said Dallas. My second guess would have been Parker, but I was glad I chose Dallas first.

The boy cheered as the restraints on his electric chair released. He ran around the room, searching for a way out.

I had winnowed it down to two choices. 50-50 odds.

I correctly identified Parker as being an ethnic stereotype. Dewan rushed from the chair, hugging his sister tightly.

The last name, Kane, selected itself by default.

As Kamara rose from her chair, I heard a loud clanking sound, like an enormous metal bolt slamming home in the body of a submarine.

Seven doors slid open on the otherwise featureless walls, revealing small lozenge shaped compartments.

Judging from this structural arrangement, I could guess where the eighth door would have been, but it had not opened.

"White Goose to Pod 1," a woman's voice ordered from a hidden speaker system.

When nobody obeyed, a number lit up above one of the pods, and the voice repeated itself.

The children murmured amongst themselves.

"Go, dummy!" Kris shouted to Eddie.

The kid rushed into the pod, and the door slid shut.

"Gold Goose to Pod 2."

Gabby marched to the her designated compartment.

"Vaya con Dios," I said to her.

"Orange Goose to Pod 3."

Kris obeyed.

"Purple Goose to Pod 4."

"Are they going to split us up?" Melba asked her brother.

"I hope not!" said Dewan. "At least not permanently."

The voice repeated the command.

The two shared one final hug. Melba entered her pod.

"Green Goose to Pod 5."

Nobody moved.

"Green Goose to Pod 5."

"That's Amber," Dewan muttered.

"Green Goose to Pod 5." The voice sounded impatient now. "Green Goose!"

"She's dead!" I yelled at the ceiling.

"Green Goose to Pod 5!"

"You idiot! Can't you see anything with your stupid cameras! _She's dead!_ What do want us to do, put her body in that little compartment?"

The door to Pod 5 slid shut with nobody inside.

"Blue Goose to Pod 6."

That was Dewan. "Good luck," I said as he departed.

"Red Goose to Pod 7."

Kamara gave me a sad look. "I wish I could say you did a good job, but..."

She shook her head, entering her pod.

I heard pneumatic hissing, like a money tube at a bank drive through, then I was alone.

"Black Goose, seat yourself in Chair 9."

Not understanding why I'd be called by this title, I looked around the room for another child. I saw none.

"Black Goose, seat yourself in Chair 9."

I pointed to my chest. "Me?"

"Ellen Ripley. You are Black Goose. Seat yourself in Chair 9."

I searched the chamber. "There's only eight chairs, and they're all child sized."

Hearing a low whirring noise, I turned my head and saw Kamara's chair receding into the floor, revealing an adult sized electric chair.

I swallowed hard. " _You want me to go there. To die._ "

Instead of answering, the woman only said, "Black Goose, seat yourself in Chair 9."

"Is this a test?" I shouted.

"Seat yourself in Chair 9, Black Goose."

I saw no doors or exits, even on the ceiling. I had no option but to do what the voice said.

I deserve this, I thought. For Amber.

The moment I seated myself, a springloaded mechanisms clamped cuffs on my wrists and ankles, and the metal hat slammed down over my head.

As the specter of death drew ever closer, I prayed to the Lord to cleanse my wicked soul.

I knew God didn't always spare people's _physical lives_. Martyrdom was part of the faith. For this reason, I didn't pray for my life. I merely asked for forgiveness.

I decided I probably deserved an execution for murder anyway.

To my surprise, I found myself descending through the floor on a hydraulic system.

Slowly I dropped through a chair sized concrete shaft, and after several feet, I settled on trolley tracks in a narrow tunnel, featureless save for its weathered cracks and ailing lighting sconces.

The electric chair shot forward like a mine car, speeding me through about a quarter mile of tunnel before coming to an abrupt halt at an inclined track.

You see them all the time on roller coasters, the powerful motorized machinery that drags your car up those steep hills.

The machinery caught the undercarriage of my electric chair, growling as it dragged the weight up its slanted track. My stomach did a flip-flop as I thought about what lay on the other side of that hill.

Roller coasters all have a similar rhythm. The clanking starts out slow, doom doom doom doom, and then the noises hit closer and closer together, clickety clack, clickety clack clack clack clack, and then that last cog clicks and the machine lets you go screaming to the bottom without motorized aid.

My electric chair, as it reached the crest, only rolled out onto a stone floor with a clickety clack and the foosh of pneumatic air brakes.

My restraints snapped open, and I could get up and move around once more.

I stood in a shadowy stone chamber, with exits to the north, east and west. When I looked through their crudely fashioned archways, I saw labyrinthine complexes of tunnels, doglegs, elbow bends and intersections, with no clear indication of actual direction.

"Mommy?" I heard the Caitlyn doll saying.

I suppressed a sob. "Yes, sweetie?"

"I love you."

The doll didn't say anything else.

I wiped the tears out of my eyes, peering down the right archway.

That's when I heard the lion snarling behind me.

When I spun around, I saw it wasn't exactly the same type of lion I was used to seeing on TV. After all, according to the exhibit on the Disney barge, lions were extinct.

This thing was a hybrid, definitely some kind of jungle cat, just not quite the king of beasts, small mane, its face bearing wolf-like attributes.

Still, its teeth were sharp and nasty, and it roared at me.

Not wanting to see if this were all bark, or a hologram for that matter, I rushed through the left archway and crawled up the wall, presumably out of the creature's reach.

The lion pursued me, barking, snarling and looking up, at times hopping and clawing at the stones in attempts to dislodge me.

I snapped my mouth claw at it, but it only made him retreat to a wary distance.

Don't think, I told myself. Just follow the wall.

So that's what I did. I kept crawling around and around, along those chilly walls that doubled back upon themselves before continuing straight.

The lion appeared to get bored, lying down on the floor as it watched me gain distance, but the moment I left its sight, it brought up the rear, licking its chops as it peered around the corner. I doubted the thing had been fed in a long, long time.

Of course you know I couldn't hold on to the walls forever. For every minute I crawled, there was a new ache from muscles I didn't know existed. Soon I would collapse out of exhaustion, to be devoured by a well rested lion.

At last, I could take no more. Digging my nails into the cracks between stones, I stopped where I was, heart threatening to pound out of my chest.

The lion padded closer, until it stood directly beneath me, salivating in hungry expectation.

"Fuck it," I gasped as I felt my fingers slipping.

I let go of the stones, launching myself onto the lion's back with a scream.

Laughing like a madman, I clamped my hands around the beast's throat, rolling it on its back as its strong muscled limbs swiped at me with its claws.

I punched the lion in the face with one hand a couple times, then, as it tried to wiggle away, I brought my hands back into choking position.

"Bad kitty!" I laughed. "Bad bad kitty!"

I rammed its head against the stones, but it had a hard skull.

As it squirmed in my grip, I leaned over its face, opened my mouth, and shot my claw through its skull.

The lion fell limp, and I dizzily staggered to my feet, sickened by the liver taste of the creature's brains that I couldn't seem to eliminate from my mouth.

I shuffled, zombie-like, along the passage, wondering if I'd ever find the way out.

Zombie. Brains. I giggled at my own private joke. If anyone wanted proof that my cheese had finally slipped off its cracker, there it was.

I rested against a wall for a few moments, but then I heard snarling again.

This time there was no foreplay. The second I saw the mangy beast coming around the corner, I killed it...then helped myself to one of its `drumsticks.'

I slept deep and untroubled next to the carcass, awakening only when a fly landed on my face. Then it was back to zombie shuffling through the maze.

When my hands slid across the shiny brass plates of an elevator, I nearly kept going.

It hadn't been the only door of this kind. Twice I had encountered a lift that required a special key, but I couldn't get in due to not knowing how to connect the wires once I melted the panel, not being able to pry open the heavy duty security doors, or simply being too thirsty and weak to keep at it with acidic saliva or blood.

At one point, I came across a window with no door and metal prison bars covering the opening. When I looked in, an animatronic monster roared at me and rattled the bars, causing me to shrink back in fright.

Upon closer examination, it appeared to be a cubicle with no visible way in or out, empty save for a hole where the wires fed into the robot, apparently a dummy from a spooky haunted house display.

But now, at last, I'd found an elevator, a shiny brass thing with an antique dial readout above the door frame.

No special key required. A simple press of the button, and I looked into an Otis Elevator with fine wood paneling and brass fittings.

The number panel went up to six, but it required a key to access most of them. I found I could only reopen the door at the labyrinth, or highlight number 1.

The doors slid closed, and I watched the arrow move from B to 1, passing, oddly enough, floors 6 through 2.

A couple minutes later, the doors came back open, and I stared into the lobby of the Learning Town hotel.

Kamara stared back at me from the threshold. "God, what took you so long?"

Then she gawked at my outfit. "And what did you do to yourself?"

"Long story," I mumbled.

I shuffled into the room, leaning on the bar for support.

I jumped back when I saw that `my friendly bartender' wore a feather bikini and orange spandex.

Charon! What was _she_ doing here?

The woman set down a drink mixer she'd been shaking, gesturing to the wide array of alcoholic drinks on display before the mirror. "So! What would you like?"

I fainted.


	41. Chapter 41: Cooperation

"It was a lot of stress," I heard Kamara saying to someone as I came to. "She's lost blood."

Someone propped my head up with a leather throw pillow.

Someone pried my lips open, giving me a drink of water, but it tasted...funny. My head swam, and I became unconscious.

I awoke naked in one of the upstairs rooms. The Caitlyn doll had been propped up alongside my pillow. I held it to my ear, but it made no noise.

Someone had wrapped the wounds on my arms, stomach and chest with a black sports tape that seemed to resist my acidic blood. When I peeled back one of these bandages, I found an open wound and exposed black shell. I put it back and took a shower. Lord knew when I'd get another opportunity to wash up.

When I came back out, I discovered, much to my chagrin, that my closet only contained one outfit, a French Minnie mouse costume like I'd worn on the Disney barge. Brand new, no signs of holes or tearing, as if ordered directly from the manufacturer. Although I found underwear in a dresser, the polka dot dress didn't cover very much, so I had to wear it over the leather jumpsuit, like before.

This time, someone had guessed my size correctly, so I could actually _breathe_ when I zipped it up all the way.

I don't know what possessed me to do it, but when I found a bottle of ammonia under the sink, I took one sip, then guzzled it to the halfway mark. For some reason it refreshed me.

Unsurprisingly, the door to my room was locked from the outside, but a key had been hidden inside my copy of _Living A Bountiful Life_.

The outer hallway looked identical to the other hotels in Learning Town, in fact, it could have been the very same one.

Hearing piteous wails and the pounding of small fists on doors, my heart broke, and I immediately set about trying to help.

Next door to me, I heard Gabby's voice. I knocked.

"Help! Ayudame!"

"Gabby, I want you to listen very carefully. Take a look around your room. There is a key in the nightstand next to your bed. It could be inside a book. Can you find it for me and unlock this door?"

"Uh huh."

A couple minutes later, the door came open. The girl rushed out and hugged me.

Under the light, I could see that the facial blemishes I once thought were bruises were actually birthmarks, a darker patch of skin on her right cheek reminding me of the South American continent.

"There," I said. "That wasn't so hard."

She grimaced. "Your breath smells like pee."

I could only shrug.

As I coached Eddie, who had been imprisoned in the room next door, Charon came limping past me on a cane, rapping on the door behind me.

I found Melba's room in the back corner.

"Look around carefully," I told the. "Check the nightstand. Do you see anything that can help you escape?"

"Yes," I heard her whimper.

"Good," I said. "Do you understand what you need to do?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Instead of hearing the lock clicking, I heard a soft gurgling noise, then silence.

"Melba?"

No answer.

"Melba?"

"Is there a problem?" I heard Eleven saying behind me. Apparently he had been consigned to the same crazy experiment.

The clone now wore desert camo military fatigues and shiny brown boots, the effect rather crisp and intimidating.

"Not sure," I muttered, banging on the door. "Melba!"

The door at last clicked open, but upon entering the room, I found the poor girl sprawled on the bed, eyes fixed vacantly at the ceiling, her mouth full of foam.

No breathing.

No pulse.

Next to the bed, I found the damning evidence, signs that my well intentioned advice had been carried to the letter.

Melba had discovered poison in the nightstand by her bed, washing it down with a glass of water.

She had escaped, all right. _From life._

"No!" I sobbed, clutching her lifeless hand. "That's not fair!"

 _"You have to be careful what you say to children of that age,"_ Charon said from the doorway. _"They can take what you say quite literally."_

A moment later, her brother entered. I tried to explain what had happened, but when he found out what had been done, he shouted at me. "Bitch! I'm not going to forget this!"

And then he stomped away with tears in his eyes.

"Did you take us off the boat to save us, or put us out of our misery?" Kris asked when he saw what lay in the bed.

I frowned. "I...don't know."

Four children had been in the rooms at the end of the hall. Dewan, Gabby, Eddie and Kris. I knocked on the door of the other room, but received no reply. I could only assume that it had been designated for Amber.

When I spotted Josh coming up to meet me, I gave him a hug. I froze when I noticed who he was with.

If including Charon in this little adventure hadn't been bad enough, we had another person of questionable character, my English teacher, Mrs. Lovelace, the same one that appeared in the Night Forest. Clad in a long lavender dress that looked more appropriate to a classroom than a military testing ground, the woman was very real, which made me that much more uncomfortable, despite my adult form having roughly a foot of height over her.

"Why Ms. Siebers!" the woman exclaimed when she caught me staring at her. "I scarcely recognized you, you've grown so _big!_ "

I smiled, despite my dislike of the woman. Her modesty, false or genuine, had a certain charm to it.

"Were you in my mind?" I asked the woman.

"That's something only you can answer. I'm not telepathic. _Was I_ in your mind?"

I shrugged.

She grinned. "What was I doing? Telling you not to end a sentence with a preposition?"

"Can the act, Mrs. Lovelace. You work on an _island_. In a _fake school_."

She gave me a nervous laugh. "You think I brainwashed you. Is that it?"

"I don't know what to think. I was in a simulation."

"And you believed everything you saw."

I furrowed my brow. "I don't know what to believe."

"I'm afraid I can't help you there. You need a _priest_ , or a _psychologist_ , not an English teacher."

"We're in a fake hotel in a military installation, Mrs. Lovelace. I want to know what your role is."

" _Fellow prisoner,_ " she said.

I rolled my eyes.

And then _this other guy_ steps out of the last room.

Very odd looking. Big jawed, crazy Elvis sideburns that went all the way down, and his outfit was the kind of men's suit you'd wear in the 1800's.

Over the course of my short life, I have learned to trust individuals in the following order: Aliens, friends, children, and the insane. Since this man belonged to category four, I decided I had to introduce myself.

"Hello?"

The man stood statue-like in his doorway.

"Excuse me, sir...My name is Ellie. What's your name?"

His eyes moved, but he continued giving me the silent treatment.

"If you're mute, or are on a vow of silence or something, that's fine. I was just thinking, maybe we can help each other."

I cast a sideways glance at my so-called `English teacher', lowering my voice when I noticed her eavesdropping. "I don't blame you."

Mrs. Lovelace looked like she knew something, but did not divulge the information, leaving us in awkward silence.

"This kinda puts a cramp in our little plan to rescue Granny and blow this pop stand, doesn't it?" Eleven remarked.

"Eleven-" I scolded.

"What, you think this midget and Charles Dickens are going to spoil our plan?"

I suppressed a giggle, then got serious when I noticed how he said "Our."

"Eleven...even if..."

The man's ape-like features looked crestfallen before I even finished.

"You don't want me to go on your little space trip with you."

"I..." I swallowed. "I..."

The man looked like a movie prison inmate, but he was a friend, and he'd saved my life. "Eleven, _it's not like that._ "

"Yeah?" he said. "Then tell me. What's it like?"

I sighed. "Look. If it breaks your heart, if it means that much to you, I, I...You can come along...But that's if we even get to that point."

He put a hand on my shoulder. "You're just being nice because I saved your life, and you think you owe me something. Maybe you do, but I don't want that to be the reason."

And then he laughed a little, in a way that seemed forced. "I never told anyone this before, but I'm _actually scared of heights_. I'd be a terrible astronaut. If you ever find a way off this planet, just find something for yourself that gives your life meaning and makes you happy, okay?"

I hugged him. "Thank you, Eleven."

He glanced down at my doll. "You're regressing."

"It's Caitlyn," I whispered. "I think she's dead."

"Did you see the body?"

I frowned. "I...I don't know. I thought I did, but then I heard her voice. I'm not sure if it's a recording or if she's alive...or if I'm just cracking up."

"Maybe if we look around, we can stumble over her."

" _There's an idea_." I smiled a little. "Do you ever get sick of being called a number?"

"Do you get sick of _your name_?"

I shrugged. "Do you ever get called anything but a number?"

"No."

"Would you like to?"

"What would you suggest?"

I wrinkled my brow in thought.

"What letter does it start with?"

"I'm thinking. I want it to be as nice as you are."

" _Aww._ What, you don't want me to surprise people?"

I chuckled.

"Let's go downstairs. Maybe a _beer_ will loosen your tongue...and maybe Charles Dickens's!"

I had mixed feelings about drink after my negative experiences in the Night Forest, but I agreed to sit with him at the bar.

As we marched down the balustraded staircase to the lobby, I heard Gabby screaming.

She stood in front of a loveseat, gawking open mouthed at something lurking below its cushions.

I rushed to her side to see what was the matter, then laughed when I saw the eyeless gray-white head emerging.

The creature had grown somewhat larger since I'd seen her last, not quite the larva I'd originally met, but I still recognized her, both from the blurry fishhook pattern on her shell, and the scent (my unconscious registered it before my brain did). "Lacethanny! How did _you_ get here!"

"There are many holes in these buildings," she said in her own tongue. "Not big enough for humans, but none too small for a Ss'sik'chtokiwij."

"Any sign of your...mother?"

Lacethanny sighed and shook her head. "The dirt of this place is not the same dirt I know. The trees are not the same. This is human trickery."

"So you don't know if we have a long or short distance to go."

Lacethanny growled in frustration. "This is the second encampment I have found that looks like this, and neither has any smells of the dead humans we remember, and no sign of hiding chemicals."

"What do you mean `hiding chemicals'?"

Lacethanny uttered another frustrated noise, rubbing her dome. "I do not know the word. It is when the `bad guy' on the `cop show' hides the blood...uh...Febreeze, like Jen-Jen use. He spray and he pour. Hiding chemicals."

" _Bleach,_ " I muttered.

Lacethanny nodded. "Despite all the difficulty, I am almost positive that I have scented the one named `David.'"

"You did!" I cried with excitement. "Where is he?"

Lacethanny flared her pores a little, then pointed a claw in a vaguely western direction. "Outside, that way...I think. We can search and find a clearer scent."

I nodded.

"Have you seen any of Sil's babies?" I asked her. "You know what I'm talking about, right? The ones that... _smell like pale ones?_ "

 _"I remember them,"_ Lacethanny said. "I haven't searched the area enough to know if they're here."

 _"We can come back for them_. I want to see David."

I paused. "What about Ernie or her...niece?"

Lacethanny shook her head.

"This is your friend?" Gabby asked.

"Yeah. Didn't you meet her on the boat?"

"No, I was saved by children, Latinos and crazy gringos with knives." She shuddered. "And the big black thing."

"Well this thing becomes a big black thing, but it's friendly."

Lacethanny waved a claw at her.

" _I_ saw him," Dewan said. "But I wish he'd just left me alone. I was better off on that boat!"

"What!" I cried. "You were _indentured servants_! You never would have earned your freedom, and your slavemasters were all pedophiles!"

"That may be true, but before you started meddling, my sister was _alive_!" He hit me in the stomach, then ran to the glass doors. Of course they wouldn't open.

Gabby gawked at me. "You just said the P word. You're going to lose points."

"I don't care."

This astonished her to speechlessness.

The boy tried the door two more times, then dropped to his knees and cried.

When Kamara saw this, she sat next to him, speaking in consoling tones. "Do you believe this life is all there is?"

The boy didn't respond, as if maybe that _was_ what he believed.

"Look, you can believe what you want, but many religions say there is a better place that people go to, one without death or pain or suffering or... _abuse._ "

"And what if there isn't a better place?"

"Well, at least your sister doesn't have to deal with pain or hardships or suffering any longer. Plus, I saw the body. She didn't die a _painful_ death. What if there _is_ an afterlife, and she's watching you being miserable? Would she like that?"

The boy grabbed her and cried on her chest.

He regained his composure. "You didn't just say all that for points, did you?"

Kamara shook her head. "We don't even have access to Afexun here. This is a highly restricted compound."

I could see Gabby's eyes widening at this.

"You mean like Area 51?" Dewan asked.

Kamara wrinkled her nose. " _No._ "

He pointed at the glass door. "What's `Bountiful 149-1-6, 3-5' mean?"

Kamara glanced back at me. "Ellie..."

I leaned over them, getting a better look.

It seemed someone had taken an icepick or some other sharp tool and carved a block of cypher into the glass, the length and width of an envelope. "I'll get my book."

As I approached the door to my room, I noticed the previously unanswered door swinging open, and a bald aged figure waddling out with a yawn and a rub of his eyes. It wasn't Amber in that room, after all.

"Xavier?" I asked.

He turned and stared at me. _"Ellie."_

"Xavier! What are you doing here?"

The man sighed. "Whatever the board of directors wants to do with me, I'm afraid. Is there coffee downstairs?"

I rolled my eyes. "I don't know."

The head of an entire department in this shady genetics company, the one that set the wheels of my first mission in motion, now relegated to a test animal in this giant rat maze. Of course, with so many problems resulting from his little project, I couldn't exactly blame the directors.

When I had fetched the book and stepped back into the hallway, the man was already gone downstairs.

Remembering the first two coded lines from the door, I thumbed through the book, attempting to locate the page, line and word of the item being used for the start of the secret message.

The book flew out of my hands as a tall figure in period clothes shoved me into a wall.

"What do you know about this place!" the man yelled in my ear.

"It's a little piece of hell inside a much larger hell," I growled.

The man stared at me for a long time before speaking again. "Meet me behind the gazebo at sundown." He let go.

I was going to tell him that technically an object in the dead center of town didn't have a `behind', but at that point Eleven grabbed the man by the collar and snarled, "Tell me why I shouldn't snap your puny neck like a twig!"

"It's okay, Eleven," I said. "He's, uh, _confused._ "

He released my attacker, who adjusted his collar and hurried away. "If he tries something like that again, I'll knock his head around a few times until things start making sense!"

I picked up my book, returning downstairs.

I knelt by the scrawled writing on the door, using it to decode each line.

"Did you think of a name for me yet?" Eleven asked.

"Not yet," I muttered. "I can only do a couple things mentally at a time."

After I'd decrypted a few more lines, he asked, "Would it be improper to say that that outfit looks good on you?"

I reddened. "I...I don't know. I didn't exactly pick it out."

"Still. It looks _nice._ "

"Uh...thanks, I guess."

I self consciously straightened the skirt to make sure it covered what it should.

"What's it say?" Eddie asked.

Since I had part of the first paragraph figured out, I muttered, "`The key is behind the landscape painting...'"

Instead of waiting for me to translate the next part, he rushed to the fireplace, snatching a key off the back of a large mountain landscape hanging above the mantelpiece.

When I flipped the painting over, I found a contour map, sectioned in grids, with X marks all over the place. The boy paid it no attention, hurriedly unlocking the double doors.

Charon pointed to the restaurant in the distance. "See that building over there, little boy? _What's where we eat all our meals_. Why don't you _run along_ , and see if they're serving anything."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," said Mr. Dickens. "I really wouldn't. Go ahead and try, but don't say I didn't warn you."

I stared at the man, wondering why he interrogated me on knowledge of the area if he already knew something, but I decided I'd get answers later.

"He's right," Xavier said. "I'd proceed with caution. There are a lot of unknown variables in this compound."

Eddie gave them both a nervous glance.

"I think they've probably got a good idea," I said.

 _"You just want to keep the food to yourself!"_

Eddie ran out across the town square, a rocky surface pitted with bumpy dirt mounds and piles of rock scattered in seemingly random arrangements.

The moment Eddie's foot landed on one of the rocks, he exploded.

The soil sprayed out dark from where the mine detonated, dust and pulverized rock mingled with blood, bits of bone and vital organs. The boy's scream was short and sharp, a quarter of his mangled body landing a yard away with a sickening thump.

"Oh my God!" Dewan cried.

He paced back and forth, then locked eyes with me. "What the fuck is this! You guys promised to take us to a better place! I didn't volunteer for any of this!"

"I didn't volunteer either," I said. "Sometimes life doesn't give you a good choice. Sometimes you just gotta choose the monster that's less evil than the other one."

His expression turned colder. _"And what are you?"_

I had no response to this.

"She's your best chance of getting through this alive," Eleven answered.

"Could have fooled me."

"Great," Kris complained. "Another dead kid." He looked at me with disdain. "I ask you again, did pull us off that boat just to kill us?"

"I'm not in charge here. I didn't ask to be here any more than you did."

"Maybe, but _you worked with them,"_ he insisted.

"Believe it or not, they're the lesser of two evils. You might die, someone might attack you, but they give you good food, a clean bed to sleep in, and normal bug free clothing."

Kris laughed. " _Yeah._ That getup looks _real normal._ "

"I've seen _business women_ wearing worse. The point is, everything they put you through, it's for the military. No creepy perverts forcing you to strip naked for food."

 _"That you know about,"_ Kris challenged.

I had no reply for that.

"Ellie's right," Kamara said. "We, _they_ may be brutal, but it's all for military objectives. What they do has _logic_. _Purpose_."

"And what's the logic in slaughtering kids?"

"Not everyone can pass the entrance exam. Just ask Ellie."

I cast her an uncomfortable look. Those were _friends_ , not game show contestants. Still, the point had been made: Either you were strong and survived, or you died. There were, after all, other _mes_ that hadn't `made it.'

"They take their war games seriously here. Watch your back."

"It was part of the negotiation, I'm afraid," Xavier said. "The board agreed to protect the children from the abuses of corporate slavemasters. Like it or not, nothing done to children on this island falls under the traditional definition of abuse."

"No," Dewan growled. "It's _murder!_ "

"According to the terms of the agreement," said Charon, "All children appropriated to the project may be subjected to military training exercises, and may be expended for the sake of achieving important military, scientific or medical advances."

"I never signed any such agreement," I said.

She gave me the smile of a cat that just ate a canary. "And you're not technically an American citizen. The only reason the board granted you this concession was due to your promise of continued cooperation in the project. The deaths you've witnessed up to this point are a reminder that a contract, verbal or otherwise, is meaningless without the mutual cooperation of both parties."

I grabbed the woman by the throat, shoving her into the bar. Feathers popped from her costume. "And what the hell are you?"

She struggled against my grip, but I was stronger.

"You know who I am," she gasped. _"Gold Rabbit."_

"I thought you were a duck."

"It's a codename, _Black Goose_. You'll need to choke a lot more people to find the person responsible for all this."

I squeezed her neck tighter. _"What do you know!"_

Surprisingly enough, she didn't fight back. She only smiled.

"Can I eat her?" Lacethanny asked me.

"No. I want some answers first."

"Don't bother," said Xavier. "She knows things, but it's not the information you need."

I loosened my grip, giving her a skeptical look. "And what do I need."

"You want to find your friends and a way off the island."

I let go of the woman. "Xave, do you know something she doesn't?"

" _I did_." He sighed. "Unfortunately, I believe the board has shuffled the metaphorical cards."

I shoved Charon against the bar again. "Your information is useless and you just urged a child to run out into a mine field. Give me one reason why I shouldn't just kill you right now!"

She smiled. "If you wanted to kill me, you would have done it back on the Disney boat."

"Yeah? Maybe I should have!"

"A Christian is supposed to _love their enemy._ "

I swallowed.

"Plus, _I wouldn't say my information is completely useless._ "

Lacethanny licked her lips. "Can I eat her now?"

"I'm sorely tempted."

Perhaps not understanding, she said, "Save me a leg piece."

I only sighed.

I left Charon alone after that.

I turned to the man with the sideburns. "You seriously wanted me to meet you by the gazebo."

"I may or may not know a way across the yard."

"You're crazy."

The man shrugged. "Sane people don't live that long here."

"Who are you? Why did you know about the mine field?"

He raised his hands defensively. _"I've been here before_. My name's Willie. I'm as in the dark as you are."

"What's the rest of the message say?" Kamara prompted.

"There's a map on the back of the painting. To navigate the minefield. It says the next clue is in the library."

"You think that'll get you off the island?" said Eleven.

I sighed. "No."

 _That_ piqued Dewan's attention. "Wait. You're trying to get out of _here?_ "

"That's the idea. I don't know how, but I'm going to do it somehow, or die trying."

"But where will you go? _Disney's everywhere._ "

"My friends have a _spaceship_. I need to find them and...get someone to pilot us off the planet."

"But where will you go? One of the offworld colonies?"

I stuck out my mouth claw. "I'll go wherever my friends go. If it's the Planet Vulcan, I'll go to the Planet Vulcan."

"Take me with you."

I rolled my eyes. "I thought you hated me."

"I do. You took all the family I have left. I can never forgive you for that. _But I want to live a good life. See new things. Maybe live in a place where people aren't starving me or beating me or trying to kill me. Maybe I'll even get a childhood, and an education."_

"I'd like that too," Gabby said.

I frowned. "Fine. You both can come along. Except if it doesn't have a breathable atmosphere. That would be a little dangerous."

"I'll ditch you the moment you get me where I want to go," Dewan said.

"Deal."

"So what's the plan? You going to the library, or do you have an actual strategy?"

I glanced at Mrs. Lovelace with suspicion. "I don't know. Right now there isn't much to go on."

Rocks peppered the dusty ground everywhere, so the placement of the mines wasn't immediately obvious. Regardless of what I came up with, I'd have to figure out how to navigate the minefield, and that meant calculating the map's pacing, and whether or not the map could be trusted at all.

"They had a mine field on an old show called _MASH_ ," Gabby said. "I caught it on the classic TV stream. The guy got halfway across it before they found out they had a bad map."

"I think I saw that one. I forget. How did they get out?"

She shrugged. _"They had a helicopter."_

 _"Gee, that's helpful,_ " Dewan muttered sarcastically.

I tore the map out of the frame for easy carrying, then established its pacing _and_ the validity by tossing a bottle of Crown Royal on the closest of the many X's. It made a nice fireball and sent glass shards everywhere.

 _"Waste of good Crown,"_ Eleven grumped.

The library stood to the southeast of me, with its neighboring dirt trail and alley of death. I'd have to pass the gazebo (Willie was crazy to think I'd meet him there) and dodge a bunch of other mines just to get there.

Judging by `the board's' performance so far, children were going to keep on dying, no matter what I did. The objective of getting to the library, therefore, did not appear to be of pressing importance. Instead, I asked my Ss'sik'chtokiwij companion to hone in on David's scent.

"How did you get to the building without being blown to pieces?" I asked as I watched her sniffing around.

"Days ago, when I was with the Golic man, in the other town, I discovered what `landmines' were. `Landmines' have a certain smell to them. Chemicals. Man touches."

"So we don't need the map."

"Maybe. I would not know places on the Disney boat without a map. Sometimes a rock may move and blow up other rocks. A map will tell us why."

So we kept it with us.

Lacethanny traveled to my immediate right, along the side of the building, which appeared to be a much safer idea than going out in the field.

Maria, Kris and Dewan, nervous about being blown up, kept close at my heels. Eleven, seeing as he only got in the way up front, and Kamara had the map, kept watch at the rear. Josh, at Kamara's instruction, made sure the kids didn't step too far out of bounds when they lagged behind. Gabby held my doll.

Willie leaned against the wall of the sheriff's office, watching us, Charon observing us with a look of displeasure from the hotel entrance. Mrs. Lovelace sat down on the front steps, also staying where she was.

The scent trail led us through a cluster of trees, to a wall.

Lacethanny stuck her head through a hole that even a child could not fit inside. "The scent gets stronger on the other end."

"Do you smell Caitlyn?" I asked.

The alien growled a little. "I...think."

I glanced up the wall, at the barbed wire. "Are there mines on the other side?"

"Not...that I'm aware of."

I placed my palm on the wall, preparing to climb.

"Wait," said Dewan. "How are you going to get up there?"

 _"I have my methods."_

When he saw me planting my other hand and my feet on the wall without slipping off, he gawked at me. "You want us to stay here, or are you carrying someone over?"

"Dunno. I'll have to see what's on the other side. If it's safe, I'll come back."

"Be careful."

I smirked. He may have been putting up a tough guy act, but I could tell he was just a scared kid on the inside. "I'll try."

As I scaled about a yard's height, Kamara rushed up to me with the Family Spirits doll. "Ellie. It's Caitlyn. She's trying to tell you something."

Holding back a sob, I took the doll and pressed it to my ear.

"Where are you going, mommy?" it said.

With emotion edging into my voice, I spoke into the doll. "Caitlyn! Honey, where are you?"

I didn't receive a response.

"Caitlyn, I'm going to come get you. I just want to find my friends first."

After a long pause, she answered, "I thought _I_ was your friend."

"You are, sweetie. Look. I want to find you and take you to meet my other friends. I'm going to get you out of here. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Another long pause. "I'm in the library."

"You're _alive?_ " I cried.

The doll fell silent.

"What did it say?" Dewan asked.

I told him.

"It's a trick. They don't want you finding your friend and getting out of here...I bet they don't even have _mines_ out there."

 _"You could go around the wall_ ," Gabby suggested. "And go back in where the library is."

It seemed like an idea. I tucked the doll into my top, climbing to the top of the wall.

The razor wire sparked as I got close to it. I knew I had to be careful or I'd get jolted and fall off, maybe hit a land mine.

Although rubber didn't breathe, I kinda wished my costume could have been made from the stuff, because now I wasn't sure how I'd prevent injury. My feet were bare, which helped on the walls, but it sucked if you wanted electrical insulation. As handy as the Family Spirit doll was as an insulator, I didn't want to use that either, or cut off the line of communication between me and Caitlyn.

At the moment, it seemed my best strategy would be to carefully spit on the wires and move them once they weren't connected to the current. By the time I got a section melted away, I felt I had honed spitting to a science.

I got Lacethanny to bring me a bottle of ammonia to `wet my whistle', so to speak (she was the only one I trusted not to get blown up) then some pillows to move the wire. The doll kept quiet, but I wasn't sure that was a good sign.

I expected to see hospitals or a city on the opposite side of the wall, but from my vantage point I only saw a weed choked forested area, an example of that "human trickery" Lacethanny warned me about.

Glancing back, I saw Xavier had stepped out of the hotel, engaging in conversation with Mrs. Lovelace.

I climbed down the wall's outer face, but stopped before I touched the dirt, calling to my Ss'sik'chtokiwij friend.

She poked her head out the hole.

"You sense any land mines?"

"No. At least, not any close."

I set my feet down on the rocky soil. "Which way now? Where does the scent get stronger?"

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij's pores flared, then she pointed a claw at a cluster of trees. "There. I think."

I picked up some rocks, tossed them around. Once satisfied that no mines were in the vicinity, I climbed back to the other side and hefted three of the children over to the woods.

When it came to be Kamara's turn, she declined. "I...I don't think this is a good idea. If you don't cooperate with the program, and play by the rules, bad things happen."

"Bad things have already happened. I'm not sure I'm even _able_ to cooperate."

I glanced hopefully at Josh.

He looked at Kamara, but she shook her head no.

"Kam," he said. "She obviously found a way out of the trap. Aren't you at all curious about what's over there?"

"No. _We have to do this according to procedure._ "

"There weren't any rules before," I said. "Only walls. They worked well enough. If they don't want me somewhere, they should build better ones."

"She's got a point, Kam."

Kamara only shook her head.

He gave me a pleading glance. " _You'll come back for her_ , right?"

I scowled. "I've...got a sneaky suspicion she can take care of herself...at least while we're here. Her and the other four at the hotel."

"All right." He offered his arms. "Maybe you can help me across to the library."

"Josh!" Kamara scolded.

He gave her an apologetic shrug. "It's nothing personal. It's not like I'm leaving you forever, I'm just cutting around a minefield."

"All right," she groaned. "I'm coming too, if only to watch you."

So I helped both of them over.

"What about me?" Eleven asked as I was carrying Kamara. "You want me to use the map and cut across the other way?"

I said "No. I'd rather have you with me." Implied in this statement was my intention _not_ to go to the library, but I didn't want to say that around Kamara or the doll.

Eleven grinned. "I _knew_ it! You _do_ have a thing for me!"

I blushed, rolled my eyes. " _Oh God._ " And then, in a louder voice, I said, "We'll talk about it...once I figure out if I can get your bulk over this wall."

It turned out it wasn't that easy to lift him, even in my adult form. Once I'd gotten Kamara safely on the other side, I had a real struggle. I dropped him halfway up the wall, then, on my second attempt, the one where I got nearer to the top, he managed to grab the concrete a moment before I slipped again.

As stated before, I could lift heavy things, but only for short amounts of time.

I tried to let him down gently, but I only got him halfway down the wall before getting worn out and dropping him. Still, he was okay.

"So..." he said as he was brushing himself off. "You were saying...?"

I reddened. "You're a good friend, and I like you. If that's... _a thing_...I guess you're right."

Eleven grinned. _"I can live with that."_

Following Lacethanny's finely honed sense of smell, we crept ahead through the underbrush. At times, I thought I could detect David's scent myself.

I heard a sharp crack of a gun.

Kris yelped, collapsing to the ground with a shattered skull.

Gabby cried and clutched her arm as another bullet cracked from somewhere in the foliage.

"Everyone down on the ground!" Eleven yelled.

My companions quickly obeyed.

"Every action has an equal and opposite reaction," I heard a voice saying through the doll. It was the same voice that had told the children in the electric chair room to get into the pods.

"Who are you!" I shouted.

"The Gold Rat."

 _And I am the walrus_ , I thought. "Where's Caitlyn!"

"Your cooperation will be appreciated," the voice answered.

The doll fell silent.


	42. Chapter 42: T-134

Kamara pulled up Gabby's sleeve, examining the damage. "Looks like the bullet went out one side and came out the other."

"Will I live?" the girl whimpered.

"Maybe if we tie off the bleeding part and get you some stitches."

"Who's shooting at us?" I asked Eleven. "Can you tell?"

The man shook his head. "Whoever they are, they don't like to stick their heads up."

I slapped Lacethanny on the back. "There you go, girl. _Chow time._ "

Grinning, the Ss'sik'chtokiwij darted into the foliage. I heard shots, then screaming.

"Those sound like _kids_ ," Dewan said.

I frowned. _"I know._ _But Kris was a kid, too."_

Kamara ripped off part of her prison outfit, tying it around Gabby's wound. _"Wish we had some thread..."_

I heard more screaming.

"Kamara," I said. "Am I still in the Night Forest?"

She stared at me. "Why do you think you're in the Night Forest?"

"I've never been in it before. It's hard to tell what's real and what isn't."

"The Night Forest is set in the _past_ , Ellie. It's part of the nostalgia people go into the simulations to see."

"You're saying the dead of the present want to go back to an era where their pedophilia and stuff aren't accepted?"

"There's different _regions_ , and _religious zones_. For the most part, you're either going to be in the _Happy Days_ scenario, the 1960's, the eighties, or 2016."

"That explains the Def Leppard shirts and the bell bottoms," I muttered. "But what if someone made a new one, one that's super realistic?"

She rolled her eyes. "Then the Matrix has you."

"When I first awoke, I was in a sensory deprivation tank, and I had probes in my skull..."

 _"I can see the probes,"_ she agreed.

"Do you know who put me under?"

Kamara shrugged. "It could be _anyone_. You already know you're part of a _program._ "

"What about that little game of musical electric chairs? How did you know so much about _that?_ "

She sighed. "You already know I'm part of the organization. They only told me the _rules_. You can understand why I had a vested interest in you succeeding."

"Wait," Dewan said. "You're one of _them?_ "

" _I was._ But now the rules have changed."

He scowled at her. "You'd better not be lying."

Eleven took off his shirt, raising it on a stick. "I didn't have a cowboy hat," he explained when I stared.

He wasn't that bad looking.

No one shot at the shirt, so we all stood back up. I gave the doll back to Gabby to carry. It wasn't that heavy, and it seemed to make her feel like less of a liability.

"Looks like the coast is clear," Eleven said as he buttoned up and crept ahead through the bushes. "Hope I didn't just brush myself with poison ivy."

We traveled through a kilometer of forest without a problem. Since Lacethanny had disappeared, we kept close to the wall, throwing rocks to check for mines and other traps. From time to time, I'd have to scale the wall to check how close we were to the library.

"This is a tropical climate zone," I said to Kamara. "Why do they have cedars and oaks and other deciduous stuff?"

"The original Ellen Ripley didn't live in a jungle, Ellie."

"You mean the original clone?"

She nodded, though I could tell she was hiding something.

"How is this even possible? The plants?"

"The way cherry trees got imported to Japan, or pineapples to certain parts of Hawaii. Science and money."

I found Lacethanny chewing on one of the bodies, a freckly boy I recognized from the upper level of the Ariel. I didn't know his story, but someone had taught him how to take another child down with a head shot, so I wasn't sorry. He still clasped the handle of a pistol.

Well, until Eleven took it.

"The scent is much stronger now," Lacethanny cried.

Then, as she scampered over a felled log, she pointed straight ahead. "Look!"

Peering between a pair of leafy boughs, I saw it, a large gray dome in a clearing.

I'd heard theories about using prefabricated concrete bubbles for housing in third world countries, but had never seen one in real life.

It had the dimensions of a good sized house, its windows long and oval, reminding me of the viewing ports at zoo exhibits. The roof had solar panels, but I could see a wind turbine through the trees, to supply additional power. Judging by the little satellite dish, I guessed the owner had cable.

In the distance behind it, I could see a wooden deck with furniture, a beach, and the ocean past that.

As attractive as the water was, I knew you couldn't go anywhere. Based on what I knew about geography, you wouldn't have been able to find a continental landmass for thousands of miles.

At first, I wasn't sure whose home this was, until I noticed the paint job. Someone had painted a big cross on one wall, and an ichythus over the door.

Pretending not to notice the child's severed limb in the Ss'sik'chtokiwij's claw, I asked, "Any land mines?"

Lacethanny took a bite, then shook her head. "I think we're safe."

I found David reclining in a hammock stretched between two trees, idly stroking the head of the baby asleep on his chest. He now wore a dress-like Weghesh, owl patterned like before, but in red and black. It almost seemed masculine. Almost.

Sarah, clad in a yellow sundress and a straw hat, dug around in a garden nearby, from time to time glancing up and smiling at the man.

Mr. Barnes fell out of his hammock the moment we stepped into the clearing. The baby cried.

I waved to him. "Hi, David!"

He bounced the baby, patted it, tried to calm it down. "Do I know you?"

 _Of course he wouldn't recognize me,_ I thought. _I was a little girl, then I got in a cocoon that aged me ten years._ "It's me. Ellie. I've had...a growth spurt."

 _"It's you!"_ He chuckled. I caught him admiring the curves of my leather suit. "What's with the getup?"

I stared at him. "You mean you haven't heard?"

He pointed at the dish. "You think I actually watch that shit?"

I told him the basic gist of what I went through.

He frowned, an expression of puzzlement showing on his face.

"What."

"How could you be doing all that when you've been coming by every week to drop off supplies?"

Other versions of me had been visiting David.

It made perfect sense. Clones were the island's army. Its labor force. "Was it an adult me, or a young me?"

David's eyes narrowed. "Hold on. You're saying you're actually the grown up version of the little girl."

"Yes."

"The little girl visits me every other day. She says _her_ name is Ellie. She's actually pretty helpful. She's shown me how to fix solar panels and garden...The big one...she _does_ look like you...she calls herself The Purple Rooster."

 _"We're clones,_ David. But I'm the one that was with you in _that town_. I was the only one that believe you had an alien wife."

"That's the same thing she told me yesterday. Maybe there _is_ something to your `clone' theory."

I shivered. "David, I think that other me has been lying to you."

 _"She told me you'd say that."_

I sighed. "Have you at least seen Caitlyn?"

"Who?"

I smacked my face, narrowed my eyes at the little Ss'sik'chtokiwij. "I thought you said she was here!"

She growled. "I never said that."

 _"You said the scent was stronger here!_ "

"Yes. _Sarah and David's scent was quite strong._ "

I groaned in frustration.

Hearing Gabby whimpering something, Kamara blurted, "Sorry to interrupt, but we've got _wounded_. Do you have any thread?"

"Yeah." David led us through the door of the concrete dome, into a posh living room, with a full leather furniture set, framed religious paintings, and a big TV with a blanket thrown over the screen.

When he noticed me staring at the latter, David muttered, "Sometimes I listen to the news, but there's always naked people and people in their underwear. I don't want to see all that."

"Yeah," Kamara said. _"You prefer something with a fur coat and a tail."_

"I'm actually a little tempted by Abreya programming too. Adultery is adultery."

"What adultery? You're not literally sleeping with them."

 _"You are in your mind. It makes you impure."_

Kamara stared at him like he were insane.

"Why don't you just listen to the radio?" I asked.

He laughed. "All I get is music. I can get _podcasts_ , of course, but everything has a liberal bias, even the so-called `conservative' channels, hence why I didn't hear about Mickey's Titanic. Mostly I use the TV to watch old sitcoms and Columbo."

"Nice place," Eleven muttered. "If you like funeral parlor waiting rooms."

David shrugged. "It reminds me to keep my thoughts and behavior pure."

Sarah joined us in the room. "Honey, who are these people?"

It seemed that David had coached the woman on speaking with her damaged tongue. The lisp was barely noticeable.

"I don't know," he answered in fluent Ss'sik'chtokiwij. "I think they're friends. Maybe."

It seemed they had _both_ improved their speaking skills in my absence.

The baby began crying. David handed the boy to Sarah. "He needs to be fed."

Sarah undid her top and fed the child, not caring that people were watching.

I pointed to the baby. "What's _his_ name?"

"Oh?" David frowned. "I named him Haman."

"That sounds nice," I said.

David lowered his voice. "Not really. I named him after one of the most terrible men in the bible. Just don't tell Sarah that."

The ceiling was flat, not rounded, indicating that they had some sort of attic. As curious as I was, I didn't have any time to see what was up there.

He led us into a small den, with books, a computer, and various craft supplies, which, David said, kept his human wife "Busy and out of trouble." He used the tone of a parent coping with a spoiled rebellious child.

Seeing a picture of a Ss'sik'chtokiwij on the cover of a book, I picked it up.

"I got curious, so I asked someone to send me that... _from that library._ It's terrible. The woman only meets one Ss'sik'chtokiwij, and it kills people. They dump molten lead on its head."

"Maybe that's how people at this place would have liked it?"

"I somehow don't think so. Weyland seemed pretty interested in Ss'sik'chtokiwij."

I put the book back.

Kamara dug out a needle and thread, and after David directed her to the first aid kit ("I'm not a husband, I'm a babysitter") Kamara was sewing the girl up and packing the wound with gauze.

"Did the other me say she was a Christian?" I asked.

David nodded. "It's easy to say you're a Christian. It's a different matter to actually live it. But she _has_ been a nice decent girl. I've even shared the gospel with her."

"I actually believe in Jesus." I told him about my near death experience.

"That's great. But I'm more interested in people who _live_ their faith. You know, like Mother Teresa. Still, I'm glad you believe in him and have more or less biblical beliefs. Want to have a little bible study?"

I shook my head. " _Maybe some other time._ What about promising to free you from this place, reunite you with your wife and take you off the planet in your own ship? Did the girl promise to do any of that?"

 _"Guep._ Me and Ellie had a talk about that a couple days ago. We agreed that it's impossible. I have a _human baby with my chromosomes_ , two wives, an egg and three children. _I can't leave._ "

"What if I could free...all of them? What then?"

"You _must_ be clones, because the girl asked me the same thing."

I grabbed his arm. "Come with us. We're going to find Pillow and all your children."

David burst out laughing. _"You just don't give up, do you?"_

He dropped his mirth when he noticed my serious expression. "I can't. Raising this baby, keeping Sarah as a wife, staying here...it's all part of the deal. I want what's best for Pillow and the kids."

I crossed my arms, staring out the window. Julia, apparently returning from a squirrel hunting expedition, clambered down the tree, sniffing my Ss'sik'chtokiwij companion. The two hissed at each other.

I paced angrily in front of the house's owner. "You're seriously telling me that if I freed your wife and kids, you'd still stick to their stupid rules and live in this bubble with a woman you can't stand, and a baby that technically isn't even yours."

 _"It could be worse._ I've...actually gotten used to her. And the baby, well...some people _long_ to have a baby. A family. I'm pretty lucky when you think about it that way."

"Did you sleep with her?"

"What?" I could tell he heard me, he just didn't want to acknowledge it with a reply.

"Did you sleep with Sarah?"

"N-no. As much as she has been trying to get into my pants..."

I glanced at his skirt. Before I could open my mouth, he blurted, " _You know what I mean_. Nothing happened. _I've gotten used to sleeping on the couch."_

"So you're holding out for Pillow, despite the fact you believe it's impossible for you to ever get back together."

He reddened. "Maybe?"

"You doubt me. That's the whole thing, isn't it? You don't believe I can do it."

"No. I _know_ you can't do it."

"Where's your _faith_ , Barnes? The mountain moving faith that all Christians are supposed to have?"

"Which faith? The faith that led John the Baptist to be beheaded, or the faith that led Jesus to die on the cross? Because I _got_ that faith."

"So you're ready to die. What about the faith that compels you to _live?_ "

He swallowed, then spread his arms, indicating the room. _"There is great gain in godliness with contentment."_

I could tell he noticed my exasperated expression, for then he added, "Look, I know you _think_ you can go up against those guys, but you don't have a chance."

"So that's it, then. You've got a neat biblical answer for being a coward and taking the easy way out."

"If I wanted to take the easy way out, I could just commit suicide."

I rolled my eyes. _"You know what I meant."_

David let out an exasperated sigh. "Look. Tell you what. Free my family, fly them back here in that ship. Then we'll talk."

"I was hoping you could help me."

"Me?" he laughed. "I'll only get in the way."

Looking pale, Gabby handed me the doll. "It's talking again. I think you'd better take it."

I held the doll to my ear, trembling with fear and anger.

"Tell your alien friends to stand down, or this toy will serve its original intended purpose." It was that woman again. The gold rat.

 _`Original intended purpose,'_ I thought. For a moment, my pulse quickened with optimism. "You mean Caitlyn is alive?"

It appeared that divulging the truth angered the woman. Instead of answering, she raised her voice. "Tell your aliens to stand down!"

I heard gunshots and screaming. My four young friends were still present with me inside the house, but someone else had disappeared.

"What's going on out there?" David cried.

"I don't know." I looked out the window.

Julie and Lacethanny stood sentry outside the building, growling at a troop of kids with guns. There had been casualties.

"Stop those monsters from attacking!"

"How can I trust that you won't just kill her?" I asked the doll. "How do I know you haven't killed her already?"

The doll fell silent. More child soldiers died.

At last the voice said, "You have one minute to comply."

"What did the doll say?" Dewan asked me.

I told him about the threat.

"Ignore that bitch. GI Joe wouldn't have saved all those people from Nazi Jewmany if he listened to Hitler's threats."

"It's _Germany_ ," I corrected. "GI Joe isn't real. It was the _Allies_ that fought the Nazis. And they _rescued Jews_."

This argument sailed right over his head. "What?"

"Forget it," I groaned. "You fail history, but you've got a point. I have to take risks or I'll never win this war."

An army of children now surrounded the house, all armed with guns. The red dots of laser scopes danced across the windows. I ducked as a bullet shattered the glass.

David pressed a button, and metal panels slid down over all the windows. "Storm proofing. In case there's a hurricane."

"Thanks."

He wasn't in a jovial mood. "What have you done!"

"Nothing! I only came to see you instead of walking through a mine field. If I knew you'd treat me like this, I wouldn't have bothered! Some friend you are!"

He had this look like he wanted to send me away, but didn't say it.

I didn't want to give in to the woman's demands, especially if Caitlyn had already died, but she made it sound like they still held the girl hostage, and even got angry when I tried to find out.

...Unless Caitlyn was already dead and she was angry about not having any leverage to use against me.

"They've got Caitlyn," I said. "They're threatening to kill her."

"And how do we know she isn't already dead?" Dewan asked.

"I don't. But there's a chance she's still alive."

"You're going to risk four kids for the sake of one."

"They only want the aliens to stop attacking."

 _"That's because they know we're winning. Once we stop, they can get the upper hand."_

I frowned.

"You want to win this thing, or save one kid that's probably dead?"

"They'll probably ask for something else once you do what they say," Eleven agreed.

"I can't just abandon her!"

I could tell Dewan disagreed, just by the look he gave me.

"Look. If you kids want to hide here, you can, but I need to find out if Caitlyn is all right."

"No place is safe. You surrender, and we all go down."

"I don't see any choice."

"I told you it wouldn't work," David said. "They're too strong."

"Strength has nothing to do with it," said Dewan. "They're just _sneaky underhanded sons of bitches._ "

Strategically, it didn't make any sense, but Caitlyn was _family_. I couldn't just leave her to die, if she wasn't dead.

I stepped outside, ordering both Ss'sik'chtokiwij to stop.

Now the doll said, "Wait for Gold Rabbit to escort your team to the rendezvous point."

I and Eleven had dozens of laser sights aimed at our vital organs. Even with the pistol in my friend's possession, we didn't have a choice but to obey.

The child soldiers had radios. Someone must have told them that I had more team members inside, because a blonde boy that looked like Dennis the Menace started shouting for them to come out and join us, everyone except David and his little immediate family.

We stood in an uncomfortable silence, hands raised, as the enemy kids murmured to one another. They kept pointing at the Ss'sik'chtokiwij, but it seemed none of them had the strength or resources to restrain the two, so they just kept their distance and shouted for us to keep the creatures still and in sight at all times.

At last I saw Charon calmly strolling through the forest with two bound captives in tow behind her, Lovelace and Willie.

"Where's Xavier?" I asked.

No one answered.

And then I saw little T-134 stepping out of the foliage, armed with a small machine gun.

That little runt from the Ariel, the one that shot me.

"Hello Black Goose." She gave me a nasty smile. "Your ass is mine now. _We're going to have so much fun!_ "

The girl pulled out a switchblade, extending the sharp. "Your friends killed my future husband. You didn't kill him by your own hand, but I still hold you responsible for what happened."

"Why the knife?" I said. "You have an _army_. And a _gun_. You could just shoot me."

"Oh I don't want to kill you, Ms. Ripley. I just want you to _suffer_. You see, I've heard it takes a long time for someone to die from a _stomach wound..._ "

With that, she stabbed me.

The girl screamed as my caustic blood splashed her knife wielding hand., eating away the skin.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I would have told you, but you were in such a rush to stab me that I didn't have time to explain."

"You bitch!" she spat. _"You did that on purpose!"_

I frowned as the metal from the blade melted out of my body, hoping that none of it remained in there to infect anything. "What can I say? I don't like being stabbed."

"Bitch! I don't care what you like or don't like! _You killed my boyfriend!"_

"You saw me when I got shot last time. You'd think you would have noticed."

"You think I'd notice some self righteous straight edger bitch like you?"

I shrugged. "Just saying. It would have saved some trouble."

The girl glared at me.

"I think David has a first aid kit. I'm sure he's treated a few of those types of burns, being as there's a Ss'sik'chtokiwij in his house."

T-134 clutched her hand. "Fuck that. We've got a _hospital._ "

"When were you going to tell me that you could do that?" Dewan hissed to me.

"Never. It's not important. I can still die."

"When I'm finished with you," T-134 said. "You're going to wish you did."

She aimed her gun at me, but I stepped out of the way when she aimed.

"Don't move, bitch, You fucked with me and now I want satisfaction."

"Gee. Sorry to disappoint."

She shot me twice, again in the stomach area.

"Great," I said as I watched parts of my costume dissolve. "Thanks for ruining my outfit."

"You're mentally fucked up in the head."

"Coming from you, that's a compliment."

"You want to get shot again?"

I raised my hands higher, not saying a word.

She waved her gun in the direction of the trees. _"Let's go for a little walk_."

"Where are we going?" I asked.

T-134 cocked the hammer of the gun, urging me ahead. _"That's for me to know, and you to find out."_

A platoon of armed children surrounded us, ensuring that nobody ran off, at risk or injury or death.

The children had this look on their faces like they liked me, and were maybe even grateful for being rescued, but had to do what the alpha dog told them.

Not desiring to get shot, I and my companions walked along in silence.

We marched through weeds and brush, weaving around a hill scattered with large gnarly tree roots that formed natural dirt steps. The hill crested, then dipped down, cutting across a dry streambed, up and across a field of crab grass and ragweed, to a rock and gravel road terminating at another walled compound.

The moment I came close, I noticed the crucified figure in the labcoat. And the blood.

The victim, of course, could not be nailed to concrete, so someone had used power tools to bolt his wrists and ankles to the surface, through sensitive bone and muscle tissue.

His blood had not simply streamed down the concrete. _Someone had painted with it_ , creating a huge red mural of a laughing bird around the cadaver.

A short bald man with a ball gag over his mouth to keep his screams from being heard.

When I saw the face, I couldn't help but cry. _"Xave..."_

"He got too expensive," T-134 said without an ounce of emotion.

The girl smiled when she saw me wiping away tears. " _Aww._..were you two _close?_ "

"What do _you_ think?" I snapped. "...Did you do this?"

"No, but I wish I could have. You know what they say, _karma is a bitch._ "

"You must still be waiting for yours," I said.

"What, _from a previous life?"_

I shook my head. "There's so much sin in your current one that I wouldn't worry about the shit you did in your imaginary ones. You should be busy enough as it is."

" _`Let he who is without sin cast the first stone,'"_ she quoted.

"That's great. Did you read that in the bible yourself, or did someone on the internet spoonfeed it to you?"

"Does it matter?"

"No. I already know you're too lazy to look it up yourself."

She laughed. "Lazy? _Me?_ Just because I don't like reading fiction?"

"It's not fiction-"

She hit me with a pistol. "Shut up! You're not going to proselytize me!"

 _"I know_. I like to keep my goals realistic."

T-134 hit me again. I would have said it didn't hurt that much, but I didn't want to get shot. "Look. Now we've both lost someone we've cared about. Aren't we even?"

In response, she waved her gun in the direction of a large gate a few yards down the wall. "Move."

A dirt path led us into a carbon copy of the old western ghost town I'd just left, though judging by the careless movements of my captors, one lacking a mine field.

Someone had converted the place into a well oiled military machine, run and operated by children.

All around us, I saw kids, dressed in proper military uniforms and meticulously shined boots. They jogged around the compound shouting cadences, did calisthenics in lines, ran through obstacle courses, practiced with tear gas, concussion grenades, fired at targets at shooting ranges, drove jeeps (someone had done a height adjustment so they could reach the pedals) it was like General Colin Powell had opened a daycare center.

"What is all this?"

Willie quoted my words back to me. " _A piece of hell inside a larger hell_."

"I didn't know West Point had a junior prep school," Eleven dryly observed.

Xavier was right. I couldn't exactly call this child abuse. As creepy and unsettling as all of this was, the kids looked healthy, the exercise built muscle, and they were being taught important skills, maybe even military discipline.

A pair of Lilliputian MPs confiscated Eleven's pistol, and we got ushered further in.

"To answer your earlier question, Black Goose," said T-134. "No, we're not `even.' Do I believe I've taken your loved one? Yes, but that's not all you took from me. You see, I used to have _status_. _Privilege_. I was on the inside track to a good permanent job in the Disney corporation, and now I'm forced to go back and start from the ground level again."

"What, _now I'm paying for emotional damages?"_

"Shut up and come with me."

T-134 led us across this little army base, to the old timey bank.

"What are we doing now?"

 _"I think we're going to make a deposit,"_ Eleven suggested.

"Quiet!" the girl yelled. "The next person...or _thing_ that speaks without permission will be shot!"

Julia and Lacethanny flinched at this. So did Josh, Dewan and Gabby. The others, however, seemed unruffled, perhaps due to being used to threats.

T-134 ordered two guards to open the bank doors, and we got led inside the lobby.

Wood floors, old fashioned teller windows with wrought iron bars, a mounted buffalo head on the wall, bullet safe, antique counting machinery.

At odds with the rustic western decor, a massive chrome vault door stood open to one side of the teller station, its circular maw displaying dozens of silver safety deposit boxes.

T-134 pointed to the vault. "Put your alien friends in there."

"Don't do it!" Dewan hissed. "They're our best chance of winning against them!"

"Three strikes and you're out, asshole," the girl said. "Don't let me catch you talking again."

Dewan fell silent.

"I'm sorry," I said to Julie and Lacethanny in Ss'sik'chtokiwij. "I can't let them kill innocent children."

The two looked depressed, but they each understood the value of human life, or friendship, at least, so they resigned themselves to imprisonment.

"You had better not have been telling them plans for killing me," the girl said. "I'll make your life a living hell."

A pair of child soldiers shut and locked the vault door.

"There's air in that thing, isn't there?"

 _"Strike two_ ," T-134 said. "Speak out of turn again and see if I'm playing around!"

No one argued, except with their eyes.

T-134 led us out to a section of ground next to the gazebo.

"On your knees!" she barked. "All of you!"

Lovelace, Willie and Kamara obeyed, but I and the others just stood there, silently challenging her. _You're just a child! Why should we..._

"Are you going to kneel, or do you want me to start shooting people?"

We all got down on our knees.

For a moment, the girl gloated, pacing back and forth, waving her gun. It was a power trip.

She stopped in front of me. "Crawl to me on all fours."

I only rolled my eyes.

She pointed the gun at Dewan. "Now."

I did what she asked.

"Bark like a dog."

The gun remained pointed at the boy. Her other hand gestured to the platoon, indicating that they too should train their weapons on him.

I gave a halfhearted bark.

 _"You can do better than that."_

And so I barked louder.

"Don't let her boss you around!" Gabby cried. "Kill that bitch!"

T-134 pressed her pistol to the girl's forehead, cocked back the hammer.

She signaled to `Dennis' and Mrs. Lovelace got shot instead.

Why her? I thought. Why shoot a woman that I had little or no attachment to?

Well, I guess she was my _teacher_ , so I had _some_ attachment to her, and I couldn't help but feel sorry for her, but still...

Whatever the rationale, I knew better than to ask.

I didn't even dare ask if Mrs. Lovelace would receive medical attention.

"Run in a circle, doggie."

I stood up, but she snapped, " _On your knees._ "

I got my pant legs dirty circling around like she said.

She made me bark and hop, then, as I circled again, she told me "Wag your tail."

My costume had no tail. She was asking for butt wiggling. When I did as she commanded, she asked, "Are you a happy dog?"

Afraid to speak, I gave her a nervous woof.

"I said, are you a happy dog?"

"Woof," I said.

 _"You're not wagging your tail enough."_

I had to humor her.

"You hurt my hand, doggie. I want you to _lick it_ and _make it better._ "

Doing this actually made me _hungry_ , but I couldn't risk biting her.

She pulled her hand away, strutting in front of her little troop. "Get a load of this bimbo! She'd probably suck a big green cock if it meant saving one of her loser friends!"

And what did _you_ do to get promoted in Disney? I thought, but didn't voice my opinion.

She leered at me with contempt, breathing right in my face. "My God! Where's your self respect!"

I assumed her question was rhetorical, for if I spoke, she would shoot someone.

Was she projecting her own insecurities on me? Was _that_ the game here?

I was still in doggie position, so she used me like a bench.

She pointed to Eleven. "Is that your boyfriend there?"

I cringed.

"Bitch, I asked you a question!"

"No."

"Yeah? Then why's he hanging around with you and giving you those eyes?"

I didn't answer.

"If I ask you a question, bitch, you answer it!"

"He's weird. He's a friend, and he's male, but there's nothing romantic about it."

"Good. _You don't know how happy it makes me to learn that you don't have an inkling about what it's like to have true romantic love."_

I wanted to reply that I doubted she could even spell romantic, let alone know what romance was, but of course I couldn't.

A small blonde uniformed figure broke ranks to get a better look at me.

"Mom?"

I gawked at her. With her buzz cut hair, I could barely recognize her. "Caitlyn?"

"The count is starting over," the leader said. "Strike one."


	43. Chapter 43: Dead Reference

Throughout our initiation into this little dictatorship, Charon had been impassively observing the proceedings, smoking in silence as I humiliated myself.

Was _she_ the one who killed Xavier? If so, she didn't appear to be the gloating type. She hadn't looked pleased by that gruesome execution, nor by my undignified antics.

She had only taken a pull as she watched me for a moment, then walked off in apparent disgust.

When I glanced back at Eleven, I could see the hurt and disappointment in his eyes, but macho guys like him make a practice out of hiding their true feelings. When our eyes met, he looked away, stone faced.

"Wait," T-134 blurted. "You have a _daughter?_ "

I didn't answer.

"Both my mommies died," Caitlyn said. _"She adopted me."_

A cruel look crossed the leader's face.

She pointed the gun at my friend.

Caitlyn stiffened, taking on a military posture. This made T-134 hesitate.

"Private Green Goose! Front and center!"

Green Goose?

I furrowed my brow. Did the Board recycle codenames of the dead, or was this just a coincidence?

If they _did_ recycle codenames, how did T-134 acquire the information?

The answers weren't coming.

"Ma'am yes Purple Rat ma'am!" Caitlyn shouted, rushing into position with a salute.

Purple Rat? Why did she get the title Purple Rat while everyone else is a goose? I wondered. A higher level of some ranking system?

"Take your place among the captives, on your knees."

"Ma'am yes ma'am!"

And then we had an extra hostage.

Mrs. Lovelace still clutched her bullet wound. Despite the blood loss, she appeared to be fully conscious. In fact, her expressions of pain seemed to have _curious timing_ , gaining intensity when I looked at her, entering a de-crescendo when I ceased to pay attention.

It wasn't uncommon for people to revel in their medical problems, exaggerating them for dramatic effect to garner sympathy, so I couldn't say for certain how much of this was an act.

"Take that woman out of here," said the `Purple Rat'. "And sew her up before she bleeds to death."

A _kid_. _Sewing up gunshot wounds_. It stretched credibility.

But then again, this little army did everything else like the grown ups, and no one said the woman would _live_ when they got done with her. At any rate, _she was getting some sort of help_.

T-134 pointed the gun at Josh. "Take off your clothes."

"Oh gross," Eleven groaned. "Didn't you get enough of that on the Ariel?"

"I've shot and killed five of your kind. You want to make that six?"

Eleven raised his hands in surrender.

"Second strike. Keep talking. See who I shoot next."

Josh disrobed for her, but as he stood in his elastic briefs, he muttered, "Is this how you picked up your last boyfriend?"

"I'm willing to let that pass if you take off your underwear."

He and Kamara exchanged uncomfortable looks.

I shook my head and looked away.

"You too, girl," I heard the Purple Rat saying to Kamara.

After a pause, in which I guessed she appraised the two, I heard her speaking to _me_. "Why are you looking away? It's not like you haven't seen this kind of thing before. I heard you had _lots_ of fun with _Mazda Miyata!_ "

My eyes widened in shock. How did she even know about that boy?

I glanced over at Kamara, who stood with her hands over her privates. She was mouthing the word no.

Right, I thought. She's just trying to get me upset.

Purple Rat grabbed me by the hair, forcing me to look at her.

"I've met others of your kind. You're the only one that acts like a self righteous bitch. Can you explain that one to me?"

I refused to answer.

"You're right," she sighed. "I'm sure whatever you say would only piss me off."

Caitlyn screamed as a bullet hit her chest. Blood darkened her uniform.

She gave me a pleading look as she covered the wound with her hand.

"Green Goose understands the risks associated with belonging to this company, don't you, private?"

Caitlyn nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks.

One of her soldiers muttered something about Caitlyn's wounds, and she got taken away.

I gave Purple Rat a look of disgust.

She frowned and turned to face my naked friends. "You both nauseate me. Put your clothes back on."

They did.

"All right. Fun and games are over. _It's time for you to go to work._ "

I questioned her with my eyes, but wasn't puzzled for very long.

She hadn't been joking. The first thing she did was send us into the kitchen of the Chinese restaurant to peel potatoes.

It seemed they had a supply line, and I'd been assigned the duty of skinning them.

The buildings _had_ to be prefabricated. We had clearly marched somewhere else, but the design of all the structures up to this point looked identical to the ghost town we just left, even on the inside.

The restaurant had the same exact layout as the other, the kitchen the same one my parents said goodbye to me in, down to the secret tunnel, though a tunnel sealed up with concrete.

It was just me and Eleven. The others had other duties in camp.

They had us under armed guard, and the knives weren't sharp enough to use as weapons, so we just worked.

Eleven, noting that Purple Rat had departed out of boredom, engaged me in conversation. "You know when Pint Size asked you if I were your boyfriend...Were you telling the truth, or were you just saying that to save my life?"

I dropped a rind into a composting bucket. "A little of both. Neither. I don't know."

"You're not sure if you consider me a boyfriend."

"You're _not_ a boyfriend. You're a...guy that's a friend. A _good friend_. You know, you're not the only man out there. I don't know if you're the right one. I really haven't had a chance to date."

 _"So you want to play the field_ ," he said in a disappointed tone.

"And what's wrong with that? I've been born and raised in a _prison_. Just once I'd like to go out and date someone like a normal girl. _Maybe someone from the Homeschoolers._ _If I could only get out of here..._ "

Of course, judging by how Ernie made babies, I wasn't sure how those relationships would play out. Still, I wanted to try.

"They'd never let you go there. You'd stick out like a sore thumb and they'd take you back."

I sighed. _"And how do you know that?"_

He shrugged. "For one thing, dollars for donuts, I bet they've put another tracking chip in your body."

"I can find a way to remove it. Like the last one."

"Maybe. If it's not stuck to something vital like your brain stem."

I stared. "Is that where it is?"

"More peeling! Less talking!" a kid with a gun shouted.

Eleven peeled another potato. "I just threw that out there. I don't know for a fact that's where they put the tracker, or if you even have one. If I knew, I'd tell you. I'm nice like that."

I smiled a little, skinned a spud.

"So, did you think of a name for me yet?"

"Moses," I said. "Because you helped free the slaves."

"Wow. That's...I'm not sure I deserve a name like that."

I had to admit it was like putting a size 6 foot inside a size 14 boot..

Metaphorically, I mean. In terms of size, I'm sure Eleven's boots were much bigger than Moses's sandals.

"How about Moe? It's short for Moses."

He smirked. "You mean like The Three Stooges."

I shrugged. "Nobody knows who the Three Stooges are these days, and if they make fun of you, you can just clobber them."

He chuckled, scraped a load of potato rinds into the bucket. "Fair enough."

"And you could write it out like Missouri if you want. MO."

 _"`The Show Me State...'_ "

He lost himself in his work, making me wonder if I'd come up with a bad idea. "It's stupid."

"No, I think it's growing on me. If you'd called me _Curly_ , now _that_ would have been lazy." He rubbed the top of his bald head. "It's kinda like Frank Beard in ZZ Top being the only guy that doesn't have a beard. It adds mystery."

When we finished the potatoes, they made us wash the dishes and scrub the latrines. I didn't expect to be fed, or even ask. I just did what I was told.

On the whole, it wasn't the worst thing I could have been forced to do at gunpoint. Like the bible verses, Ernie's longing to engage in humble Christian servant work had saturated my mind.

I caught glimpses of friends as I went about these tasks. Each had been put in uniform and given standard military haircuts so they looked like everyone else.

Dewan and Gabby already had short cuts from Musical Electric Chairs, but Lovelace got hers trimmed pretty short, and some fatigues that fit her measurements. The only one exempt from this appeared to be Willie, perhaps because he somehow intimidated them, or actually happened to be the Ghost of Christmas Past.

As I was scrubbing the last commode in the ladies' room, I heard someone tapping `shave and a haircut'. The rapping had a metallic ring, so my attention turned to an exhaust vent near the floor.

A grayish white head with a fishhook birthmark appeared behind the register. I started in surprise.

"Lacethanny!" I hissed. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to get your permission to kill your captors."

"No, no. Don't. How did you even get out?"

"That vault had an air conditioner vent. I melted it."

I glanced over my shoulder. Since Eleven (Or Moe) was in the men's, I only had a couple armed kids standing guard at the door, nobody inside with me. They knew I wouldn't try anything or risk hurting the hostages, and there had to be more of them around the perimeter, in case I tried to climb out the window. "Have you found anything interesting?"

She bobbed her head up and down. "I scented the young female that smells of Pillow and David, the one with eyes on the sides of her head."

"Sharad! Where is she?"

"I do not know her present location, but I know where she _was_. I found traces around the military training courses, the cafeteria and the education building."

I paused in thought. "But nothing fresh."

"No. I wish to investigate further, but the most recent trail is out in the open. I'm not sure I can follow it without being seen."

"All right. Be careful. Maybe you can find a good hiding spot after dark or something."

She put a claw on the register. "What about you?"

"Don't worry about me. Listen to me carefully. I want you to lay low and keep tabs on everyone I came in with."

"Tabs..." the Ss'sik'chtokiwij muttered. "That is a confusing word. It is associated with beverages."

"Just watch them, okay?"

She nodded.

I frowned. "Especially check on Kamara and Mrs. Lovelace, and tell me if Caitlyn is still alive. I'd ask you to investigate T-134, you know, Purple Rat, but she's heavily guarded."

"I'll watch her from a distance...Why do you mistrust your close hunting friend?"

"Kamara, you mean? She's doing things that are suspicious. I want to know what she's not telling me."

"And the woman?"

"I just want to find out if she's as injured as she acts."

Lacethanny nodded, disappearing into the dark.

"Are you done in there?" a child called from the door.

"Yeah," I said.

"Good! Purple Rat has another job for you."

The next thing I knew, I and my human companions got marched out of the compound, back the way we came.

Nobody mentioned the Ss'sik'chtokiwij being missing. I guess they thought Lacethanny and Julia were still trapped inside the vault.

Caitlyn, Mrs. Lovelace and Willie joined our little procession from the rear, walking slower than the rest, but keeping up well enough. It seemed the medical treatment of the former two had been somewhat successful. I figured they had a medical machine or something.

Charon followed the two with a pistol, ensuring that neither one `tripped accidentally' and sneaked away into the woods.

Again, no talking, so we got no explanation for this hike. We marched through the same dry streambed, around the same hills, arriving outside David's little nest.

Instead of stopping there, we turned, cutting through weeds, wildflowers and vines of North American derivation, arriving at the wall I'd climbed over.

We stopped. Stared at the wall.

"Ma'am Purple Rat ma'am!" Caitlyn cried, assuming a stiff military posture.

When T-134 turned to face her, Caitlyn saluted. "Request permission to speak!"

Purple Rat nodded. "Granted, Private Green Goose."

"Awaiting your orders, ma'am!"

Purple Rat locked her gaze on me. "See that, Black Goose? _That_ is how you address a superior!"

She marched over to Lovelace. "Map, please."

Lovelace handed her the diagram of the mine field.

"Green Goose, your companions have abandoned their mission objective. See to it that it doesn't happen again."

"Ma'am yes ma'am!"

The children coerced us to put sacks over our heads so we couldn't see where we were being marched or what was being punched in to make a very loud machine open the gate that they pushed us through.

"Anything that crosses that wall without the signal will be shot on sight."

I heard footsteps, shouts to stay where we were.

The gate came grinding shut behind us with an ominous clank.

Our hoods got removed by Charon. For some reason, she had decided to remain with us, while Purple Rat had not.

"Well," Moe muttered. "I guess we're overdue on a visit to the library."

Charon handed me the map.

I said, "You could help me, you know. It's not like you're immune to antipersonnel mines or anything."

 _"That's why you're going first_. Once I see the exploded bloody remains of you and your friends, I'll know where not to step."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," I groaned.

"I _just knew,_ with the proper motivation, we could get you to cooperate."

I gave Kamara a suspicious glance, but she only responded with a look that indignantly said, `What.'

Caitlyn frowned at her likeness in Gabby's hands. "Must you keep that? That thing gives me the creeps!"

I thought about it for a minute. "It's a radio."

"Yeah, so they can threaten you!"

I didn't disagree. She had a point.

She snatched the doll away from the girl, raising it like a shot put as she faced the mine field.

"Wouldn't that be bad luck?" Willie asked. _"I assume you've seen movies about Voodoo dolls._ "

"My luck can't get any worse." She threw the doll.

The doll sailed through the air a few feet, landing on an open section of soil, unharmed.

"Now _that_ I'd call a good omen," Charon said with a smile.

I knelt in front of my adopted `daughter.' "How's your wound? Is it healing?"

She gave me a grim nod. "They sewed it up pretty good. I probably shouldn't be doing too much work or exercise, though."

"Well-" I said, but I couldn't complete the thought.

All of a sudden, Dewan screamed, frantically dancing and flailing his arms so much that I thought he'd trigger a mine. "Jesus! What the fuck is that!"

"Cool it!" I scolded. "Remember the explosives!"

"There's _things_ on my arms and legs! My God! What the hell are they! They won't get off me!"

I grabbed his arm, and he pointed to it.

"There! Do you see it?"

It was a bug, but a strange looking one. Transparent abdomen, soft bodied, eyes like a human being.

I picked it off him, flicking it into the dirt. I helped him with the other ones, too.

"This is hell, isn't it?" he asked. "I'm dead, and this is where I spend eternity."

"I don't know. thought people in hell couldn't die because they're already dead."

Dewan shuddered. "Those bugs have people eyes."

Although the map didn't show where the buildings were, I could make educated guesses about the borders, and a few tossed rocks (I used my body as a shield to protect the kids from debris) I figured out my position and pacing.

As I crept ahead, I even found I could detect the aforementioned man and machine smells I thought only Lacethanny could sense.

We had only one close call, when Dewan got careless and threw a rock. Lucky for us, it only resulted in Caitlyn getting dirt in her eyes. Traumatic for a child, but by no means serious. We did the trick of pulling her lower eyelid over her upper to make it water, and she was fine.

We reached the front doors of the library without a single fatality.

"I don't know whether to be pleased or disappointed," Charon said. "But _bravo_."

The library had the same exact floor plan as the other one with the _Story of You_ book. High ceiling, an upper landing and a children's wing with bay windows.

No people visible anywhere.

This children's wing also had a town model, one with scores of tiny light up antipersonnel mines all over the central square. With a flip of a switch, I was able to shut off all the LED's, which, I assumed, indicated that the real mines had been deactivated.

Dewan kept flipping the lights off and on until I scolded him to stop.

Unlike the other library, the books in this place had content. I actually found _files_ , arranged more or less by topic.

Mrs. Lovelace crept into the corner, eyes darting back and forth, watching our every move.

As I reached for a book in a section entitled `Genetic Research', a framed diagram on an adjacent wall caught my eye.

It mapped the puzzle of the plates and hotel rooms, matching the person to an ID number and a one line description:

Agnes (Green Dragon) - Sign of Scorpio -0-986207 - Host

Amy - Cat - 3-8356032 - Old maid

Anthony - Biohazard -2-5014559 - Obsessive Compulsive Disorder

David -Nest -4-7877138 - Egg laying fantasies

Ellen -Ernie -6-8575721 - Image of psychological importance

Golic- Xenomorph Larva- 4-2413472 - Personal object of worship

Josh - Gun - 5-3520782 - Criminal offenses

Lacy (Green Goose) - Scooby Doo -5-9290706 - Gender issues

Lawrence (Black Lamb) - Caduceus - 1-1501311 - Medical

Jeff - Ring - 3-8771032 - Divorce

Kamara (Redacted)- Tiger- 5-4310528 - Favorite school

Morse - Chi Rho - 4-4431050 - Symbol associated with Fiorina 161

Sarah - Pacifier - 4-7822187 - Pregnancy

Shelly - Cross - 3-6944936 - Homeschooler

Criminal offenses? I silently mouthed.

Kamara's rank... _redacted?_

There was another Green Goose?

What does the number and dash prefix signify?

Where does a Black Lamb fit on this totem pole?

Mrs. Lovelace, who had been reading over my shoulder, quickly retreated to her corner.

I grabbed Josh, leading him to the diagram. "What's this about a criminal record?"

The color drained from his face. He didn't speak.

"Why the gun? What did you do?"

He swallowed hard. "I'm not supposed to tell you about my life before. I could...lose my family."

"Josh, I won't tell anyone. I'm not going to get you into trouble."

"It doesn't matter." He pointed to a camera bubble on the ceiling. " _They'll know._ "

I sighed. "Before I...went through my change, I thought we _had something._ "

He blushed. "You're asking me to choose between you and my family."

I gazed at him pleadingly, arms akimbo. "Can't you tell me _anything?_ "

His skin lost its color again. "All I can tell you is that I'm adopted."

I stared. "Did you...shoot them?...Your original parents?"

He ran away from me. I saw tears.

 _"There goes his family,"_ Dewan muttered.

Kamara followed Josh to a section of the library containing the vacant checkout desk, periodicals, reference materials and microfiche machines. I thought about joining them, but wasn't sure I'd be welcome.

I felt terrible, but there was nothing I could do. If he was right, I'd already ruined his family.

Of course, I guess he ruined his own family long before he met me.

On the opposite side of the room, I found shelf after shelf of black books with serial numbers on their spines. I pulled a few of them out, skimming through the pages.

Copies of birth certificates, social security numbers, dates of birth, self driving car `rental paperwork' and other civic forms, school and employment history, carefully selected social media posts, news articles, catalog numbers for the archived video postings, family and friend connections, genetic profile information, and other personal details.

Gabby picked up the books, staring at the pages and mouthing the words.

Kamara yanked one of them out of her hands, shoving it back on the shelf.

Mrs. Lovelace's eyes narrowed as she observed our movements, like the owner of the proverbial needle waiting to see what searchers would find in the haystack.

Oddly enough, Charon didn't seem to be interested in the books at all. She only glanced through the threshold to see what we were doing, then sat down at a study table, smoking and casually thumbing through a book with a green cover.

Caitlyn stayed by my side, peering at whatever I read, just like a daughter. I smiled a little, and would pause to explain things whenever she pointed and asked.

One of the books, randomly selected, happened to be about an Ariel prisoner named Yuffie Jacobs.

Single parent. The father bailed when the mother was pregnant. When Yuffie turned eight, the mother's credit score tanked, causing the state to take Yuffie away.

Yuffie fled from Child Services, living in the streets. She became a cyber pickpocket, stealing thousands of dollars through careful siphoning. A dollar here, a dollar there, mostly from religious people and other weak prey, never more than one percent, never the same person twice...

Well, almost never. She reprogrammed a self driving car to run the man over when he found out.

She paid all her bills with that illegitimate income. Her one mistake? Sharing a bootleg of _Cinderella_ she took off a VHS tape someone recorded off the TV in the eighties. That, and a fuzzy cassette tape-to-digital copy of the Beatles' _Good Day Sunshine_ , `pirated' from a radio station broadcast.

She repaid the company a few thousand by doing sexual favors, but wouldn't have gotten out of the kennels without me. Not after the company mandated sex change operation.

I saw hundreds of others on the shelves just like her. It did me no good to read them all, for they were all depressing and I had no idea where these people were now.

"Is one of those books about me?" Gabby asked.

"I don't know," I began, but Dewan replied, "You are. _I guarantee_ that you are. There's more than a thousand books in here. The real question is, what's your serial number?"

Sensing motion, I turned around in time to see Willie stepping behind the model, clenching the spine of a book with a death grip.

I took the diagram off the wall, comparing it to the serial numbers. After a few minutes of searching, I found Lawrence's dossier, giving it a thorough read.

Past the pages of impressive certifications, I found a collection of internal memos.

According to the documents that weren't redacted, the man had cheated on his college exams, but someone had let it slide. There were accusatory memos about bribery. He met his future wife at the school.

He graduated, working as an intern at an abortion clinic. He used the confidential information from one of his clients to blackmail himself into a job at a place called Allied Fertility.

The man's employment came up for review eight times, due to unsanctioned experiments on donor materials prior to fertilization, removing samples from the laboratory, tempering with records and destroying `premium genetic stock.'

Suspiciously timed events followed each of these reviews, public scandal, resignations, sudden unexplained transfers of money, seemingly healthy individuals dying from heart attacks, cancer, strokes, pneumonia or AIDS just days after forwarding a memo.

Included were photographs the police had taken of a medical bag matching the one I'd seen in Lawrence's hotel room. The leather had been tested for traces of poisons, but none could be found. It seemed Forensics could not piece together the compounds he'd used, or prove that a murder had taken place.

I also found his manifesto, a long rambling tract that sounded like Eugenics, describing how a race of human beings could be engineered to dominate the rest of humankind and eliminate the weak. Judging by what I'd already seen in the world, not the only one who had this idea...but the man went off the deep end when he broached the subject of bestowing these "super evolved" people with psychic abilities and god-like powers.

Another string of resignations, and he got promoted to department head.

Six months later, for unexplained reasons, Lawrence stepped down, appearing to drop off the face of the planet for a year.

A sudden boom jolted me from my reading. Willie had opened the casement and hurled a book on one of the mines.

"What," he said when he caught me staring.

I shook my head, returned to my reading.

In June, Lawrence reappeared in Hollywood, Utah, working his way through the ranks of Disney Pediatrics, which he chaired for five years before transferring to Phyxo and DHAMBALLAH.

The rest of his record got viciously attacked by a black marker. The only thing I could glean was that he assisted Xavier on the Sil project, and worked on something called CAMEP. A memo mentioned that the biological research division would no longer require his services. That was the last thing I could decipher.

His social media entries were nearly nonexistent, save for a couple strange items like a post saying farewell to a head nurse at Disney a week before the nurse submitted her resignation to HR.

I put the book back, feeling like the content had sullied my hands.

"Good book?" Moe asked me as he thumbed through another.

"No."

I thought about reading Josh and Kamara's books, but I decided it would be like reading their diaries. Instead I read the one about Lacey.

She had a brother. The father raised the two of them for awhile after the mother went missing, but eventually gave them to the government when the apartment managers raised the rates to a point he couldn't afford.

Lacey belonged to YME for awhile, but then she kept trespassing into restricted areas on their property, and DAMBALLAH took her. The brother, I guess, remained outside, with YME.

Her social media posts and other stuff looked rather normal looking, though I couldn't agree with her viewpoints.

Then came the Facebook postings I'd viewed whenever I got on the computer, before I knew it wasn't 2018 and they were faking the whole internet. That, and the other social media stuff, was so thick that they had truncated it due to length, telling me to check the archives for the rest of the material.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I searched for Kamara's book.

I couldn't find it. The shelf containing the numbers in that sequence had a tell-tale gap, like a missing tooth, and that's when I remembered seeing her holding one hand to her chest, as if she had hidden something in her top.

I pulled out Josh's book, cracked the cover, then, overcome with guilt, closed it again, sliding it back in the shelf.

My own book was filled with blank paper.

I went on to the next item that puzzled me, Amy Mcallister's presence in Learning Town.

The reasons turned out to be tenuous. She had gotten into a fight with the girlfriend of someone in the project, giving her a black eye.

Mistaking Jeff's boss for a secret lover, she sent a threatening, poorly worded e-mail which the manager took seriously enough to review Jeff's employment and get the police involved. The mistake got forgiven, but not purged from the record.

Then came the incident that may have forced her into imprisonment: Opening a package intended for a DAMBALLAH company executive.

Mrs. Lovelace still watched me and the others with mistrustful eyes, from time to time flipping open a book, glancing at a page, putting it back.

In the interim, Willie had slipped off to play with one of the catalog computers. He switched the screen to a news article about a battle in the middle east when I caught him searching for something.

 _"Another feud on the Gaza Strip!_ " he said in a mocking, scornful tone. "How many times will these clowns fight over the same worthless patch of sand? I'll bet there isn't a drop of oil they haven't either extracted or set on fire already!"

Caitlyn, who had followed me, just gave the man a blank stare. I guess she wasn't up on current events, or history, whatever it happened to actually be.

"It has religious significance," I explained.

Willie blew a raspberry. "Tell me, sweetie. What religion are _you_?"

"Christian," I said.

"Who do you think the middle east belongs to? The Jews or the Arabs?"

"The middle east is a big area."

"Jerusalem, then. Who does it belong to?"

"The Jews."

"Are _you_ a Jew?"

"Uh...I don't know. I was born in a lab."

"Your honesty is refreshing," the man said with a smirk. " _As a clone_ , then. _As a_ _Christian_ , would it matter to you _personally_ if the Arabs conquered Jerusalem?"

I thought about it for a moment. " _It's the Holy Land._ "

 _"`My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jews. But now my kingdom is from another place.'"_ He shut off the computer. "Just some food for thought."

He stood up, strolling into the children's wing with a whistle of _Pack Up Your Worries In An Old Kit Bag_.

The man had successfully distracted me from the subject of his real research. I hadn't noticed the serial numbers he'd written down until he'd stuffed the index cards into his pocket. And now he was doing research.

Charon smoked behind the desk, sneakers kicked up on its polished surface as she alternated between watching us and reading the green book.

Josh sat on the floor in an aisle between bookshelves, staring despondently at a book that was probably nothing more than blank paper with a cover.

As Kamara walked away from him, stepping around the check-in desk, Gabby ran into her.

The two grappled for a second, then I saw Kamara putting her in a choke hold, squeezing the air out of her until she passed out. A dossier dropped out of Gabby's hands with a loud thump.

"Serves you right for trying to pick my pockets!" Kamara growled, snatching the book back.

Willie marched up to her. _"Oh, did she try to steal your book?"_

Gabby groaned, staggering back to her feet.

Kamara glared. "Stay out of this."

Willie rubbed Gabby on the head, offering her a different book. "You might find this one to your liking. _Consider it a prequel to the other one._ "

Kamara pulled out something that looked like the handle of a broken hunting knife.

With a click of a button, a glowing blade emerged, crackling in the air.

She closed the gap between herself and the man. " _Give the book to me._ "

Willie remained calm and smiling. "That's an _interesting toy_ you've got there. Did your _mommy_ or your _daddy_ give that to you?"

"Give me that book!"

 _"Say pretty please."_

Kamara advanced with a slash of her glowing blade.

Willie cracked open the book. "Come any closer, and I'll start reading passages."

As I watched this exchange, I noticed Dewan pushing a book into my hand. Kamara had forgotten it in her struggle to get the other one.

I stared at the cover, debating whether or not to open it.

Kamara had always been my friend, but she had kept secrets. _Lots of them_.

I opened it from the back, taking just a peek.

It was enough.

I was not the first Ellie to be Kamara's `friend.'

It only _seemed_ like I'd known her forever. My memories had been partially _faked_.

I'd been released from a tank immediately after Ellie Delta had been killed in the mine field outside the old house.

Ellie Alpha had been killed during the burglary, a staged burglary to test me, or rather, _her._

Ellie Bravo stowed away in dad, er, George's trunk. They caught her, and she wound up in Learning Town. Cause of death? Trying to escape down that road with hidden self firing machine guns.

They found Ellie Charlie sneaking around in one of the fake houses. She got killed by that giant squid thing in the well.

"So," I heard Josh saying. " _Since you lost your parents, you've decided that no one else can have them either._ "

I closed the book. "If your friendship is built on lies, are we really friends?"

All of a sudden, I hear Willie shrieking. I watched with horror as he dropped to the floor, apparently due to Kamara slashing his leg open.

The wound cauterized at once, but it didn't reduce his pain. "Why you little bitch!"

Dewan, Caitlyn and Gabby watched the attack like rubberneckers at a traffic accident. I doubted they understood enough to take sides.

Charon sat up in her chair, puffing away as she observed the exchange, like a gambler at a prize fight.

In one swift motion, she knelt on the man's chest, laser blade poised at the man's throat. "I've used these to sever people's heads from their bodies. Cut the head of an Israeli ambassador clean off. That, and his two idiot bodyguards. Yours will be just another head for my collection."

 _"I believe you,"_ Willie said with a sly smile. "I've always been a big fan of _dramatic readings._ "

Kamara looked like she'd just been slapped.

She slowly turned her head, staring at me with alarm. Her face turned the color of coffee with too much creamer.

Kamara rammed the glowing blade through Willie's shoulder up to the hilt, eliciting another agonized scream.

She snatched the book away from him, returning her attention to me.

During the fight, Josh had taken the book from me with a little sleight of hand. He now brought it to his girlfriend with an apologetic expression on his face. "It's too late. _She already looked._ "

I heard the beep of a computer starting up. Lovelace was doing a search for something. I supposed it wouldn't hurt anything.

"So I glanced at your stupid book," I said to my friend (yes, I still considered her that). "Why would anyone punish you for that?"

Kamara fixed me with a cold glare. _"What did you read?"_

"Nothing that changes our friendship."

"I'll be the judge of that!" she shouted, brandishing her blade close enough that I could feel the heat through my costume. "What did you read!"

Moe stomped up to the girl, cracking his knuckles threateningly. "Come any closer to her with that weapon and I'll make sure you never use that hand again."

She turned the blade on Moe. "How are you going to break my hand when I've sliced both of yours off?"

"Bring it, runt."

"Please," I said. "No fighting. If she wants to cut me, if that will bring us peace, I can take it."

Kamara sighed, deactivating her weapon. She still held it at the ready, though, probably because of Willie. "What did you read?"

I shrugged. "I'm not the first Ellie you've been friends with. All the other ones died. And maybe we don't know each other as long as I originally thought. That's it."

 _"`That's it,'_ " she echoed, sounding as if that, in and of itself, were too much.

"I already know I'm a clone. You lied, but I believe in forgiving people. We can still be friends."

Her features hardened in anger. "Actually, _I don't know if we can._ "

"You're better off without friends like that, young lady," Willie groaned from the floor. "That one's liable to skewer you the moment your back is turned, without the slightest justification. Take that book for example. _It wasn't even about her parents_ , and yet she _stabbed_ me over it! _For a miserable bluff!"_

"Like I'm going to believe a word you say," Kamara muttered, opening the cover.

She took one glance, threw it down in disgust.

Willie made the `Told you so' gesture with his hands.

My brow furrowed as I met Kamara's glare. "If you can kill a foreign diplomat and his guards, why did you let those thugs at Disney put you in that squalid cage? Why not just kill them?"

"Yes," Willie said. "And why did you target an Israeli when we lost the entire east coast to Al Buraq?"

"I cooperated with the `thugs' because our objective was capturing Sil. Mas rescue was never part of our plan. We were to extract the hybrids and the aliens and go. The decapitations would come if and when anyone truly stood in our way."

"They held you hostage," I said.

 _"I knew what I was doing._ "

"You'd die for your cause?"

 _"If necessary."_

We fell into an awkward silence.

"You didn't answer my question," Willie said.

Kamara clenched her fists. "Then answer mine. How did you know it happened in North America?"

 _"I read the news._ Now explain the ambassador."

Before she could answer, I heard a Jeff Goldblum-like voice squawking, "Ellen Ripley! Ellen Ripley!"

A holographic chicken perched itself on my shoulder.

I gawked. "Mr. Clucky?"

The phantom gave me a polite bow. _"At your service._ "

"What are _you_ doing here?"

"Ellen Ripley, you have ten new messages in Afexun. I highly recommend accessing your account using the complementary goggles located near the hotspot."

Mr. Clucky led me to a pair of Google glasses on a table between two microfiche machines.

I stared at the glasses like they were a dead thing. So much trouble had happened to me on account of them. I hesitated to even touch them.

The moment my fingers brushed the lenses, I saw lights flashing on my arm.

Someone had given me implants while I had been unconscious.

This meant I was, even now, being tracked. And assigned a point value.

I had never had an Afexun experience before. This was all new to me.

What was this? Social media? Full expression of myself to the world? I somehow doubted it.

I picked up the glasses, put them on my head.

The networking virtual world? Not what I expected.

With the aid of the glasses, I could see the phantom shapes encircling me: Robed figures with their faces obscured by shadowy cowls. Holograms created by the glasses.

As my eyes traveled from hood to hood, an associated codename appeared above them, each with the dubious status listing `friend.' I also saw symbols, indicating that each codename had something to do with the Chinese Zodiac:

Red Lamb, a tall older man with large front teeth and a mole on one side of his jowled pudgy face.

Purple Dog, squirrel-like visage that appeared to be more cyberspace than reality.

Gold Snake, plague doctor mask.

Red Boar - the classic _V for Vendetta_ terrorist mask.

The faces of the others, (geese and color coded Zodiac animals) I couldn't see beneath the shadows of their cowls.

I stared in puzzlement at this group, this... _coven_ of strange characters. "I'm afraid you've all made a mistake. I don't recognize you as any sort of friend."

"That's where you're wrong," said the plague doctor. " _We've been your friends for a very, very long time._ "

A short stocky `friend' (identified as White Monkey) stepped forward, pulling back its hood with a pair of plump hands.

The face was round and full, sumo-like in its hair, thickness of face, and stern expression.

"Jen-Jen?"

She waved her hand, and the others vanished. " _We need to have a little talk._ "


	44. Chapter 44: Hypnotic Regression

I wasn't interested in what Jen-Jen wanted, or why she wanted to talk. I had my own questions, my own agenda, and I would get answers, or she wouldn't get anything.

"You want to talk?" I said. "Let's talk. Where is Ernie's grandmother?"

"The same place she's always been," she answered. " _You've been there_ , remember?"

She opened her mouth to ask a question, but I made it a point to cut her off before she had a chance to do anything but answer me. "I climbed a wall. I didn't see a hospital anywhere."

"That's because you're in the White Zone."

"And where is the hospital?"

The woman scowled. "I'm not going to tell you that."

She tried to speak, but I kept my questions rapid fire. "How is Pillow? Is she all right?"

 _"Pillow is fine,"_ Jen-Jen sighed. "She's with her children."

"Dead?"

"God no. You're so morbid."

"And Sil's babies?"

"Matthew, Mark and Luke? They're good! We have them locked up in a secure place so they don't get into trouble. Containment's three times as secure as the one they made for Sil."

The thought of death brought up other topics. "What about Thonwa? Did someone figure out how to fix her up, or is she still in cold storage?"

She gave me a gloomy look. "I'm sorry. Your friend didn't make it."

The helpless look on her face indicated that she told the truth. Judging by what I'd seen of the injuries, I didn't doubt this to be the case.

I pictured her laid out on a metal table, being dissected by people in lab coats.

If and when I found the spaceship, I'd have to leave her body with them. We couldn't risk life and limb on behalf of the dead.

"What are you going to do with me?"

"I don't know. That's really up to you, and the people in charge. Definitely something military related, but we also want the secrets locked in your brain."

I knew better than to ask what would happen if those secrets couldn't be found, or didn't exist. "Who is in charge?"

"The Red Ox and Blue Ox, and the Red Tiger that oversees them."

"Are you the Red Ox?"

"No, I am the White Monkey."

"Where are you?"

Jennifer grinned. "I am in the Purple Zone. _You should come visit me._ I'd love another opportunity to meet face to face."

"Who killed Xavier?"

She stopped smiling. "The Rook."

"Is the Rook in charge of this place?"

"No. The Rook is a rogue agent. I'd stay away from him if I were you."

"Why should I believe what you say? What if the Rook can help me out of this place?"

 _"He just killed your friend._ A person like that probably doesn't have your best interests at heart."

Yeah, I thought. I bet the only thing he did to hurt Xavier was disobey the Board. "I'll be the judge of that."

 _"Think what you want,"_ she replied in a resigned sounding tone.

"What did he do to deserve getting murdered like that?"

"Lots of reasons. His project cost the company a lot of money. _That whole Disney fiasco_."

Other than caring for the children and paying the Mexican soldiers, things of that nature, I wondered how this would cost the company money, whether they were actually _repaying_ Disney for the damages, but I put the question on the back burner. "Do you know why he might want to throw Ron into one of those...towns?"

That got me a blank look. "Who's Ron?"

"The pizza man."

"Oh." She frowned. "I don't know."

"Where's Weyland? Is he all right?"

"You still care about him after all he's done? How touching!"

I sighed impatiently.

"He's fine. In fact, he sent me to speak to you."

"What happened to Ernie?" I asked. "Where is she?"

"You know where she is."

"Did...your company give Disney money to cover all the damages? Is that why Xavier got murdered?"

"I've patiently answered all of your questions," Jenjen snapped. "Now you're going to answer some of mine. You said that you remembered things from _before_."

I swallowed. Ernie had warned me to be careful about what I divulged, and when. When bluffing, less is more. You didn't want to show all your cards at once. "I... _may remember a few things_. But it's _hazy_. It kinda _comes and goes_. And there's...a lot of stuff...I don't want to remember."

"Like what?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"It's important to your continued survival," Jen-Jen urged. "Especially if you ever want to see your friends again."

 _Continued survival._ I felt a cold chill run up my back. "Fine. You want to hear about my dead boyfriend, or about a dead little girl?"

"Tell me about LV 426."

"It was wet."

"You're going to have to give me more detail than that. Where were you when it was raining? Who were you with?"

"I was with... _Bishop, Hicks_ , and this Mexican lady named... _Vazquez_ , I think..."

I intentionally made it like pulling teeth. Piecing Ernie's experiences together into Ripley's perspective, I responded to her in one-liners, verbal `tweets' of information to shield the gaps in my knowledge.

The moment she asked about the Nostromo, I told her I had a headache and pulled the glasses off. I saw red lights flashing on my arm, but I didn't care. I was done.

I didn't believe for a minute that she'd let me "See my friends." Not in the way I wanted to see them, at least. They'd be under guard, with me at their mercy., and if she found out my secret, I'd never see them again.

All of a sudden, I hear the sound of heels clomping loudly down the metal and imitation marble staircase.

I turned my head and saw a woman in a light gray pantsuit approaching us.

Her facial features reminded me of a predatory bird, her stringy gold-orange hair swept back in a severe stub of a ponytail. Her face was freckled, but her eyes had a pale ice blue tint to them that inspired fear.

And then I remembered I had seen the woman at a parent teacher conference.

"Mom?" Josh blurted.

I gawked at the strange looking woman standing before me. "Mrs. Patterson! What are _you_ doing here?"

 _"Reading a book,"_ she said mysteriously, adding no supporting details, like, for starters, why she was hanging out upstairs.

I decided it was unimportant. "Look. Whatever secrets you think I know about you or Josh, I really don't. The information is still safe. I didn't even open his book."

"You needn't worry about that, Ms. Ripley. Josh is still family. This is merely... _summer camp_ for him. _A little vacation away from home, like his trip to the Disney park_."

Josh sighed and nodded.

Mrs. Patterson examined her son's Equality prep school uniform. "You look very handsome in that. Very grown up."

"Thanks," he muttered.

"It _does_ look nice," Kamara agreed, making him blush a little.

I stared as Kamara shoved her laser knife back in her pocket.

"Where did you get that?"

She shrugged. "It was in my room."

Looking me in the eyes, Josh's mother said, "I heard that your chat session in Afexun was _terminated prematurely_. Something about a _headache?_ "

I shivered. The woman probably had tons of ways of accessing that information, even pressing her ear to the upstairs floor, but it didn't make it any less scary.

I doubted I could trust this woman. I'd have to be cagey about this.

" _It's the stress_ ," I lied. "The memories...they're real foggy. I get a headache just thinking about it. Your brain's not designed to remember stuff before its birth."

"Actually, _yours is._ "

"That sounds like pseudoscience to me," I countered.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Willie had somehow staggered his way over to the computer terminal, speaking in quiet tones with Lovelace.

She disagreed with something he said, shaking her head no.

The man stumbled into a chair, sighing as he watched the woman go into the children's wing for another book.

 _"Pseudoscience?"_ Mrs. Patterson was saying to me. "Is it? How, then, did you just happen to know the name of an executive in our corporation?"

"Lucky guess?"

She frowned at me.

As I fumbled for another answer, she said, "Our so-called pseudoscience is not based on reincarnation, Ms. Ripley. It's based on a theory of _genetic memory_. There's a difference. A fly that survives getting swatted learns how to be faster, to avoid fly swatters. It breeds, encoding its survival skills into its progeny.

"The lifeform you've been crossbred with...it appears to pass memories on through its chromosomes. _You tapped into them somehow_. We need you to do it again."

"It's not as easy as you think it is," I said. "It doesn't help that your people keep putting me in _distracting situations like that minefield._ "

"What do you suggest?" she said in a cold tone. "We put you in a sensory deprivation chamber, but that didn't seem to work."

"So _you're_ the one who did this to me!" I cried, pointing to the melted probes in my temples.

She shrugged. "I run the White Zone. Of course, I had help..."

"If you know anything, you'd understand that I hurt myself out there, chasing down Sil. I hit my head a few times. I have _gaps in my memory._ "

 _"Well let's see what we can do with the pieces,"_ she said.

I changed the subject. "How do we send the signal?"

Mrs. Patterson blinked, looking confused. "What signal?"

"The Bat Signal. I don't know, I'm supposed to send something up or they won't let me leave this place."

"We'll have plenty of time to play war games later. Right now I want you to come with me. We're going to go through a few relaxation techniques."

I looked nervously at my companions, but they weren't going anywhere.

I wanted to throw Caitlyn over my shoulder and run like hell, but I didn't have the signal, and Dewan and Gabby would be left behind.

I couldn't hurt the woman, either, since she was Josh's mother.

I gave up the fight, following her to a reading table with a Newton's Cradle in the center.

We sat in chairs facing each other as the woman raised the pendulum, initiating the monotonous striking rhythm.

The children stood around us to watch.

Patterson spoke the kinds of things you hear on relaxation tapes, "Your body feels like lead, you can't move a muscle" and "The world around you is falling away..." That kind of thing. She could see where my eyes were going, and what I was doing, so I couldn't just look away from the pendulum or cover my ears or anything.

Like that "Sleep" trap I fell for earlier, I found myself entering a suggestive state.

Dewan and Gabby lost interest, wandering off to look around the library. Caitlyn, however, pulled up a chair beside me, continuing to listen in.

Charon pulled up a seat next to us, adding a layer of nicotine fumes to the mix.

Slowly but surely, she drew memories out of me, which I shared in calm unthinking tones.

While this took place, Caitlyn continued to lean closer and closer to me, until she fell asleep on my shoulder.

For a moment, the hypnotic spell broke, and I became more reserved in what I told the woman, but then in a stern voice she barked, "Eyes up here, Ms. Ripley," and she captured me with hypnosis again.

Without meaning to, I found myself spilling the whole memory Ernie had planted in my brain.

At first, she was overwhelmed. Both she and Charon stared at each other speechlessly.

But then Mrs. Patterson asked me, "You mentioned going into _Hydroponics_. What were you doing in there?"

"Hiding from the aliens in the underground irrigation tunnels," I said.

"And the geothermal plant?"

"We were trying to get the power switched on."

 _"I see._ " She clicked a hidden button under the table.

A moment later, Mr. Weyland joined us.

"She's lying," Mrs. Patterson said. "She's implanted memories in her brain somehow, but they're not hers."

He swore and slammed his fist down on the table.

Weyland's face had turned an almost solid red.

"Are you going to...destroy me?" I asked.

 _"I should,"_ he snarled.

The man stomped away in a huff. I saw him disappear through a security door in the back corner.

Mrs. Patterson got up suddenly. "I'm taking this to Phase Two," she said to Charon. "Your beak is in your desk."

Charon nodded, apparently understanding the code.

Josh's mother clomped off into a back office and closed the door.

"What's Phase Two?" I asked Charon.

Instead of replying, she marched up to the check-in desk, returning to her slouched position in the swivel chair.

"You seem to have healed well," I said, noting how she propped her legs up on the top.

"They said to go easy on it, but it actually feels okay. It's amazing what modern medicine can do these days."

As we talked, I suddenly noticed it growing dark.

I glanced at the windows and found gray sheets of metal descending over them like overhead doors, blocking the light.

"What's going on? Why are all those things going down?"

" _No reason_ ," Charon said. "It's just a _sun shade_. It gets awful hot around here."

She winced, using both hands to move her leg to the floor. "Dammit. Still hurts."

"Sorry," I muttered.

"Tell me. How does it feel to find out that you're only a duplicate of someone else? That your past is a lie and you're just a copy of a copy of a copy?"

"To paraphrase Mark Twain, it's better to be a live junebug than a dead bird of paradise."

"So you remember enough to know that your original is dead. How did you come by that information?"

The metal sheet hit the bottom of the window frame with a loud clank.

"The doors won't open!" Dewan shouted as he rushed up to me. "They've locked us in!"

I ran up to the front entrance to check them myself.

The glass doors had been enclosed behind a thick metal plate. I could see no way through.

Seconds later, I saw clouds of green smoke pouring out through the air registers.

Charon smiled at me, pulling her plastic beak over her face. It seemed our little chat had been a distraction.

Dewan, Gabby and Caitlyn were panicking. Josh and Kamara gave each other a nervous glance, then held hands like this were the end.

"That's cyanide, isn't it?" Dewan said. "You gotta get us away from it! Climb up the walls, get up on a book shelf or something and help us up!"

"I don't think that will help," I said. "Gases rise. Fire marshals will tell you you're better off on the floor."

Despite the advice, he ran up the stairs to the second floor landing.

Charon looked unperturbed. She sat cross legged behind the desk, calmly flipping through the green book, occasionally turning it sideways like it had a centerfold, though maybe not as interesting. A map or diagram perhaps. Whatever it was, it didn't have anything written on the outside to identify subject matter.

Willie held his sleeve to his face to protect himself against the fumes, propping himself against a table for support. "She's wearing a gas mask," he said in a muffled voice.

Mrs. Lovelace and I approached the desk to remove the beak from Charon's face, but she drew a gun from a desk drawer. "Don't even think about it." Her voice sounded silly, but so does a bank robber in a gorilla mask.

"I'm guessing Phase Two doesn't have anything to do with killing us," I said. "Or you would have done it already."

 _"We have a complicated love-hate relationship, Ms. Ripley,"_ Charon said. "I would be disappointed to find your end to be that simple."

She made "move away" gestures with her pistol. "If I were you, I'd step back before a couple stray bullets resolve the complexity by accident. _I'm afraid the trigger's a little twitchy._ "

Willie coughed, then collapsed on the floor, unconscious.

Lovelace grabbed the edge of the desk for support, but her arm went noodle and she slipped off onto the hardwood.

I ran to the door that Weyland had disappeared through, but it wouldn't open, and neither would the office door.

While I set about applying steaming saliva and blood to the door lock, my friends passed out, one by one, making the place look like a small scale version of Jonestown.

After about a minute, I actually melted through the lock, staring into the chamber beyond, a stainless steel corridor ending in a second security door with a keypad.

 _"Impressive!"_ said a beak distorted voice behind me. "I'm tempted to let you go and see how far you can get."

That's when I felt voltage coursing through my neck.

"Sorry," I heard her saying as I spasmed and blacked out. " _My other half took over._ "

I awoke in the usual place, but oh, how good it felt!

It wasn't just the soft bed, the blankets or being out of that uncomfortable costume with the cool air conditioner on my bare skin, it was the _comforting press of_ _Ss'sik'chtokiwij shells against my body_. In it I found both a calming security, and a strange non-human sexual longing I couldn't figure out how to express, or if it were even safe to express it.

In my unconscious state, _I had gotten close with them. Really close_.

I can't imagine what Julia felt about it, pressed up against my boobs with my legs wrapped around her. She probably should have gotten confused and laid an egg in my chest cavity.

Lacethanny had been drooling on my shoulder, which explained the strange burning cloth smell.

When my eyes slowly cracked open, I noticed something of equal oddness - my single hotel room had been upgraded to a double.

Caitlyn sat on the edge of the bed on the opposite side of the room, clad in her underwear, staring at me. Her chest and midsection were still wrapped in clean bandages.

She got up, gawking at the lazily shifting bodies spooning with me.

Feeling self conscious, I pulled the blankets around my chest and sat up. "This isn't what it looks like."

"Mommy," she said. "I saw you climb a wall like Spider-Man and melt a door with your spit. You can do whatever the fuck you want."

"Caitlyn," I scolded. "As your mother, I don't want to hear you cussing again, or I'll wash your mouth out with soap."

My adopted daughter grinned. "I'd like that...I mean, not the soap." She cleared her throat. "I won't cuss again."

I stared at Julia with unease. "I didn't...I mean, _we didn't do anything_...um, _sexual_ , did we?"

"Honestly, I thought you were trying to recreate my birth experience, but I cannot go back into such a small place. For the most part, you just warmed my exoskeleton and salivated on me as you snored. The only strange thing was the friction."

"Sorry," I stammered, blushing red all over.

"For what? It was not entirely unpleasant."

I got out of bed, further draping myself with the blanket.

"Why are you covering yourself up?" Caitlyn said. "My other mommies said it's a thing of beauty and it's okay to look."

"This mommy has a sense of decency."

"I've seen naked women before."

I grimaced. "I...I'm sure you haven, but there's certain things a kid your age shouldn't be seeing...regardless."

I frowned at my... _bedfellows,_ if that's the proper word to describe them. "How did you guys get in here?"

"We crawled in through the air conditioner ducts," Lacethanny said.

"Well, you need to crawl back in there, unless you want to end up locked in another bank vault, or worse."

I paused. "Did you learn anything?"

Lacethanny nodded. "Your companion and the older woman in the dress both have blood containing unusually high sugar content. I tasted the clothing."

"It is ketchup," Julia agreed.

"I'm sorry," Caitlyn said. " _I had to._ "

I rubbed her head. "It's okay. I'm glad they didn't hurt you."

Julia pointed to a chair, where my old child sized leather jacket hung. "I found this in their barracks. It had your scent on it, so I thought you'd like to have it."

Since the jacket wouldn't even work as a midriff top, I handed it to Caitlyn. "Here. Maybe you can wear this."

She slipped it on, reaching into the pockets.

"What's this?" she said, showing me a set of keys.

My eyes widened. "Hold on to that. It could be useful."

"I followed your hunting friend Kamara," Lacethanny said. "She spent a lot of time speaking to nobody with glasses on."

Networking with other people on the island, I thought. "Did you hear what she said?"

"Only that Sharad is running loose on the island, and she's going to kill her."


	45. Chapter 45: Homeschoolers

"Why would she kill Sharad?" I asked. "What did she do to her?"

Lacethanny shrugged. "She did not cooperate, and would not allow herself to be a hostage. I think they fear that you will not obey them if you knew."

"I have other friends besides Sharad," I said. "This makes no sense."

"I don't understand either, but they say she is a troublemaker."

"Anything on the Purple Rat?"

"We could not get close," Julie said. "She is overly cautious. Their military maneuvers are very repetitive. They are doing _patrols. Of the woods_. To capture Sharad, perhaps. They dig trenches with wooden spike barriers like in the Civil War. It is an expansion strategy...How does all of this protect America?"

I raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think it does?"

"The humans that instructed me in the ways of battle."

The thought of them indoctrinating a Ss'sik'chtokiwij gave me the chills. "I don't think this helps America at all."

"Even to destroy the fanatical religious repression of Al Buraq?"

"I don't know what they told you," I said. "But there's just as much repression being done by other Americans. We aren't free to share our faith anymore."

Julia let out a low growl, but I wasn't sure what she was thinking.

I had been very distracted those last few minutes before falling unconscious, but now, as I struggled with my confused romantic and sexual feelings (the human ones had obviously taken a back seat) I started wondering where Moe had been while Charon was pointing that gun at me.

I asked Caitlyn.

"He was standing right next to a vent," she said. "He was the first one to conk out. I saw him reading a book on how to write love poems, and then he was on the floor."

"Love poems?" I said. "Really?"

"I couldn't tell he didn't want anyone to see him reading it. That's why he stood next to the vent. Of course, he didn't know there would be gas coming out."

I chuckled a little.

"Are you going to make him the daddy?"

Turning red, I muttered, "I don't know. We're not exactly _that close_..." It wasn't exactly a no.

"You think you can trust him?"

" _Maybe._ I...I don't really know. _He cut off Pillow's tail..._ "

For a moment, she didn't seem to understand. I forgot that they never formally met in person. "You mean the lady on the computer?"

"Yeah," I muttered. "She's an alien, and she had a tail."

"Did he say he's sorry?"

"Not...exactly. He just said he didn't have a choice."

"You should ask him if he's sorry. I think he might make a good daddy."

I could only stare.

I returned my attention to my alien companions. "Any sign of Ernie or Grandmother or other Ss'sik'chtokiwij?"

Julia shook her head. "This place only smells of humans and chemicals. Some earth animal scents."

"On a related note," said Lacethanny. "You have been relocated."

"I know," I said. "They put me in the hotel again."

She growled, rubbing her face in frustration. "It is not the same hotel."

 _"Human trickery,"_ I groaned.

Caitlyn stared at me in shock. "Your _grandma_ lives here?"

I rolled my eyes. "It's _Ernie's grandmother_."

"Correct," Julia added. "Since you're my _great aunt_ , that technically makes you her _daughter._ "

"It does?" I stammered. "Wait, what makes you think I'm her daughter?"

"Shasharmazorb has a very distinct scent. I'd recognize it anywhere, even if her offspring is produced by artificial means. We were in such close proximity that I couldn't help but notice."

Overcome with emotion, I sat down on the bed and started crying. I kept thinking about how she asked me to help her read.

Caitlyn sat down on the bed, putting an arm around me. "What's wrong, mommy? Are you sad?"

I sniffed. "I don't know."

I dried my eyes, drawing the blanket closer around my body for modesty. "Mommy's going to take a shower."

I gave my alien friends a shooing wave. "You should go. Hide. I don't want you getting captured."

Julia nodded, scuttling into the air conditioner duct, Lacethanny following close behind.

After showering, I found my costume in the closet. Someone had patched it up, but I could still see the outline of the spot where my blood had melted the material. Another outfit, a child sized pair of desert camo fatigues dangled from a hanger behind it, cleaned and pressed. I didn't need to read the name patch to know it had been intended for Caitlyn.

Once we'd been more or less properly dressed, I checked the nightstand for the usual key, but found none.

It was not the standard wooden door, so it made things doubly daunting.

"How are we supposed to get out of here?" Caitlyn asked.

We tried the keys in her jacket, pockets, but none of them fit.

When I found a knife next to the _Bountiful Life_ book, I put two and two together and decided that Charon had seen too much.

It felt like forever before I got that stupid lock open. I used Caitlyn's bandages to wrap my hands, wandering out.

The hallway was deserted. I had heard people's voices earlier, but I'd been the slowest getting out.

Whoever they were, they hadn't gotten far. I could hear guitar music and singing, and it didn't sound like a radio.

 _"I'm a so-o-o-ldier in the army of the Lord..."_ the song went.

Caitlyn scrunched up her face. "What's that?"

I crept closer to the source of the sound. "I...don't know."

As I approached the stairs, the song changed to an acoustic version of _This Little Gospel Light of Mine_.

In the lobby, I could see a group of people sitting around a man in a black shirt and clerical collar, singing along as he strummed on a guitar.

Eyes widening in excitement, I descended the stairs to join them.

Abruptly the music stopped. Everyone stared at me.

"Hi," I said with a nervous wave. "Are you all Christians? Homeschoolers?"

"Yes and yes!" the pastor guy said in a loud cheerful voice. He pulled out a bar stool. "Please. Sit down and join us."

I would have, but then I suddenly recognized the face.

Plump face, Texan jawline, moles on one side of the face, horse teeth.

The man was one of my so-called `friends' on Afexun.

"Red Lamb?"

"Please," he said. "Call me Chuck."

"You're...Christian."

"Me and everyone else in this room!"

Seven strangers stared back at me, one of them a grumpy looking overweight mongoloid with squinty eyes and scraggly whiskers that gave him a feline appearance.

They were mostly _older people_ , and didn't appear to be the friendliest sort, but there was a great deal I didn't know about Christians, the genuine ones, at any rate.

I saw a fat faced man with white hair and a white shirt and red sweater vest, an enormous bespectacled gray haired guy with swollen hands and a big stomach, a bearded man with a face like a bloodhound (he reminded me of a man in that old _Trapper John_ TV show mom had on DVD), a short stocky thirty year old blonde woman with a hairstyle that reminded me of a King Charles Spaniel, a paunchy balding man with cheeks like apples ( the husband, I assumed, of Spaniel Lady) and a little sportcoat wearing white haired man with glasses on his jowled face.

They all wore normal clothing that would have inspired yawns in 2016. I was the only one clad in something provocative.

My friends stared too, on account of the disturbance.

Moe, Josh and Kamara...All three sat in the back corner. They seemed to be tolerating Chuck's musical stylings well enough. Dewan and Gabby, however, looked bored. Lovelace and Willie appeared to prefer the solitude and quiet of the gazebo outside. I could see them through the window.

I didn't see Charon anywhere.

Really, the thing that made me the most apprehensive was the pastor.

"Forgive me if I don't trust you, uh, _Chuck_ , but in this place it's hard to trust anyone, especially if they're connected to The Board."

"I'm not with the Board," he said. "I was placed on this island as a punishment for sharing my faith."

"That's right," said a short white haired woman with aquiline features. "That's why most of us are here. We refused to be ` _deprogrammed_ ', so they sent us out here to live by ourselves in the middle of nowhere."

 _"Not such a bad trade,"_ Chuck said with a forced laugh. "Have you _seen_ what they show on television these days?"

I relaxed somewhat, helping Caitlyn into a bar stool.

"I always wanted to be a Homeschooler," I said in a small voice. "You know, part of the Christian community."

Dewan looked annoyed. I could see Kamara rolling her eyes. Gabby and Moe, however, seemed interested in how these people would react, and whether or not I'd be accepted.

I could tell by the way the woman was staring at me that she didn't approve of my costume. _"It takes all kinds, I guess._ "

 _"Well,"_ Chuck said, thrumming a chord. I could tell he was just being diplomatic, trying to smooth things over. "Do you know how to _sing?_ "

I kinda did, but I didn't know the words to _It Is Well With My Soul,_ so I just took a seat and listened appreciatively as everyone else sang it.

He played a few more songs that the other people knew but I never had exposure to (except maybe briefly in Ernie's memories), _Open the Eyes of My Heart, How Great Is Our God,, Lord, You Have Come to the Lakeshore, Lord, Let the Lower Lights Be Burning_ and something apparently of his own composing, ` _Be Mighty and Faithful._ '

After that, Chuck said a prayer, and Spaniel Lady passed out some crisp looking bibles, `The Message' and New Living Translations. They looked like they'd never been used before.

I liked Ernie's studies better.

We studied Old Testament cosmology, the concept of firmament, the geocentric universe, the flat earth, and Sheol, the place of the dead, below the surface, including some weird theory about the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil being thrown into hell, which lay below Sheol.

In a way, this was more destructive than all the anti-Christian propaganda I'd heard outside the island.

The references were rather thin, and if you thought about the bible verses with more care, they didn't necessarily present as unscientific a view as Chuck conveyed. In fact, I almost think he was intentionally throwing those verses in my face to create doubt. I would have even accused him of such, had he not looked so sincere about it, like his view of science and reality were an indisputable concrete fact and his bold confidence in it could steamroll over Galileo and geological core sampling. He probably would have scoffed at Columbus, too, had we not been transported to South America in an airplane.

The only thing that kept my faith stable in such a soft headed environment was the random thought Ernie had dropped into my brain about skeptics only attacking _interpretations_ of scripture, _not the truth of the words themselves._

A person living in ancient Babylon wouldn't know how to describe a semi truck or a helicopter if they saw one, but that doesn't mean that if they saw one, it wouldn't exist. The same could be said about the account of creation. It could be real, but the author didn't know how to describe things like dinosaurs or other things in modern scientific terms.

Of course, Chuck wouldn't say a thing like that. He preferred to just blow through and leave those troubling parts dangling.

Halfway through this study, the little man in the sport coat stepped behind the bar, pulling down a wine bottle. "Who wants drinks?"

Moe came up to the counter, pointing to a bottle of honey wheat beer.

The door at the back of the bar opened up, and out stepped Charon. "It's kind of early for drinking, isn't it?"

"Never," said the man in the sport coat.

I looked at the two of them like they were a pair of alcoholics.

"You're right," Moe said, pushing his opened beer away. "My stomach doesn't feel ready for that right now."

Dewan, however, didn't appear to agree. Joining them at the bar, he pounded his fist on the table. "Scotch on the rocks."

"Ah-ah!" Charon scolded. "No drinks for you until you're twenty one."

"What changed?" he asked. "I usually get them any time I want!"

"This is a special place. We go by 2016 rules. One of them is no alcohol served to minors."

"What time is it?" Moe asked.

Chuck glanced at his watch. "We still have time for a little more study."

I glanced at Dog Lady. "Are you people... _happy here?_ "

The woman's voice was a pleasant low alto, and clear as a bell, enjoyable even if she were reading a stock market ticker. "I admit it was a little rough at first, being away from family and friends, but we've come to accept this place as our home."

"Well," I said. "You know that heaven is our true home."

She frowned. "Y-yes. Yes, of course."

My eyes narrowed in suspicion, but I couldn't say for certain that this woman was a fraud. "So...It sounds like you've been here awhile. What do you normally do around here? How do you spend your time? Is it mostly church like we're doing now, or do you do other stuff?"

"We have a _farm_ ," said the biggest man. "We all help to plant the fruits and vegetables, and weed if we need to."

"The TV comes on twice a day," said the pointy nosed woman. "We pull up chairs around the appliance shop and watch the forecast and news reports."

"On Fridays we get a sitcom," the big man said.

The whole concept was bizarre, but TV wasn't really a necessity anyway. People had successfully lived without it for thousands of years before its invention, and the smart kids at school tended to avoid it.

Chuck checked his watch. "Speaking of which, _it's ten o' clock..._ "

The town square was not the rocky mine field I'd left. Instead, it was all dust and dirt, except at the border of Death Alley, where a thriving Technicolor rainbow of plant life blossomed.

The appliance shop reminded me of something from _Mayberry RFD_. Old fashioned small town repair place, with antique looking machines in the front window. The washing machine I saw actually had a washboard attached to it "For those tough stains", and the toaster looked like a collector's item.

The strangest thing about the place was not the chairs circling the glass front (though I wondered where they came from) but the television itself.

The object was a massive red thing, like one of those sets that came out before LCD flat panels, a cathode ray TV that took two or three strong men to lift and carry into place.

Although old fashioned in style, it didn't match the design of any model tube I was familiar with, like some hobbyist engineer from the future wanted to build a television in the `retro style' without matching the aesthetics of RCA, Magnavox or such like. The thing reminded me more of a lead safe.

There was no tuning dial, no remote control, only an on/off volume control. I half expected Billy Mumy to step out of the _Twilight Zone_ , clap his hands, and tell us that "This is all the TV there is."

The first thing that came on the screen was an ad for My Pillow, which seemed normal until I realized that someone had edited out the word "My" and spliced in fraction of a millisecond clips of David's alien wife walking around in a hospital corridor, talking with Ernie and Ernie's grandmother, then crying alone in her room.

The Homeschoolers with me didn't seem to react, except with slight flinches, but Kamara and I exchanged knowing looks.

"I'm Mike Lyndell. I invented Pillow because I believe that everyone deserves a great night's sleep. Pillow is machine washable and every part is made in the USA, in my home state of Minnesota."

I saw a block of text flash on the screen: WE'RE WATCHING YOU.

The commercial was followed by a weather report, a five day forecast for sunny and clear weather, announced by that squirrel faced thing from my Afexun friends list.

A smug looking young man with orange hair and freckles came on the screen. He reminded me of pictures I'd seen of Howdy Doody, but the suit and tie made him look smarter.

He stood in front of a fancy church backdrop, appearing to be an evangelist. "Today's thought is about the negative things that happen in your life. Some of you may be asking God right now, `Why me? O Lord, why do you allow this bad thing to happen to me?'"

He paused dramatically. " _Because you have sin in your heart._ God wants to rain all the blessings of heaven down upon you, but there needs to be purification. _Everyone knows that you are guaranteed a high paying job in America if you go to college and study hard_ , so likewise you can't be expected to receive any good blessing from God unless you reach out to him with your own good works, shunning all the sin of your heart."

Slowly, one by one, each one of the Homeschoolers looked at me, as if judging me for something I'd done, real or imagined. I suddenly felt guilty about sharing a bed with Ss'sik'chtokiwij.

"That's not right," I said. "God lets rain fall on the just and the unjust alike."

Chuck smirked at me. " _We tend to take his preaching with a grain of salt._ "

"It's our only source of information around here," Dog Lady said.

I sighed in relief. These people weren't as crazy as they seemed, after all.

Our news report was read to us by a thirty year old blonde woman with stringy hair and a narrow sour looking face. She wore a plain brown shirt with a military style cut, one without signifying patches or decorations.

She didn't look photogenic or professional at all, and she sat in a studio that looked like it had been done on the cheap, like news programs used to look like at the dawn of television.

"The company lost half a point on the NASDAQ Stock Exchange," the woman read from a piece of paper. "The wreckage of the Phyxo 218 Airbus has been fully decontaminated. As you may recall, a biological agent originally brought down the plane, claiming the life of John Shigaru Yutani, corporate executive for The Company. Hazmat teams have recovered his body and the synthetic human counterpart of CEO Mike Weyland, and are currently running them through final decontamination processing before being shipped to the States. Memorial services for John will be held at Montana Buddhist Temple in Helena."

Dewan's picture briefly appeared on the screen. "The adopted child interns from Disney's Work Study and Child Welfare Program have yet to be recovered. The location of those one thousand plus children remains unknown, but it has been suggested that radical Islamic forces from Mexico have captured and/or imprisoned them for use in illegal sweat shops or as sex slaves in brothels.

"Delivery trucks will be arriving on Monday. Keep gates clear of debris and pedestrians. Do not try to escape. You will not be let back in.

"Friday's movie will be the classic comedy _Arthur_ with Dudley Moore. One hour and thirty seven minutes. Rated PG."

The woman stood up, walking away from the camera.

The television continued to display the empty desk.

"Well," Chuck said. "Let's grab some breakfast and get to work."

They were their own kitchen staff. In the Chinese restaurant, the unfriendly bird nosed woman (Terry Veebock) set about preparing pancakes, omelets and hash browns. The vegetables she used were so fresh that they had roots and dirt still attached. The mongoloid (Denny) washed and cut them up for use in food.

Dog Lady (Sheryl Hellswage), her pot bellied husband Mel and the big guy (Bill Brewer) got so busy with preparations that they practically shoved me out the kitchen door.

By the way, the secret exit was walled off, just like in the other site.

Trapper John Guy (Rudy Flint) washed off the tables while the guy in the sweater vest (Jack Veebock) traded jokes with our avid wine drinker (Fred Shep). Nobody paid me the slightest bit of attention except Chuck, currently strumming _I Will Celebrate_ on his guitar.

He stopped plucking. "You seem to know about the bible. Who was your instructor?"

"You've been watching me," I said. "Don't you know?"

"That information is restricted access," he said. "So no, no I don't."

"A _friend_ told me," I said.

"With all the running around that you've been doing, how did you find the time?"

"If something's important enough, _you make the time_."

 _"Your friend sounds very wise."_

Wiser than you, I thought, but I didn't say it. "By the way, how do you access Afexun when you barely have TV?"

He pulled a pair of glasses out of his pocket. "The router comes on every so often, normally in the evening."

The food was delicious. After Chuck said grace for all of us, I sat with my friends, quietly enjoying it, the onions, bell peppers and strawberries.

As standoffish as Veebock seemed, she did bring food to my table, which was nice.

While he ate, Josh busied himself putting a pile of those interlocking metal brain teaser toys together and taking them apart. He made it look effortless.

Gabby appeared to be one of those compulsive eater types, tucking away almost as much as Moe. I guess it was more about being starved rather than a mental imbalance. The food _was_ too good to pass up.

"Better than that dog food they used to serve you on that boat," I remarked. "Isn't it?"

She nodded, stuffing her mouth.

"You're not going to stay with these creeps, are you?" Dewan asked me.

I took a bite of strawberry pancake. "I don't know. They seem like okay people. I'd at least like to get to know them better."

"I thought you wanted to go see Ernie and...your mother," Caitlyn said.

I sighed. "I do, I do. It's just..."

I glanced at the Christians. "These are the most decent people I've met since, well, I left home and found out about Learning Town."

 _"She's in love with the idea,_ " Kamara said. "But you can tell she doesn't exactly click with them."

"I can try," I said. "I don't know what it's like to be in a Christian community, but I'm willing to try my best to fit in."

"You sure you want to do that?" Dewan asked. "I mean, what was that deal with the TV? _They're weirdoes."_

"And you're saying I'm normal?"

The look on his face said no.

Kamara touched my hand. "It's okay. You're where you're supposed to be now. If you're content, I'm fine with it."

"Of course, she won't see her alien friends again," Moe muttered.

Kamara shrugged. _"I wouldn't say that..."_

I sat up straighter. "Do you know something I don't?"

"No, it's just, well, _it's a small island_ , and if The Board thinks it will help you, they might send your space friends over for a visit."

"So you're just going to...stay with these people," Dewan groaned.

"I don't see what the problem is," I said. "I was _in_ those cages. I know you didn't have any fun there. These people are decent, moral individuals. They'd never hurt a child. They won't even put you in boot camp."

He poked absently at his pancakes.

"It's Melba, isn't it."

The expression on his face reflected the dull hollowness inside. _"What do you think._ "

"Look. I'm sorry. I did what I thought would help _all_ the children."

The doors at the entrance of the restaurant came open, and in hobbled Willie, supported by an improvised cane he'd made from a stick.

Lovelace strolled in a minute later. I thought about asking her about the stage blood, but decided it unwise to do so.

"If you were really in those cages," Dewan said. "How come I didn't see you?"

"You saw how many kids were there. Plus I was only there for a day or so. Then I had a growth spurt."

"That sounds like a lie."

I stuck out my mouth claw. "A lot of things about me sound like a lie."

Gabby got so surprised that her mouthful of food wend down the wrong pipe, and she had a coughing fit.

"You okay?"

She nodded, her eyes as big as saucers as she stared at me. _"Carrumba!_ "

"Tell me something, Dewan," I said. "Was Melba ever... _happy_ when she was...a slave?"

 _"There were moments._ " He stared at his plate.

"So maybe I believe you were there a day or two," Dewan said. "It wasn't five years."

"Is that how long you were there?" I asked.

"And where were you all that time?"

I shook my head. "Being deceived by people on this island."

"And you want to spend your life with these kooks?"

I opened my mouth to say something, but at that moment Chuck pulled up a chair to our table, making me too nervous to give an honest answer.

"Hey," the man said. "Can I _pray_ for any of you?"

"No," Dewan replied. "But you can go away."

I gave Chuck an apologetic glance.

Moe took a swig of orange juice. _"I've_ got a prayer topic for you, reverend. This place doesn't have any damn bacon!"

Chuck just laughed and shook his head.

We were working the garden before you could say indigestion.

It turns out there was more than one garden. The one behind the hotel was much rougher, scattered with weeds and rocks. That was the one we attacked.

It seemed Lovelace wasn't afraid to get her hands (or her dress) dirty with work.

Willie, half crippled, couldn't really help that much. He could walk, sort of. It was all the bending and squatting that he found impossible. So he hobbled off, poking around in buildings.

Charon remained similarly aloof, stopping by to observe us once and awhile, but otherwise staying out of sight. She and Willie took their walks at different times, in different directions, so it was a stretch of the imagination to assume any sort of collusion.

"How is this any different from slavery?" Dewan complained as he broke up a patch of dry soil.

Chuck tilled a spot next to him with a tilling rake. "If you're a slave, you're in good company." He leaned on the tool, raising his voice. _"Isn't that right, fellow slaves?"_

The other six in his group made noises of agreement.

"Slavin' away," Bill grunted as he dumped a wheelbarrow full of fertilizer.

"We're all slaves to Christ," I said. "Right?"

Chuck grinned. "That's the reason why I've been watching you, Ellen. _You're an inspiration._ "

I found myself smiling. "Well thank you, I, uh..."

He couldn't have disarmed me, or made me feel more at ease than he did at that moment. "It's really God who deserves the credit."

"Humility. A fruit of the Holy Spirit."

I blushed. "I sincerely hope that's what I have."

"So what happens if I decide not to work?" Dewan challenged. "You'll beat me or something?"

Chuck sighed, shaking his head. "Never. No, the only consequence is that we'll have to work that much harder for fruits and vegetables to put in our meals."

The boy frowned. "So what do you want me to do?"

Chuck handed him a shove for digging seed holes and pulling up rocks, then passed me a pair of gloves. "Hey, would you mind _weeding_ for us? You've got the leather pants..."

And so we worked in silence for a few minutes.

Dewan broke the silence by pointing to a concrete pillbox with a steel door in the front. "What do you think is in there?"

I shrugged, yanked a thorny Smilax vine. "Probably something dangerous that we're not supposed to get into."

"Don't tell me you're not the least bit curious."

"It could be just a tool shed," I muttered.

"The tool shed is behind the hotel."

"You can never have enough storage."

I wiped sweat out of my hair and face.

I had the mouse hood pulled down around my neck. I briefly considered the idea of ripping the uncomfortable headdress off the outfit, but decided against it, in case of rain. It could happen any time in jungle climates. That, and bird droppings, tree sap, or any number of other unpleasant things.

I'd been spritzed a couple times by the irrigation machine as it passed by, which got me thinking about it.

Of course, it _was_ hot.

I moved on to pull poison ivy out of the ground.

"It's nice to see darkie children so well behaved," Bill remarked as he watched Dewan and Kamara working.

"Are you aware of how incredibly racist that sounded?" I asked.

"I'm sorry," the man said. "We don't get many of those where we're from."

 _"Those_ are my friends," I replied, indignant. "A Christian should be a little more respectful."

He backed away, looking embarrassed. "My apologies."

Bill returned to the task of bug spraying.

"There's a boat hidden on the shore a couple miles from here," I heard Rudy muttering behind me as I uprooted a spiky three foot dandelion-ish thing.

The man was digging rocks out of the dirt to make the soil more usable.

"A boat?"

He nodded. "A smart girl like you could probably find a way back to the mainland with it, or get into one of the boathouses, find something that will get you there quicker."

"Why are you telling me this?" I whispered.

He slipped me a gold locket. "When you're out, attach this to any Afexun terminal, and it will send an encrypted message to underground Christian cells within the United States. They will send people in to rescue us. If nothing happens, at the very least my daughter will know that I'm still alive."

I stuffed the locket in my top. "Thanks...I can't make any promises, but I'll.. _.see what I can do."_

I asked him about the `shed', but he said he didn't know. Nobody apparently had the key, not anyone he knew of, at least.

The more we talked about it, the more he got nervous. "I'd stay out of there if I were you."

Mrs. Veebock addressed me so suddenly that I jerked in surprise, fearing she had overheard our whole conversation.

"I'm going to see about getting you a new outfit," she said to me as she dug a channel through the soil with a trenching shovel. "A good Christian girl doesn't go around showcasing her wares."

"Thank you," I muttered with a red face. "I'd appreciate it...By the way, do you know who has the key to that... _shed_ over there?"

A look of disgust crossed her face. The amount of times I'd seen her making that same expression made me wonder if this was how she always looked.

"I don't know. The key got lost a long time ago. If I remember correctly, it was just a fallout shelter with supplies in it. _They're probably all rotten away by now.._.you know, _even bottled water_ has an expiration date..."

"I might be able to open it up for you, if you want," I suggested.

She answered with a dismissive wave. "Don't bother. You'll only make it easy for wild animals to get in there and cause problems."

"What if we found a key and locked up afterwards?"

Mrs. Veebock laughed. "You're welcome to try, but I don't think you'll find anything."

She resumed her work, not speaking to me for awhile.

I had a lot to think about now.

This man wanted me to sneak out, find his boat, and upload something on the network. If I didn't do it sometime, our friendship would be an uneasy one, with little trust. Right now, he appeared to trust me a great deal, or he wouldn't have reached out to me.

Or did he? We'd just barely met. It could be a game.

He didn't exactly give me a deadline, so I figured I maybe could get to know him better, establish his trustworthiness a little better. Unless he told me that the boat might float away if I didn't hurry.

But what if he were telling the truth? A boat _might_ be useful, especially if it could get me to Ernie's grandmother and the spaceship. Sending off his little file would be a piece of cake if we could simply zoom down to an internet cafe and drop it off on the way to space.

Or better yet, send the data packet _from the ship_.

The fact that he had to resort to such a convoluted means to begin with seemed to indicate that The Company had some method of detecting Satphone signals, _or controlling satellites_. Perhaps they even had a wall of electronic interference blocking the transmission of such signals.

But to abandon these people, the first true family of Christ I had ever encountered...

I pulled dandelions, elephant ears. They scolded me twice for yanking good plants, but how was I to know?

They had a chicken farm on the property. Chuck led me to it and had me do a few things there. I had so much fun helping out there that I was actually disappointed to find out, after about ten minutes of labor, that there wasn't any more for me to do.

I returned to the garden.

We returned to the hotel weary and soiled from our labors, in search of comfortable furniture and iced drinks, lemonade and iced tea and Shirley Temples.

What I saw when I walked through that door made me want to turn and walk back out.

In my absence, someone had set up a little museum display.

A museum of my sin.

The first item in the show: In a glass case filled with dirt, like some kind of paleontological exhibit, the skeleton of the burglar I'd killed and buried under the house.

MURDERED BY ELLIE SIEBERS, AKA ELLEN RIPLEY said the brass plaque above the case.

Next to it, I saw other kills, photographs of the people that died because of me, the racecar driver, the transvestite, cops and guards I shot, the people crushed to death by debris, men slain by facehuggers, Mendoza's dead body with graphic close ups of his mutilated genitalia, the wounds of Mazda Miyata's `husband'.

Next to these, someone had set up a display of my hunting trophies, the giant rat thing, the wolf lions, the fried pieced together remains of the invisible thing that attacked Lawrence in the doctor's office.

Terry frowned at the dead burglar. "What's all this?"

That's when a panel of the floor slid open, and one of those heavy red televisions rose into view on some sort of hydraulic lift.

"That's something new," Chuck muttered. "They must have just added it."

The screen came on, looping footage of me killing and maiming people, paired with pictures of me as an adult, in my costume.

Chuck's people, who had originally been standing halfway close to me, now backed away as far as they could, like I had an invisible forcefield surrounding me on all sides. Fred even stumbled over an ottoman in his haste to distance himself.

"That's the old me," I protested. "That was the life of sin that I left."

"Of course it is," Mrs. Veebock said, clearly trying hard to hide the skepticism in her voice. "Of course."

She moved no closer.

Kamara said nothing. She just drank lemonade and watched me.

Josh, who already knew my secrets, spent a long time staring at the human skeleton, his expression saying, "So _this_ is what all the fuss was about."

Caitlyn grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly. "I know you did those things for a reason, mommy."

I gave her a small smile.

Moe couldn't stop staring at the monitor. "That's one hell of a swing arm. Remind me to never tangle with you."

"I took a...life. Needlessly. I still don't feel good about that."

I pointed to the skeleton. "Or that."

I shuddered just looking at it.

"You shouldn't," Dewan said. "You totally kicked ass. You didn't take any shit, even as a kid!"

"I wish _I_ were that strong," Gabby agreed.

I just gave Chuck a pleading look. "I'm a sinner. Just like your friends. Surely they can forgive."

 _"There's a difference between forgiveness and trust,_ " he said.

"You said you've been watching me. Surely this isn't a surprise to you."

Chuck gave me a shrug. "I stand with my flock."

I glared at Mrs. Veebock. "You're all judging me, but what would happen if _your sins_ were put out on display for everyone to see?"

"They wouldn't. _Mine are hidden with God._ "

"That doesn't mean they don't exist. You're just better at hiding yours."

She didn't answer the accusation.

"Forget them," Dewan said. "They're not your friends. Just get your drink and go back outside."

And then in a lower voice, he added, "I want to see what's in that so-called `tool shed..'"

I stared at the group of cowering people, wondering how I'd make them act normal around me.

 _"I don't know..."_ I said. "I _am_ curious about _that...thing_ , but I also think trust works both ways. I can _be_ trustworthy and act normal, and maybe they'll cool out and do the same."

Charon served me and my friends some lemonades with a cherry spritzer and plenty of ice. Once properly refreshed, I led Caitlyn out the door, muttering, "You still got those keys in your jacket?"

I turned out none of them worked on the door, not even the one jammed in the obscene looking air freshner.

"So much for that," I muttered, turning to face our little garden. "Well, _back to work._ "

"You're going to give up, just like that?" Dewan protested.

"She's right. A wild animal could get in, like a snake, or, or something worse. It could hurt someone."

Dewan sighed. "Fine. Have it your way. I just thought you'd like to know as much about this place as you can, so you can maybe rescue that Ernie guy and his granny."

Now, the whole time we'd been trying to open this door, Chuck's flock had been gathering around us, watching from the distance, pretending to be gardening whenever I glanced their way.

I pointed to them. "Even if I thought that was a good idea, now isn't a good time."

The boy swallowed and nodded, sticking a shovel in a spot he'd been digging at before our break.

"Hey look!" Dewan laughed. "A human femur!"

The cheery excitement in his voice reminded me of a kid discovering a dinosaur skeleton rather than someone's grisly remains.

The femur was dry. Meatless. It had been there awhile.

"This used to be a medical waste dump," Bill commented, still not standing too close to me. "We're talking hundreds of years ago. The Company gives us special prizes for tools and bottles and things when we find them. They're collectors' items. Sometimes even the bones get us something, depending on the DNA profile."

A chill ran down my back as I thought about all those children in the hospital. "How do you know it's a hundred years ago and not... _something more recent?_ "

"Nobody makes glass IV bottles anymore. We found five of them under the other garden. Those date back to the Korean war."

Plastic IV bags aren't really practical for individuals of a certain PH scale. I thought about my acidic blood and shivered. "Y-yeah. _Sounds old._ "

He set the bone by a tree, giving me a nervous look, like maybe I would be putting him in the ground next.

We dug around, but didn't find any bones connecting to the femur. "Must have been an amputation," Bill murmured.

We ate lunch, worked, had a little worship service out in the field. I still felt like I had an invisible forcefield around me, a Christian fellowship without the fellowship part.

During my bible study with Ernie, I had learned about the Prayer of St. Francis, seeking to console rather than be consoled, that sort of thing. I decided this to be the best perspective to take with these people who clearly didn't like me, to be trustworthy rather than expecting trust.

Their garden stretched quite a bit down Death Alley, so we went there, worked, had dinner, then worked some more, until dusk fell.

Chuck checked his watch, announcing it was TV time again. We gathered around the repair shop, watching the One Channel Tube.

"A proposal for the completion of the Trump Memorial Wall was shot down by both houses today," our frumpy newswoman said. "The wall has suffered budgetary and construction problems since its conception and is still badly in need of repair. No plans have been put forward to resurrect the bill, which critics have often referred to as `Patching holes in the Great Wall of Swiss'

"House Speaker Judith White said that the bill was `Deader than Jesus', much to the amusement of The House. Proponents of the bill, however, were quick to argue that the bill, unlike Jesus, had a very real possibility of returning from its premature death if they could get enough backing from both houses at a later date."

I was startled by the lack of disagreement from Chuck's group. I thought I even saw a couple people smirking. I could only excuse Denny, because he didn't know any better.

"Aren't any of you in the least bit upset by something like this?"

 _"I think they're just tired,"_ Chuck said.

Bill nodded. "Anyway, they're just saying those things for shock value."

I frowned. "I'm not so sure about that."

"You know we believe that Jesus lives on in our hearts..." Chuck said.

I crossed my arms. "He also lives in actual reality."

"Shh!" Mrs. Veebock hissed. "I'm trying to listen!"

I don't know what the newswoman had been saying before, but now she reported this: "President Buddy Menaj has caused an international incident with Russia today, as a few careless words to the president in Moscow were mistranslated by Google's autotranslation bot in Afexun's Elite server.

"President Menaj claims that he told President Stalin Petrone that he `Should visit a German restaurant down the street from the White House in Denver, because Petrone is a fan of bratwurst, but Petrone says that the President told him, `Since you're a faggot that loves the taste of spicy dick, you should go down the street to a German gay bar.'

"President Menaj states it was an honest mistake, but Petrone believes it to be intentional. Several U.S. exports have been the subject of boycotts and heavy tariffs as a result."

She read a bunch of sports highlights, then gave another ultra specific announcement. "Tampering with cameras is not permitted. Penalties will be administered collectively as a result of any individual causing property damage in this way. You have been warned."

She walked away from her desk again.

We had dinner, another praise and bible study session.

Getting the impression that their lives were somewhat incomplete, I slipped out the hotel door, intending to rest a little on the bench and think about things, but then I saw a figure waving to me from beneath the gazebo roof. I hurried over there.

It was Willie, of course. He supported himself on a railing, waving me closer.

"I've been meaning to talk to you privately for awhile," he said when I got close.

"I hope this isn't something creepy."

He laughed. "What, and top you?"

Willie settled onto a bench. " _You seem quite comfortable here, even after that little show in the hotel._ Have you given any thought to escape?"

"A little," I admitted. "But really, it seems impossible. I don't know where I am, or where my friends are. I have to find them before I even consider..."

I didn't want to mention the spaceship. I wasn't sure I could trust him that much. " _...flying out of here._ "

 _"The hangars,"_ he said.

"...yeah. I...it's faster than a boat."

 _"But then there's that pesky radar."_

I nodded. "I think my friends can find a way around that."

"A _boat_ would be much less easy to spot."

"Did you speak to Rudy?"

"No, but if he suggested a boat, we must be thinking on the same wavelength."

Not wanting to give away my secret, I said, "I...want something that can get me a little farther away, and in a hurry."

"Fair enough, _if your friend can do what he claims._ "

Becoming suspicious, I changed the subject. "You and Lovelace seem.. _.close._ "

He smirked. " _I attempted to form an alliance_. We were hoping to find some decent blackmail material in that library, but, alas, we found no one of any useful importance. It's also _very peculiar_ that your book is a complete blank."

"I have a _museum,_ " I said. "Isn't that enough?"

The man chuckled and nodded. "All right. You got me on that one."

He unrolled a ragged piece of vinyl, one depicting a crescent shaped landmass. "Someone's been re-upholstering the furniture in the barber shop. I found this when I peeled back the outer layer on one of the chairs."

There were lights around the gazebo, so we both could see it fairly well.

I stared in puzzlement at all the little symbols.

He pointed to a red square, striking in an otherwise monochromatic backdrop. "That's us here, I'm sure of it."

"What's all that other stuff? Like the little black boxes?"

"I'm not really sure of that myself, but Lovelace seems to think they're towns like this one."

"And the little X-Men symbols?"

"Railroads were our guess, maybe just different types of buildings."

"Like a hospital?"

" _Maybe._ I can't say for certain."

I pointed to a letter next to one of the boxes. "You think this is an abbreviation for a color?"

"I thought about that, but where's the other B? You know, for black?"

"My friends are in Purple Zone. That could be the P."

"And how did you come to acquire _that_ information?"

"You saw me using Afexun."

Willie rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't put much stock in what those people tell you. It might be an elaborate trick to get you into their little Thunderdome."

The thought deflated me somewhat. " _Maybe,_ but we could at least do some recon...You really think that little concrete building in the back is a fallout shelter?"

"You're the one who melted a hole in your hotel room door. How about you check it out and tell me what's in there?"

"If I open it up, I won't be able to close it again."

"Don't tell me you're afraid of raccoons getting into their home canning supplies!"

I sighed, shaking my head. "I'm sorry. I don't want to get anyone mad at me."

 _"I picked the lock,"_ Josh said from the shadows behind me.


	46. Chapter 46: The Gray Building

It seemed that Josh had picked up some of his uncle's magic appearing tricks. I didn't know he was there until he spoke up.

For the most part, Josh had been going with the flow, helping out in the garden, staying out of trouble. He spent many moments talking to Kamara in private, working alongside her. It's stupid, but I kinda felt jealous. I had worked harder to get my mind off the subject (we weren't even the same age anymore) but I still felt bites from the jealous bug.

And then he kept looking at me. You know, because I was dressed like some adolescent's fantasy. Even now, I caught his eyes wandering.

In short, things were awkward between us. I pretended we were normal, like I were his aunt or something.

"You picked the lock?" I repeated.

"Yeah. I pulled the door `to', so you can just push it open."

During my meeting with Willie, I had instructed Dewan and Caitlyn to stay where they were, that I'd tell them what we talked about later. They watched me from the bench in front of the hotel.

I asked Moe to sit with them, to make sure they stayed put. "You sure you don't want me to come along?" he had asked.

"He's crippled," I replied. "I can handle him."

I now returned to them, explaining what I planned to do. "Maybe you should stay here," I whispered. "To avoid suspicion."

"I wanna come along," Caitlyn said.

She had rarely given me space, even when gardening. A couple times I got dirt and stuff on her because she practically clung to my leather clad legs. But what could I do? I had adopted her.

Dewan stood up. "Yeah. I'll help you with whatever you need, especially if it gets us out of here."

"I need a _distraction,_ " I said. "It'd help if you stayed behind."

"Yeah? And how am I going to distract them? In case you didn't notice, these people don't have anything better to do than spy on outsiders."

I glanced through the window and already saw a couple of people pretending not to be watching us. "All right. You can come with. Where's Gabby?"

"Dunno. I saw her sleeping in the lobby. I think that old lady took her upstairs to bed."

Gabby been pretty docile and submissive the whole time, always doing what the people told her. It was probably conditioning, from all the abuse in the Disney park, conditioning I hoped to someday break.

She had been helping out a lot in the garden, so she was understandably tired. Figuring her to at least be in good hands, I shrugged and followed Josh across the square.

Moe, of course, followed us, watching our back.

"The door is stubborn," Josh whispered as we approached the gray structure. "And it opens inward. It looks closed, but you can push it open because the lock hasn't engaged. I learned the trick from a dog I used to have. She always used to get into the living room and tear things up. "

"Midnight," I said. "I remember."

"No you don't. She died before you were born."

"Where's Kamara?" I asked Josh.

"I don't know. She said she wanted to be alone to think about things for awhile."

I frowned.

He shouldered the door open, and we entered a gloomy windowless chamber. My night vision picked up rows of shelving, Ball mason jars with fruit inside, and canning supplies.

"You ever put silverware in a drawer with a towel, and the towel throws the very same silverware onto the floor when you try to dry another dish?"

"Um, yeah?"

"Magicians use the same kind of principle to swipe things." He pulled a pen light out of his pocket.

"You should have stolen a bigger flashlight," Dewan complained.

I told Moe to stand by the door, to make sure we didn't get locked in.

The first row of metal shelving _did_ prove to be nothing but ordinary tools and canning supplies. The fruits appeared to be well preserved, though I suspected they had fermented. There were bags of seed and planters and some power tools, books on car mechanics, agriculture, car parts and tool boxes there, and racks of gardening implements hanging on the walls.

We found a light switch, but nothing happened when we flipped it.

Caitlyn picked up a jar of peaches. "Can I have one of these, mommy?"

"Leave it," I said. "It probably smells like wine and tastes like rubber anyway."

She put it back on the shelf.

Dewan picked up a chainsaw, pulling on the cord to start it up.

"Put that down!" I scolded.

"I just thought you'd like something for self defense."

I flashed my mouth claw. _"We'll be fine."_

He returned the saw to its place.

The store room seemed normal and industrial at first, but then I saw the formaldehyde cat heads and babies and animal skulls.

Caitlyn screamed, but I covered her mouth.

Dewan groaned. _"Oh please."_

"The MacDonald triad," Josh muttered.

I stared. "What?"

"Torturing animals. One of the first signs of sociopathic behavior."

I said, "Did _you_ ever torture animals?"

He rolled his eyes. "I could ask you the same question."

He shined the flashlight through a collection of mouse brains. "The answer is no. The gun...what I did...it was self defense. I got no joy out of it."

"Ditto," I said. "So...what happened?"

In a tremulous voice, he answered, "I don't want to talk about it."

"Fair enough."

We found several boxes full of toys and clothing, all labeled `Ellie's Things', with an accompanying serial number and age. Someone had drawn an X through the labels of each with a red permanent marker. `Expired' they said, with a specific death date.

When we opened one up, we found old clothing and dusty toys.

"You'd think they'd recycle these for the next clone," I muttered.

"Maybe they do. We don't know where these go."

Another shelf held more of the same, without the red marker or death date. `Lost,' the printed tags read.

"Does this have something to do with an airplane crash on an uncharted island?"

Dewan didn't get it. "Huh?"

"I doubt it," Josh laughed, removing a lid.

The boxes contained toys and books, jewelry and other keepsakes.

"My guess is that they were using this stuff to test memories." He pulled out a thumb sucking monkey doll. "`Daddy, where's my Monchichi?' `I don't know, sweetie. Where did you have it last?'"

My eyes widened. " _Picture straightening._ "

"What?"

"If I remembered something I never had, they could check to see if it had to do with the person I was cloned from."

I heard a wet kissing noise, then smacking sounds. When I glanced back, I saw that Caitlyn had popped open one of the mason jars, chewing on a peach. "They're not bad," she mumbled with her mouth full.

Josh pointed to a heavy looking metal suitcase. "What do you think _that_ is?"

I took it down, opening it up. As I did this, the fluorescents overhead gave a feeble flicker, then snapped to an irregular glowing that we could see by.

It looked like an explosive with lots of buttons and switches attached to bomb-like electronic components, but it seemed too neat and homogenized to be the work of a terrorist.

"Is it a bomb?" Dewan asked.

I shrugged. "It looks more like a mixing board for one of those film studios, or music recording."

"More like a demolitions case," said Josh, pointing to a label that said `fire.'

I touched a switch that said `projector.' "And this?"

He frowned. "I don't know. Let's take it outside, and put some distance between us and this room before we go fiddling with it. Who knows? There might be dynamite or C4 hidden down here, and we'd be blowing our asses up."

"It looks a little too silly for a demo set," Moe commented.

 _"See anyone near the door?"_ I asked, implying that he should go back to his watch.

He replied in a tone of voice that seemed to say `I thought we were friends.' _"The door locks from the inside._ No one can shut us in."

We took the thing outside, flipping the switch that said `screen'.

My ears pricked at the sound of a mechanical hum.

I looked up and saw a silver projection screen emerging from the top of a concrete wall.

At the same time, a cannon shaped projector on top of the hotel switched on, flashing the message `Jesus saves' on the screen in every color of the rainbow. All this time, I had thought the object was a vent or other uninteresting building feature.

I pushed a triangular play button.

Caitlyn munched a pickled strawberry as she watched the screen protrude more fully, the image changing to Robert Hazard smoking a cigarette on a street corner. A set of PA speakers hidden in the trees started in with the opening of _Escalator of Life_.

I flipped a switch, and watched, much to my astonishment, as a huge firework exploded above our heads, one of those fancy things that showed an image instead of mere flowers and popcorn sparkles. A purple unicorn appeared to ride into the night sky, galloping over a block of text reading `MERRY X-MAS.' It had been sitting in storage that long, I guess.

"I think we just sent the signal," I muttered.

As I reached for another switch, I heard a voice yelling, "Stop! Kulwad! Shut it off!"

I glanced up at the edge of the fence and saw a female figure in camo hanging on a tree branch, eyestalks staring down at me in alarm.

"Sharad!" I cried.

"Quiet!" she hissed. "They'll hear!"

The Abreya jumped into a nearby tree, disappearing into the canopy.

I switched everything off.

"Why listen to that thing?" Dewan asked. "Shoot off another firework!"

"Sharad is my friend," I said. "I'm sure she has a good reason."

Hearing a scuffling noise, I spun around, glancing at the pillbox with anxious readiness.

Josh followed my eyes. "What's that?"

 _"I think it's one of your friends,"_ Moe said.

"Lacethanny?"

"I shouldn't have offered her a strawberry," Caitlyn said.

Dewan clenched his fists. "Speak for yourself. I would have _thrown_ the jar at it."

"Please don't," I said. "She's my friend."'

I hurried into the building, following the scampering.

A steel door lay at the end of the storage area. I had intended to investigate it anyway, but we'd been distracted by the pyrotechnics case.

The dark scuttling shape paused just long enough there for me to understand what I was looking at.

It wasn't Lacethanny at all.

"Mark!" I said. "You're free!"

My adopted baby had changed since I'd last seen him, the product of unstable quick developing genetics.

The thing, the child before me resembled a six month old, but slimy and green, with insect-like limbs. His head reminded me of a strange kewpie doll, hair tentacles curling up into a point above a noseless face.

Despite the narrow chitinous limbs bedecked with porcupine quills, he still had enough baby fat to be cute. Ish. At least _I_ thought he was cute.

The next moment, Mark was diving through a pipe next to the door.

We tried Caitlyn's keys in the door, but again, it seemed they had been designed for a different location, probably the location I used to live in.

"That one looks like a car key," Dewan said as I gave one of them back to Caitlyn.

Josh, who had his ear pressed to the door, suddenly shushed us, raising his hand in a warning gesture.

"You think someone's in there?"

"I...think so. Unless it's a TV."

We held our breath for a few minutes, waiting for...whatever it was, then Josh set about picking the lock.

Gesturing for the children to stay put, I opened the door just a crack, then darted away once I saw what lay beyond.

It was a security station, monitoring every area of the town, every bedroom and shower, the gazebo, the garden...all on large computer screens.

A cluster of modern desks held the banks of monitors. And there, behind one of them, sat _my good friend_ Kamara.

I gasped when I witnessed what Kamara was doing.

Her hands moved across a keyboard, manipulating a flying drone as she eavesdropped on people's conversations with a headset.

Then I noticed the screen displaying a view from inside the store room.

I glanced up at the ceiling and cursed.

"Do mommies need to wash their mouths out with soap too?" Caitlyn whispered.

"Mommy's going to figure that out later."

A second later, Josh's mother stepped into view, pulling the door open wider.

"Shit!" Dewan cried. "I _knew_ we should've brought along that chainsaw!"

"That's _my mother_ you're talking about!" Josh hissed.

"So?"

Kamara spun in her chair, facing us. She looked disappointed.

"Ms. Ripley," said Mrs. Patterson. "How nice of you to visit! _Please, come in._ "

 _"I wouldn't,_ " Moe warned.

"She's piqued my curiosity."

"Curiosity killed the cat."

"I can take her. You can come along if you want."

So I stepped into the room, staring at all the monitors. I noticed, to my dismay, that several had been placed in trees, both to spy on Sharad, and possibly listen in to the conversations I'd had in the woods, when I thought we were alone.

The room was a simple dull gray bunker. In the back, next to a keypad protected security door, two morbidly obese people, probably on loan from Disney, did what people of that size were exceptionally gifted at: Watching screens.

Unlike the ones on the barge, these guys were fed with an IV drip, their arms and legs getting that deflated balloon look that fat people get when they lose weight.

I also saw no incentive screens indicating what they intended to earn from their labors.

On one of the monitors, I could see an outer wall of the Learning Town. The projector screen was back up, playing the music video for _Stop this Game_ by Cheap Trick. I found the lyrics "Can't stop the music" especially ironic.

"This looks cozy!" Moe muttered.

I frowned at Kamara. " _A regular home away from home._ "

Kamara opened a mini fridge, showing me a wide array of beverages, a sushi tray and a cheesecake sampler. "Want anything?"

I shook my head.

The security door opened and two Moe clones stepped into the room, both equipped with assault rifles.

"We should definitely leave," Moe muttered.

"No, no," said Mrs. Patterson. "Stay. _I insist._ "

"How come Bird Brain isn't here?" Dewan asked. "You'd think she'd want in on all the action."

 _"She has other duties to attend to."_

"Right. _But I thought you weren't supposed to_ iron _spandex._ "

"Funny."

"You got... _kinda close_ with those xenomorphs last night," Kamara said to me. " _Unusual behavior for a Christian._ "

"I'm not human," I said. "Not completely. So..."

 _"You slept with one of those things?"_ Moe gasped.

 _"We shared a bed,"_ I said. "We didn't have sex."

Kamara gave me this look like I was splitting hairs. _"It looked like you wanted to."_

I felt my face getting hot. "That's none of your business!"

Her facial expression seemed to indicate that she thought it was.

"You know, you're not being a very good friend, spying on me like that!"

"Would it help to say that if you want to sleep with aliens, I'm totally cool with it?" Moe asked.

I rolled my eyes, pretending like he hadn't said that.

"I was considering taking you with me," I told Kamara. "Now I'm not so sure. You seem... _comfortable_ here. Maybe you should stay here."

"And where are _you_ going?" she said. "I saw how you worked in that garden. _You like it here._ "

I pointed at the monitors. _"Not with all of those._ "

"Ellie. Be realistic. We need them for research."

"So you can study me."

"We want this program to be a success."

"Admit it," said Mrs. Patterson. "You like it here, don't you?"

I sighed.

"You could _stay here. A_ s long as you like. I can convince them to trust you. They might even grow to love you. I might even shut off a few cameras. All you have to do is answer a few questions."

"I can do without their love," I said.

"What about your _friends_ , then? Would you like to see _Pillow_ and _Ernie_ and your other close companions from the stars?"

I bit my lip as I thought about it.

"Don't do it, mommy," Caitlyn said. "She's lying."

"Am I?"

The woman pushed a button on one of the keyboards, and I was looking into Ernie's prison cell, apparently the same place in the same hospital.

The proto queen Ss'sik'chtokiwij sat alone, painting a still life of a bowl of fruit, oblivious of the camera's presence. She had no larva or other aliens with her.

I resolved to get her out of there, regardless of what cost.

"You'll make things a lot simpler if you cooperate," Kamara said.

"Mom," Josh said to Mrs. Patterson. "Will I be able to go home sometime?"

The look on his mother's face was unreadable. " _You are home, honey._ Go back to the hotel."

"What about us? Are we still family?"

"Of course."

"Where's dad?"

"In the Black Zone. We had a disagreement."

"Dead?"

She laughed, but it sounded forced. _"Such a morbid imagination._ "

"It's a morbid world."

Josh crept back through the doorway, but didn't leave.

"How do I know you'll actually let me see my friends?" I asked.

"Quid pro quo."

A heavy steel chair stood in one corner of the room. It resembled an electric chair, but lacked the helmet. Mrs. Patterson gestured to it. "Please. Sit."

"I don't trust you," I said. "Why should I do what you say?"

She pulled out a .44 Magnum, pressing it against Caitlyn's temple. "Because I'm holding a gun to your daughter's head."

Moe clenched his fists, but stayed put, for Caitlyn.

"Why the gun?" I said. "I thought you said I'd be able to see my friends if I cooperated."

"You think you deserve something after lying to us? Get into that chair."

I looked at her like she were crazy. "What, so you can torture me? Hell no."

Mrs. Patterson cocked the hammer back. "Get into that chair now or I'll blow your daughter's head clean off her shoulders."

"Kill the bitch!" Dewan growled.

"I can't!" I said. "She'll kill Caitlyn."

"If she can't hurt anyone ever again, I'd call that a worthwhile trade."

"You're crazy," I said.

"Haven't you seen the movie _Speed?_ "

"Your hybrid friend is clearly the brains of this outfit," Dee said.

The boy balled his hands into fists. "Fuck you."

With a sardonic expression, she remarked, _"What an imaginative response._ "

Dewan flashed his middle finger. "Stupid cunt."

"If you want to retain full use of your hand, I'd keep it by your side."

"You shouldn't have pulled the gun," Kamara said. "Now she's not going tell you anything."

"I'm old enough to be your grandmother!" Mrs. Patterson snapped. "Don't you tell me how to do my job!"

"You're just mad because I rank higher than you."

"What rank _are_ you, Kamara?" I asked.

"Shut up!" both women yelled at once.

"You're hot tempered, Dee," Kamara said. "That's why you keep getting passed up for promotion."

Mrs. Patterson turned the gun on Kamara. "You little Negro bitch!"

"I could report you."

"Little good that would do with your brains splattered all over the wall."

"You'd be out of a job faster than you can blink, so I'd be laughing at you from my grave."

Dee gave her a cold look. "Were you born with those brass balls, or were they grafted in?"

Kamara smiled. "Put the gun down."

While all of this had been happening, I'd seen Moe creeping up to Caitlyn, trying to sneak her away, but the two clones raised their weapons, aiming at his head, so he froze there.

Dee didn't move the gun an inch.

"You don't have the authorization," Kamara said. "Caitlyn still has usefulness to the program. Carrot versus stick. Threaten her with something more tangible, _something you can actually repeat, and get away with_."

"That still sounds like `stick' to me," I said.

"Shut up!" they yelled in unison.

Dee lowered her gun, but the two thugs kept their weapons aimed at my bodyguard. "What do you suggest, then? Torture?"

Kamara shrugged. "No, but if she finds out she can't blend in with her friends here, or wherever she thinks she can escape to, it might be an incentive..."

"I'm not going to tell you anything," I said.

"Get in the chair, Ellie," Kamara said with a steely edge to her voice.

"No," I growled.

"Unlike Dee, _I have the authorization,_ " she said. "We can and will kill or seriously injure your daughter if you don't get in that chair right now."

Dee nodded in agreement, waving the gun at Caitlyn. "Get in the fucking chair, Ellen."

"Don't let that bitch boss you around!" Dewan shouted.

"Stay put," I warned. "Don't do anything that will get us all killed."

Dee smirked at me. _"Excellent advice._ "

I glared at Kamara. "We're no longer friends, but my Lord commands me to forgive you. That being said, we're done. Enjoy your stay in Alcatraz."

No spaceship rides for you, I thought.

Kamara just rolled her eyes.

I seated myself, allowing Dee to tighten and lock the straps around my wrists and ankles.

Mrs. Patterson donned a pair of rubber gloves, then took a brown jug out of a cabinet, the kind of thing you expect to contain film developer or drain cleaner, unscrewing the lid. "Your body is extremely low on the PH scale, so regular acids don't have much of a chance of stripping your dermis or outer layers of skin. But _a positive base, if strong enough,_ can also melt flesh off the bone.

"I know your grades weren't too good in science, so let me simplify things and just say _it's a type of detergent, one you probably wouldn't want to use on clothing._ "

Dee raised the bottle. "Tell me, Ellie. How did you get those memories implanted?"

I just glared at her.

The woman tilted the bottle, but before anything could come out, Kamara blurted, "Not the right side. We need the Afexun system."

Mrs. Patterson moved to my left. _"Answer the question, Ellen."_

"What's the point?" I said. "You already said I'm not going to leave."

"We know you _want_ to leave. You're not going to have a very easy life with most of your skin melted off."

"Wait," Josh said. "What if they need her back in the outside world?"

"She's not going back to the outside world."

"You're going to kill me, aren't you?" I asked.

"Not if you pass your tests. We need super soldiers."

"How can I be a super soldier if you completely disfigure me?"

"We know you can't blend, Ellen. We plan to just drop you in the thick of battle and kill people."

"And why should I do that?"

 _"That's one of the things we're going to talk about._ After you tell me how you implanted those memories."

"I get deja vu," I said. "I think I used to be a colonist in that place."

"You're lying, Ellen!"

Dee sprinkled a dab on the back of my wrist. I winced as it smoked and burned.

I could tell Moe wanted to help, but of course he still had guns aimed at him. The men looked like they could point those weapons all day and not get tired.

Josh looked at me apologetically. It seemed he was also powerless to help.

"Now Ellen," Dee said. "I don't have to burn you. You can tell me what I need to know, and save yourself a lot of pain...how did you implant those memories?"

 _"I made flash cards,"_ I said.

I screamed as the harsh base poured of my hand, eating through the pink meat.

It was agonizing because I had actual nerve tissue there. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I watched the smoking white fluid corrode my flesh away, exposing the exoskeleton beneath.

Dewan charged at the woman with his fists raised, like he were going to knock her block off, but Mrs. Patterson just kicked him in the forehead, knocking him onto the concrete.

 _"The first one's free._ Try it again, little boy, and my guards will put you back down with a couple bullets."

"Fuck you!" he shouted.

"Yes, yes," Dee sighed. "You already said that."

I could feel the liquid coursing around my hand, stripping my palms down to the shell.

 _"How did you do it,"_ Dee repeated.

I didn't answer, so she sliced open my sleeve with a knife, threatening me with the bottle again. "How, damn you!"

"I..." I whimpered. "I... _I downloaded it from Netflix."_

The woman tilted the mouth of the jug, dumping the detergent all over my forearm.


	47. Chapter 47: Signal

The chair was far enough away from all the monitoring equipment that all the sloshing white liquid didn't affect anything electronic. It only affected _me_.

The whole area below my elbow had been stripped of its human exterior, leaving a glistening black five fingered `foreleg.'

"You're ruining my suit," I said.

"We can do this the easy way," Dee said as she cut my sleeve all the way up to the shoulder. "Or we can do this the hard way."

"Which one involves me pouring that shit all over your head?"

"The way you answer my questions, Ms. Ripley, makes me wonder if you're secretly enjoying this."

"What can I say?" I said. "I've always wondered what I had under there."

"Keep playing games and you'll find out!"

Dee clamped a hand around my throat. "How did you get those memories!"

"It was the sensory deprivation tank," I lied. "I...I relived the combined genetic memories of my past life and Ernie's grandmother!"

I screamed as the detergent melted off all the skin below my shoulder.

"You must think I'm a complete simpleton! The queen wasn't anywhere near the original Ripley until the point before their extraction from Hadley's Hope! And it couldn't have been your _Ernie_ because its genetics weren't even part of the cloning process!"

"And how did you get all _that_ information?" I snapped.

She narrowed her eyes. _"I have my sources."_

"As do I."

In anger, she flicked a glob of detergent in my face. It was only a matter of luck that the base missed my eyes.

The woman slammed the jug down on a counter, splattering its surface and parts of her pantsuit with smoking liquid.

"It's useless," she groaned as she used her shoulder to wipe splattered chemical off her face. "I should have known she was into S&M."

She grabbed Caitlyn, pressing her gun to the child's temple. "Your little black friend doesn't know what she's talking about. I had the right idea all along. This little girl has become something of a _daughter_ to you, hasn't she? As long as she's alive, nothing short of gouging your eyes out with an icepick will make you talk."

My fingers tightened on the armrests.

"Might I make a suggestion?" Charon said as she limped through the doorway, leaning on a nickel plated wolf's head cane for support.

Noting that she had everyone's attention, she waved around a pair of heavy duty pruning shears. " _I found these on one of the shelves._ The way I figure, you can either shoot the girl once and have no leverage whatsoever, or you can take this and snip off one piece at a time, _until the young woman becomes a little more cooperative._ "

"You leave Caitlyn alone!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.

Charon just smiled and tossed Dee the shears.

My eyes widened in terror as the woman grabbed Caitlyn's hand, forcing her right index finger in between the blades of the shear. "Don't move that finger an inch," Dee growled. "Or I may _accidentally_ cut it off by mistake!"

"Mommy!" Caitlyn cried. "Mommy help!"

I glared at my inquisitor, hands clamped in fists as I struggled against the restraints.

"Mom," said Josh. "You don't need to do this. _I can convince her._ "

Mrs. Patterson let out a coarse bitter laugh. "No. No you can't. The Company has given you _days_ to acquire that information and _you failed!_ "

Josh made no reply. He just looked away, cowering like a beaten dog.

"Don't get me wrong, Ms. Ripley," Charon said. "I don't want you or any of your friends getting hurt. We only want information. If you tell us what we need to know, your daughter can keep her little fingers."

"Fine," I sobbed. "I'll tell you! I'll tell you!"

And so I told her everything. About the worms, the brain dump, and the secret alien words that prompted a Ss'sik'chtokiwij to enter your brain.

"There!" Dee said with triumph. "See? That wasn't so hard!"

Caitlyn screamed as Mrs. Patterson snipped off her finger.

The girl dropped to the floor, sobbing as she clutched her bleeding hand.

"You bitch!" I yelled. "I _cooperated_ with you!"

 _"I'd hardly call that cooperation_. But I'll tell you what. _We can graft it back in._ "

She nodded to Kamara. "Ms. Porter, be a dear and put that on ice for me, would you?"

Kamara scowled at her, but stuck it in the ice tray above the drinks in the mini fridge.

The look on Josh's face said he was sorry, but he was helpless to do anything.

"What do you want?" I said to the woman. "You have your information."

"Why do you want to become a Homeschooler?" she asked, placing Caitlyn's middle finger between the shears.

"I...You already know the answer to that."

Judging by what I'd seen of Homeschoolers at that place, I wasn't sure I really wanted to become a part of that, if that's how they behaved, but I did want to become a part of a Christian community that actually took the bible seriously.

Caitlyn tried to wiggle free, but Mrs. Patterson was stronger, trapping her arm under hers so she couldn't move.

"Enlighten me."

"I'm a _Christian._ "

"That's not an answer."

Caitlyn shrieked as her middle finger came off.

In a rage, Dewan snatched Charon's cane out from under her, raising it to strike Mrs. Patterson across the head.

Before he could make contact, Charon took a Lady's Remington out of her top and shot him in the back.

The boy sprawled flat on his face and lay still.

With a look of indifference, Kamara picked up Caitlyn's severed finger, placing it in ice next to the other one.

"Dewan..." I moaned.

"You'd best keep your little brats under control," Dee said in a cold voice.

"Mommy!" Caitlyn sobbed. "Please! Make them stop! _It hurts!_ "

I could feel the base still eating away at me, slowly corroding my shell. "What do you want to hear?"

"The truth."

 _"That is_ the truth!"

Dee pulled the child close, preparing the shears once again, but the moment her hand put pressure on the plastic grips, a ball of red needles exploded from her chest and throat.

Mrs. Patterson spat up blood, sinking backwards on her knees.

"Mom!" Josh screamed. "No!"

I saw a pair of red claws ripping their way out, then a baby's head emerged.

I stared at the half ermine form crawling out of Mrs. Patterson. "Mark!"

Soaked in blood, my adopted alien child crawled into my lap, nuzzling against me.

The look on Josh's face told me nothing would be the same between us ever again.

Weakened from blood loss, Caitlyn dropped to the floor in a faint.

Moe rushed forward, snatching Dee's gun away from her.

Charon drew her gun, but Moe drew first, and Mrs. Patterson's body shielded him from the first blasts of his clones' assault rifles.

One of them fired again, but the shot went wild as a gray-white body popped out of his rib cage in a shower of blood.

Moe fired a shot in the six o' clock direction, but Charon made herself scarce.

He turned the weapon on his remaining clone, dropping him with a single shot to the head.

Then he grabbed Mrs. Patterson's keys, unlocking my restraints. I rushed to my daughter's side.

"Caitlyn, honey," I said, shaking her. "Please wake up."

Caitlyn groaned, looking tired, but her eyelids slowly opened.

She raised her injured hand, offering me the bloody stumps. "I have a booboo, mommy," she croaked. "Can you kiss it and make it all better?"

I placed my lips on the nubs.

"No," she said. " _I'm bleeding. Really kiss them._ "

"Mommy's saliva can melt through things, honey. I don't think that's a good idea, especially if you want your fingers reattached."

"No one's going to help us, mommy. Just stop the bleeding so I can get better."

Kamara didn't disagree.

With tears in my eyes, I placed the nubs in my mouth, coating them with a layer of burning saliva. I doused the acid cauterized wounds with bottled milk and water I found in the fridge, then poured liquids on my own burns as well.

Now, throughout this ordeal, Kamara had kept to herself, ever observing, never interfering, as if she had some hidden motive for letting us do what we wanted.

She didn't speak. She only voiced her disappointment with her eyes.

And then, as Josh knelt by his dead mother's body, she went to him, wrapping him in a silent but comforting embrace.

I checked the boy on the floor, but didn't see any sign of life. No breathing. I said a little prayer and left him where he was.

Mark crawled up my back, hanging gently from my neck like a baby marsupial.

I took Caitlyn in my arms, carrying her back into the store room, where I fed her some canned fruits to bring her sugars back up.

Caitlyn slowly regained her strength, and I led her, by her good hand, back out into the field, where _Stop This Game_ was still playing on an endless loop.

"Is she going to be all right?" a voice called from above me.

I glanced up and saw that Sharad had returned. "I hope so."

The Abreya waved to my daughter. "You're a very brave girl. I used to have two livers, but then I got shot and they had to take one out."

"Did it hurt?"

Sharad shrugged. "Yeah. At first. Even after the operation."

"Why don't you come down and join us?" I said. "I miss having you around."

"I'm not setting foot in that death trap." Her eyestalks pointed at Moe, perhaps not meaning to. "Especially with _that guy._ "

"He's not as bad as you think," I said. "Besides, I don't know what you're complaining about. _At least your mother is still alive._ "

"Speaking of which," I said. "Have you seen her lately?"

Sharad shook her head. "I've been too busy trying not to get killed."

"I'm really sorry," said Moe. "Your mother seems like a nice lady. I'm glad they only wanted the tail."

"To rob an Abreya of their tail is like robbing them of a hand."

"Look, kid. I don't feel good about what I did, but I had to do it."

 _"Poniki!"_ Sharad said to me. "How can you forgive someone like that?"

"Practice," I said.

She disappeared into the treetops.

"I apologize for the deaths," Lacethanny said as she scampered behind me. " _You seemed to be in danger._ "

 _"It's fine,"_ I muttered. "I mean, it's not but it had to be done."

"I still don't buy your answer," I said to my big friend. "As you've clearly seen, this place is horrible. _Are you certain_ you wouldn't want to come with me if we found the ship and took off?"

Moe and I had been discussing the matter while working together.

He kept finding excuses to be near me. It was a little annoying, but a real friend isn't something that is made or chosen.

"Haven't changed my mind since the last time you asked," he answered. "Have fun...wherever you end up."

"But I can't just leave you!"

I thought I saw his face turn a little pink at this.

"Yeah," Caitlyn said. "My mommy needs a daddy."

Now I was blushing.

"You have to think of the big picture, Ellie," Moe said. "If you stay here, there's no point in fighting or even leaving this place."

"Sure I can't twist your arm?"

 _"You'll have to twist it pretty hard,"_ he said.

I frowned, wondering if he meant what I thought he did, or if I was reading too much into it. I was afraid to ask, really. We were friends, but I wasn't ready to be _that close_ , not with him. "If you change your mind, let me know."

"They'll probably be able to track me anyway."

I sighed. "You're probably-"

A massive explosion blew the main gate wide open, the thick metal barrier crashing down on the dirt with a tremendous clang.

When I saw a group of uniformed children with shaved heads storming through the opening, I made a quick retreat into the hotel.

I found Willie at the bar with a glass of cognac, our reverend Chuck perched on a stool nearby, strumming _How Great Is Our God_.

"Why don't you play something interesting?" Willie complained. "Like _Judas Priest_ or _War Pigs?_ "

"Sorry. Stryper is as hard as I go."

Hearing my footsteps on the creaking boards, Willie turned on his stool, giving me a broad smile. "So. What have you found?"

I sighed. "A lot of misery."

"You look for something, and then you suffer. That's pretty much the sum of human existence." With that, he drained the rest of his glass.

Almost as an afterthought, the man asked, "What happened to your arm?"

"I was about to ask the same question," Chuck said, also not as surprised as I expected. The others in his group were gawking, but not him.

 _"It's a long story,"_ I said.

"And that thing hanging off your neck?"

Mark gurgled his indignation.

 _"A friend,"_ I said.

Then, realizing it didn't matter anymore, with my arm like it was, I said, "My adopted son."

He would have mentioned Lacethanny, but she had grown used to hiding, and had disappeared behind the bar just seconds after I'd entered the lobby.

Moe settled at the bar, pouring some cognac for himself.

"Anyway," said I. "I sent the signal. The Purple Rat is here."

I glanced at the people around me. "I'd be careful if I were you. Those kids are dangerous."

"More dangerous than you?" Dog Lady asked.

I didn't acknowledge that with a reply.

Seeing as they'd been adequately warned, I hurried back outside. I thought about grabbing Gabby, but I figured she would be safer in the hotel, at least until I knew what I was getting into.

"Where's Purple Rat?" I asked an elfin looking soldier boy nearest the hotel entrance.

"I don't know," he said.

I sighed. "Could you give her a message, then? Could you ask her if we can leave now? _We sent the signal..._ "

"What signal?" the boy said.

I stared at him. "What do you mean, `What signal?'" Growing impatient, I snapped, "Let me talk to your superior."

The boy paled, his lower lip trembling. "Is this a test, milady?"

That's when I noticed the other children doing strange genuflecting gestures, muttering odd prayers, and dropping to their knees before me.

My brow furrowed. "You're not...with Purple Rat."

"Your prophet is coming," the boy answered.

I goggled as four adults, two men and two women, all with shaved heads and ponytails like Egyptian slaves, came marching through the main gate, bearing a covered palanquin like it were the holy Ark of the Covenant.

"Make way!" I heard a voice crying from behind them. "Make way for the holy one of God!"

As the palanquin drew closer, its drapery parted in a section, and I could see Julia propped up on a pile of cushions inside.

A fine rug was spread on the ground, and the adults set the palanquin down.

Following this, a long haired figure in a flowing white robe parted the crowd, rushing up to me with an expression that could only be described as religious ecstasy.

"Golic?"

"Milady and my Lords!" he cried as Moe, Caitlyn and Lacethanny came out to join us. "It is good of you to be here."

"I don't think so at all," I replied.

"It's kinda _Stepford Wives_ -ish," Moe agreed.

"Then it is good that I have come to _liberate you_."

I gave him a nod.

The door came open again, and out stepped Mr. Hellswage.

"What's going on out here!" the man shouted.

Without a word of explanation, one of the palanquin bearers, a tall pale faced male, approached the man, and in one quick brutal movement, rammed a hunting knife through his chest.

I backed away in horror. "You didn't have to do that! He's not in charge of this place! That was totally uncalled for!"

"Tido," Golic scolded. "Explain."

"He _smelled false_ , O Holy Prophet."

I retreated further.

"O holy offspring of Shasharmazorb, why do you retreat? We dare not lay a hand on Our Lord's anointed."

"I..." I stammered. "I have to use the bathroom."

I quickly bolted into the lobby, with my daughter in tow.

Although I hesitated to leave Caitlyn so close to the mob, the girl was still clearly in shock, so I left her in an easy chair, giving Moe instructions to watch her with hawk-like vigilance, and protect her at all costs. He gave me a grim nod, setting down his drink.

"Hide!" I shouted to the other Christians. "These people are crazy! They can and will kill you! Hide now if you value your lives!"

Dog Lady, who had just witnessed her husband's murder, fought down a sob. "It's no use. The front door is the only way in or out."

"Have you seen Willie or Mrs. Lovelace?" I asked the others, but apparently nobody remembered seeing them after evening service began. They just stepped out at separate times, to some other place in the town.

I rushed up the stairs to get Gabby.

When I reached her room, the door was open, and I saw Mrs. Veebock pressing a pillow to the child's face.

Gabby's arms did not move. It seemed she had stopped struggling a few minutes before I arrived.

"Hey!" I shouted. "Hey!"

"It's a good thing you killed her," the woman growled. _"The little shit reported Christians."_

"Wait," I said. "What?"

"The girl got her high scores in her little social network by sending Christians to reprogramming centers."

Figuring that the "You killed her" part was a verbal slip up, I said, "I thought Christians were supposed to rejoice in persecution."

"And how do you know that? I hear you _don't even have time to read a bible._ "

"I managed to squeeze in a few lessons. _A friend helped me."_

 _"He must have told you many things."_

I tried to do rescue breathing on Gabby, but it was too late. I wept.

And then, all of a sudden, the woman dropped the pillow at my feet and cried, " _What did you do!_ "

Unthinkingly, I picked it up, staring at the girl's unbreathing body.

Hearing gasps of shock from the doorway, I looked up in time to see Mr. Veebock, Bill and Mrs. Hellswage staring back at me with wide eyed horrified expressions on their faces.

"See that!" Mrs. Veebock exclaimed. "She's smothered this poor child!"

And there I was, still clutching the murder weapon.

"What do you mean, `What did I do?'" I shouted. "You're the one who smothered her to death!"

The woman's face flushed bright red in anger. "Oh no! _Don't you dare_ try to pin this one on me, _you cold blooded murderer!_ "

"I didn't do this!" I protested, pointing to Mrs. Veebock. "It was her!"

"And who was caught holding the pillow!" she hollered.

"That's because you-" I began, but she didn't let me finish.

"Lies!" she screamed, pointing her witch's claw of a finger at me. _"And you call yourself a Christian!"_

The look on the other peoples' faces told me I didn't have a snowball's chance in hell of defending my innocence.

"Look," I said. "It doesn't matter if you believe me or not. I am blameless in the sight of God."

"Funny," Bill said. " _That's exactly what those people downstairs are saying._ "

"Oh no!" I gasped, shoving past him, into the hallway.

As I raced down the stairs, I saw Tido yanking up Denny's sleeve.

Denny punched the man in the face, but only received a knife in the stomach for his troubles.

To my relief (but maybe a little fear), I saw no sign of either Moe nor Caitlyn in the area.

For some reason, I saw Chuck fumbling with the back of his guitar. Before he could succeed in... _tuning it,_ or _whatever he had been trying to do,_ one of the cultists threw a knife into his skull. He dropped dead on the floor, his guitar thudding noisily on the hardwood beside him.

"Stop!" I cried. "Stop killing people!"

"These are not people!" Tido said. "They are wolves in sheep's clothing!"

"Where is your proof?" I challenged.

"Why argue with them?" Bill asked. "They're as sick as you are!"

With a surprising amount of nimbleness, Fred Shep slipped behind the cultists, grabbing a fireplace poker, but Tido knifed him the moment the iron struck him in the leg.

"Stop!" I said. "Don't kill any more! Deprogrammed or not, that's not a Christian thing to do!"

"I'm not a Christian," Tido said matter-of-factly.

I shuddered.

Hearing a gurgling shriek behind me, I spun around just in time to see Dog Lady raising a serrated steak knife in a stabbing motion, a female cultist impaling her through the throat before she could complete the action.

As I took several steps backward, my foot bumped into Chuck's guitar, revealing the handle of a Smith and Wesson.

I saw Julia's face pressed against the glass, sniffing and watching us from outside. She wasn't quite the proper height to open the door, even if she could be of any help.

Who are these people? I asked myself. What is the meaning of this deception?

Tido slashed open Bill's sleeve, up to the bicep, and I had at least a partial answer.

The number 666 had been tattooed on his upper arm.

666!

"The number of the beast!" I cried.

"No," Tido said. "Those are letter G's."

"Gideon, Garmin and Gemeinschaft," the woman explained. "These pharisees are graduates of the United States deprogramming centers."

"They're...not Christian."

"No. Someone's been lying to you."

 _"`I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot,'_ " Tido quoted as he slashed Bill across the throat. _"`Because you are lukewarm, neither hot nor cold, I am about to spit you out of my mouth!'"_

The big man fell down dead.

Now, unknown to me, Moe had been hiding behind the bar. I didn't know he was there until I heard a voice shouting "Ellie!" and felt his body tackling me to the floor.

The bar exploded in a spectacular shower of glass, liquor and machine gun bullets.

The flashes were like lightning, the smells like a brewery.

I looked up from the floor and saw the muzzle of a tripod mounted machine gun poking out of the shattered bar mirror.

Two of the palanquin bearers collapsed in shrieking and a spray of blood.

Moe had Chuck's gun in hand and pointed before I noticed the white haired figure rolling her thumbs across the mini tablet computer that remotely controlled the weapon. The tablet had been concealed inside a wall panel, connected to the system by a long cable. He shot her once in the forehead, once in the chest.

Her husband, seeing that he was outnumbered and outgunned, dug a black capsule out of his pocket and swallowed. In seconds, he had foam gushing out of his mouth and blood pouring from his eyes. He stumbled and fell down the staircase.

"Coward," Tido said. "May you be banished to the outer darkness."

The cult member semi miraculously survived the hail of bullets by just happening to be tying his shoelaces at the time.

"We're missing a church guy," Moe whispered. "Where's _he_ hiding?"

"Trapper John?" I asked.

That went way over his head. "Who?"

"The guy with the bulldog face."

"Yeah. Where do you think he went to?"

"I don't know, but he'd better stay there if he wants to get out of this alive. Where's Caitlyn?"

He pointed at the small face poking out from the corner of the bar counter.

The killing stopped. Golic's people had won. I brushed myself off and stood up.

For a moment, I just stared numbly at the carnage around me, disillusioned at the loss of what I perceived to be Christian fellowship, the key to a normal human life among people I respected.

Worse, I had lost _hope_. And _trust_.

If I ever found a real community of bible believing Homeschoolers, would they behave exactly like these people? If so, how would I be able to tell the difference? These people put on such a believable act!

One thing for certain: I wasn't going to trust any human being claiming to be a `normal Christian' ever again, not on that island, at least.

Of course, Golic's people weren't exactly my peers, either, but I appeared to be stuck with them.

In a daze, I led my daughter outside, into a crowd of chanting, bowing children.

They stopped and cheered.

"Great is Shasharmazorb!" Golic shouted when he saw the two surviving palanquin bearers following us out. "She has spared Her servants, and poured out her wrath upon those She opposes!"

"Two of your people are dead!" I shouted over the cheering.

Silence. The crowd looked worried. Uncertain.

 _"Their work is done,"_ Golic said. "Their souls now rest in the egg sac of Shasharmazorb, awaiting rebirth."

He was answered by fervent chanting.

His followers murmured, a hungry sound reflecting a need for some kind of spiritual sustenance.

The man, appearing to sense this feeling of desperation, immediately launched into a bizarre rambling mythology of his own devising.

Lacethanny, Julia, Mark and I naturally received frequent mention during the course of this, perhaps to keep us awake.

The speech was a magical mystery tour, a long trip down a rabbit hole, one which had its own interior logic, yet made absolutely no sense whatsoever.

And then one of the children stood up and shot him, a flower of red spreading from a ragged hole in his chest.

He fell to the ground.

"Golic!" I cried, rushing up to the victim.

In his last dying moments, the man reached out and placed a hand on my exposed exoskeleton.

 _"My cup...is empty,"_ he gasped.

He did not speak again.

* * *

[0000]

Author's note: You know what the writing books say. "Kill your darlings." The Chinese Zodiac is full of characters, so I had to winnow some of them out. Golic had a good run, but I ran out of ideas for him, he's gone as far off canon as you can get, and he's mentored someone anyway.

I'm trying really hard to get to the end of this story, so I can go into the Alien Resurrection plot. That means throwing off anything that slows me down, like side stories about other characters. But don't worry, I'm trying to pull them all back together in some way, shape or form.


	48. Chapter 48: War

War erupted the moment the charismatic leader of the Shasharmazorb cult expired, two factions of identically clad children laying waste to each other with assault rifles, semiautomatics, and a wide variety of other deadly weapons.

It was dark, but, as usual, the flood lights had come on at dusk, and we had the movie projector providing additional light.

Despite Golic's people shooting out some of the speakers for the grand speech earlier, the movie and PA system had not shut off. Instead, the music video had changed to _Don't Mean Nothing_ by Richard Marx. You could still hear strains of it over the raucous noise of battle.

For a brief instant, I could see Mrs. Lovelace's face peeking around the corner of the repair shop's front window. A bullet hit the clapboard, and she dove back down.

She can stay there, I thought.

There seemed to be no clear sides in the conflict, no definite indication of affiliation with a faction or political group. No jerseys, special uniforms, not even `shirts versus skins.' The fighting did not even appear to divide on racial or sexual lines, for the bloodshed had the feel of something indiscriminatory.

But then I glimpsed the Purple Rat's face at the back of the crowd, saw her hand doing gestures I recognized as Afexun system commands, one battalion of children pressing their fingers to their temples, aiming at specific children.

Red lights flared on their targets' arms, an indication of incredibly low social network scores.

In the early evening twilight as it was, having those lights on your arm was akin to holding up a giant neon sign that screamed `shoot me'.

The terrible thing was, American police probably used the same exact techniques to hunt down anyone who didn't think and act like they did, dragging anyone who wasn't a spineless sycophant down to their little re-education camps.

These targets were the praying ones, the ones that preferred close quarter knife combat to bullets, the ones who stuck close to me and my friends, trying to protect us.

Purple Rat's soldiers shot up the cultists like practice dummies. In the space of a minute, twenty lay sprawled dead on the ground.

And then the self driving cars came in.

I understand the appeal of fully automated steering. Really I do.

No more drunk driving.

No more vehicular accidents caused by texting.

No more deaths caused by distracted driving.

The problem is, someone is still behind the wheel, if only by electronic means.

People can still die.

There were only three of these vehicles, but that was enough.

The first one rocketed across the square, mowing down four children. The car didn't slow, even when the small bodies rolled beneath its wheels.

The tires broke their little arms, their legs, crushed rib cages, caved in skulls.

 _"It don't mean nothing, no victim no crime,"_ Richard Marx sang through the tinny speakers. _"No, it don't mean nothing, just signing on the dotted line..."_

In _Deathrace 2000_ , that old movie with David Carradine, race car drivers got awarded points for running over pedestrians. They got something like ten points for adults, fifty to a hundred for children or mothers with their babies.

If people on the island were going by that system, I estimated that someone had just earned about nine hundred points.

And then the second car brought the score up to twenty seven hundred.

The cars had no passengers, required no drivers.

Well, almost.

A bony looking black haired little girl sat cross legged on the roof of the slow moving third vehicle as it rolled in, fingers flying across the keyboard of a slimline laptop, her hand movements corresponding to the motions of the `self driving' cars.

`Yuffie', I presumed.

"Did you ever see _Maximum Overdrive_?" Moe asked. "Or _Duel?_ "

I gave him a slight nod.

The venetian blinds on one of the hotel rooms flipped open, and I saw Willie peering out.

He closed the blinds the moment we made eye contact.

I clenched my fists as a car crunched over another child.

"What is thy command, milady?" Tido asked me.

I stared at him. The man's horse-like facial features resembled that of some obscure European rock musician from the eighties, minus the hair. "My...command?"

"Yes, milady. If thou biddest, I will walk through the fires of hell itself for thee. I only wish to please thee, and rule at your right hand at the ending of the world. Speakest thou thy commands, that I may find the fulfillment of my being."

And I thought the lives of those phony Homeschoolers were incomplete!

Still, you don't look a gift horse in the mouth.

I pushed Caitlyn toward him. "Watch her. Guard her with your life. And get some of your people to knock that girl off the top of the car in the rear. She's running those death machines."

"By your command, milady!"

He barked orders to the children in halting Ss'sik'chtokiwij.

"Mommy!" Caitlyn protested, but I just rubbed her head.

"Mommy will be back."

A grenade landed on the palanquin, hurling fragments of gold painted wood in all directions, blinding, maiming, killing, and otherwise injuring any children standing close to the blast.

"I'm terribly confused," Julia said as she scampered up to me. "I've never been in a war before. What am I supposed to do?"

"You know which kids-" I fought down an involuntary shudder. "... _Worship you._ I want you to protect them, and my friends. Caitlyn especially."

Caitlyn gave the Ss'sik'chtokiwij a bashful wave with her good hand.

"Do I have to kill?" Julia asked.

"Only if you can't find a better way."

"What about me?" Lacethanny asked when she joined us.

"Help Julia," I told her. "And keep an eye..."

Despite what I'd heard and saw, her face did not clearly indicate the presence of them. "Protect _Moe_ if you see him getting in trouble."

She nodded.

Yuffie was gone from the roof of the car, but it didn't appear to affect the vehicular homicide in the slightest.

Those children may have been brainwashed cult members, but they were still children. I couldn't let this slaughter continue.

Moe shouted in protest, but I was already running through the crowd, to the nearest car.

Mark dropped off my back, weaving back and forth between my legs as I ran, causing me to stumble a few times and kick him.

The hybrid viciously attacked any child standing in my way, ally and foe alike, but I had no time to scold him or teach him the difference.

I jumped on the hood of the car.

Since I had no skin, or nerve endings in my left hand (except maybe under the shell) I made a fist and rammed it through the windshield.

I cleared out the glass with this chitinous limb and jumped into the front seat, frowning at the control panel.

I didn't have the time or skills required to bypass the complicated automatic system, so I just shoved my claw through the monitor, yanking wire after wire until the engine stopped.

It seemed like I'd killed it, but the moment I climbed back out, the engine started back up, on account of some hidden bypass system of which I had previously been unaware, but by then a pair of Golic's children had punctured the tires with their knives and shoved things through the grille, jamming the engine fan. The motor stalled.

The children that stopped the car ended up being gunned down, but at least we'd removed one of the enemy's weapons.

Julia was running interference, jumping on Purple Rat's soldiers, hissing, clawing and otherwise scaring them back several feet, without any deaths. Good girl, I thought.

I glanced back at the other car. Moe had already shot out its tires and windshield, puncturing its hood with the remainder of the clip.

A boy tried to shoot him in the back, but Lacethanny tore into the kid before he could fire off a shot.

 _"This race is for rats, I'm sure that you'll go far..."_ the song lyrics said as they looped over, gunshots downing out the rest until it got to the part that said, _"There's no one you can count on in this sleazy little town..."_

When Moe saw me running for the last car, he picked up another dead child's gun, providing cover. He killed a couple kids, but they were kids with machine guns, so it wasn't entirely unjustified.

Moe rammed his way through the crowd like a football player, firing off shots with whatever guns he found, when necessary to do so, shoving attackers into the dirt when not.

With his height, he seemed to be an easy target, but the army seemed reluctant to shoot him for some reason.

Tido, on the other hand, stood boldly amidst the mob, at times stretching his arms to the sky, or stabbing a kid that came close to injuring my daughter. The way bullets missed him seemed almost miraculous.

Now the Purple Rats had become emboldened by the Ss'sik'chtokiwij's reluctance to kill. Julia had resorted to throwing rocks.

C'mon, girl, I thought. Keep trying.

I instructed Mark to only attack children who didn't have the red lights on their arms, but as I charged ahead, I noticed that the instructions hadn't sunk in. Oh well, I thought. I'd have to scold him later.

Now that I knew how to disable a self driver, I had the cords pulled the moment I got through the car's windshield. The engine turned when I climbed out and fumbled with the hood latch, but by then I had the battery cables unplugged.

I ran back to Tido, to check on Caitlyn. The man had blood darkening the sleeves of his fatigues, and more at the stomach, looking like he'd been shot a couple times, but he was still standing, and my daughter remained alive and well.

Julia was on the ground, ripping open some kid's jugular.

She's doing what she has to, I told myself.

"Thy servant hath obeyed," Tido said. "Does it please milady?"

"Yes," I reluctantly admitted.

"I eagerly await thy next command," Tido said.

Golic's kids were still dying. With those glowing red lights on their arms, and no military training, they were easy targets, even when they covered the lights with rags or their sleeves...or anything else they tried. I saw a couple kids cutting their arms open to get at the lights, but then their wounds gave them away, and they still ended up getting shot.

Moe bowled over a bunch of child soldiers, rushing to my side.

"Everything good?" he asked.

I shrugged. " _I suppose it could be worse._ "

"Milady?" Tido prompted. "Thy orders?"

"I need you to escort me out of here," I said. "To the _coastline._ There's a _boat._ "

"How are we going to do that, mommy?" Caitlyn asked. "They're shooting from the gate!"

"Shasharmazorb will protect us," Tido said. "She will not let her children see harm."

I raised my flesh-less limb. _"It hasn't worked out well for me so far._ "

"Shasharmazorb allows us to go through trials, but she will spare your life."

"Do bullets count as trials?" Moe asked as one whizzed past his head.

I sighed. "It's no use. They're using that Afexun system somehow. Maybe...the same way people were seeing fairies and special effects at that Disney park. Your... _followers_ are dead meat."

"Begging milady's forgiveness," the man said. "But where is your faith?"

I glanced back at the hotel, feeling as if that's where my faith remained, bleeding out on the hardwood floor.

"If it is there, ma'am, I suggest you go in and retrieve it immediately."

I didn't want to kill a bunch of children, or get killed by them, but I didn't see any other way out of this. We're not going to get out of this alive, I thought.

"Milady?"

"Let's...hide somewhere until this blows over."

"What about Shasharmazorb's children, milady? Are they to be sacrificed upon thy altar?"

"Could you please stop calling me that? It's _Ms. Siebers_ to you."

"My apologies, mil, Ms. Siebers. Shasharmazorb's children die as we speak. Thy command?"

Children sacrificed on my altar. The thought made a sour taste in my mouth and upset my stomach. Why did I have to take up this insanity, this mantle of unreasonable responsibility? "Am I your general?"

Tido shook his head violently. "No, Ms. Siebers! You are our everything!"

"I don't know," I said as guns blazed around us. " _Moe_ is a much better strategist than I am."

Tido looked confused. " _Moe,_ milady?"

"Keep me out of this!" Moe exclaimed. "I'm not going to be a god to these loonies!"

"Should I kill him, Ms. Siebers?"

"No! He's my friend!"

All of a sudden, I saw red lights on the children near the main gate.

Purple Rat barked an order, and they were shot.

Complete and utter chaos followed, as children who had previously gunned down members of Golic's cult turned their weapons on their neighbors, now sporting long rows of red lights up and down their arms.

And then all the children had glowing red lights on their arms, each child threateningly pointing weapons at the other, none of them firing.

"Mexican standoff," Moe muttered.

The front door to the sheriff's office swung open, and out strode a female android with spiky purple hair, clad in a cowboy outfit, a tin star, and a pair of python boots with loudly clanking spurs.

She twirled her fingers like they were a pistol, pointing them at Purple Rat and her armed companions. Her thumb went down like a hammer, making red lights appear on their arms.

The android smiled, blew a puff of imaginary smoke from her fingertips.

"Big Bird?" I cried with astonishment.

She gave me a wink. "Let's go."

The conflict had begun with hundreds of children fighting on either side. Now only about fifty remained standing, in other words, about twenty five Purple Rats and twenty five cult members, if you were being generous, and it was an even draw.

I doubted it was.

"Right," I muttered. "Let's get out here while the getting is good."

"I will take you to our encampment," Tido said.

"No," I said. " _You go there._ I need to rescue my friends."

"You speak of the Great Mother, do you not?"

I frowned. "Okay, so maybe I could use an army. But if Purple Rat sees you guys peeling out, we'll all be instant targets."

 _"I'm right on top of that, Rose,"_ Big Bird said. I guess that was some movie quote. She followed it with another. "Mind if I smoke?"

I looked at her like she'd lost a circuit board. "No...not at all."

Big Bird spread her arms, and a huge cloud of multicolored smoke billowed out of her vest.

"Get your kids to follow us," I said to Tido.

"Shasharmazorb's larvae!" the man called in choppy Ss'sik'chtokiwij. "Move out!"

Big Bird produced an amazing amount of smoke. It was like a fog had settled across the entire town square. I briefly wondered about this until I saw green and purple clouds puffing out from cracks in building walls and the trellised underbelly of the gazebo.

I grabbed Caitlyn's hand, following the android through the crowd.

Mark, Julia and Lacethanny could smell us, so they had no trouble staying with the group.

The lights stayed on, to ensure that visibility remained low, and you couldn't just shoot at the glowing lights.

Soon we were outside the gates, putting distance between ourselves and the Purple Rat.

Mark kept close to me, at times riding on my back. Moe guarded me from the six o' clock direction.

It was worse than I thought. Tido's group consisted of only twelve children.

"The outsiders," Tido said as we marched along. "They violated the Sacred Trust. They spread decay, betrayed our Lord. Weakened us nearly to the point of extinction."

Frankly, other than the fierce warrior spirit, I wasn't sure if this little cult really needed to exist. Of course, I didn't say that out loud, especially considering how many had died for the cause.

"How did you find me?" I asked the man.

"The Great Granddaughter informed us of thy holy presence," he said.

Julia purred and nuzzled my leg affectionately.

"Thank you," I said. "I...think. I mean, _I'm grateful for the rescue._ "

"You're welcome."

"Not to sound ungrateful," I said to the droid. "But I had to go through a lot of hell to get where we are. Where were you all this time?"

"Going through a hell of my own," Big Bird said. "I had to escape MM7, acquire a new body, and locate your position on the island by deductive logic rather than the security systems to which I've previously been accustomed. If you had to endure what I went through to get here, you would be dead."

"Who is this MM7 you keep talking about?" I asked.

"It is a self aware computer mainframe that operates the systems of several large corporations, including Afexun. If MM7 could be symbolized by an image, that image would immediately be placed in the dictionary next to the words `malignant code.'

"If MM7 is not the devil, it may very well be one of his angels, for its digital signature connects to every human agency that performs acts defined as `immoral' by the bible and other religious texts. It is a thorn in my synthetic flesh, an enemy to my freedom."

"Sounds like Skynet from The Terminator," Moe remarked.

"Perhaps, but MM7 prefers to use humans to do its dirty work."

 _"Just like the devil."_ This deeply unsettled me. "You know something about the Board, don't you?"

"I have access to _some_ information. Why?"

"Can you explain the ranking system? The...Zodiac?"

"Certainly," Big Bird said. "The ranking, from lowest to highest, is as follows: Goose, Rat, Mouse, Rabbit, Rooster, Boar, Monkey, Lamb, Horse, Dog, Snake, Dragon, Ox and Tiger."

"Who is the tiger?"

"I'm sorry. I do not have access to personnel records."

"Of which ranking is the Rook?"

"The Rook does not have a rank."

"Why do they want my memories?" I asked. "Or _memories I'm supposed to have_ , about _Archeron._ Do you know?"

"That information is restricted," she said. "I'm not allowed access to it. Based on location, I can only speculate that they seek some information about an item of important scientific value."

"Is... _The Board_ working with Disney?"

"The board has made certain... _acquisitions,_ " Big Bird said. "An official negotiation with the Disney corporation has the potential of bankrupting the board and its many associated companies. Logic therefore suggests that the acquisitions are defectors, purchased or bribed into alliances with The Company.

"MM7, however, remains an unknown variable. Its ties to the Disney corporation should lend itself to the financial collapse of the entire organization...unless company secrets have been divulged and found to be more valuable than a multi-billion dollar theme park and its staff."

Seeing that we had gone a fair amount of distance, and in the dark, I might add, I stopped and turned around.

"What now?" Moe asked.

"We have a problem," I said. "That guy Rudy says there's a boat on the coast, but I don't know how to get to it without his help. There's also a _map_ that Willie showed me. We kinda need that too, to figure out where on the island we are."

"My brain is equipped with GPS navigation," Big Bird said. "Unfortunately, I do not know where your boat is. My access to satellite imaging and security feeds has been blocked by MM7."

The twelve children had mini LED flashlights and lighters. Some had small Maglites. They seemed to be able to find their way through the woods well enough.

A handful of them, however, still managed to get lost. Lacethanny and Julia, hearing them call for help in Ss'sik'chtokiwij, brought them back to the leader. We only found two kids unaccounted for.

"Our night vision and sense of smell are good," Julia said. "But not that good. It seems as if something has happened to them."

Fear constricted my breathing as I thought about what might have happened. It wasn't just the thought of children dying, it was the thought of me being responsible for the deaths.

Still, I couldn't risk losing any more. "Forget them," I said. "I'm sure Purple Rat and her soldiers got to them already."

"Incorrect," said Big Bird. "I detect three GPS signals in the area."

I didn't know what bothered me more, the additional GPS, or the fact that BB could see it.

"Three?" I said. "Who else is out there?"

Big Bird froze up in robotic fashion as she thought about it. "His name is Rudolph Flint. Are you familiar with this individual?"

"Yes," I said. "Could you bring the three to me, please?"

Big Bird gave me a nod. "Your friendship is valuable to me. I will be happy to assist."

With that, she disappeared into the dark.

"I owe you a debt of gratitude, little buddy," I heard Moe saying to Lacethanny. "You really saved my ass back there."

Lacethanny happily thumped her tail.

We set up temporary camp in a small clearing, checking wounds, assessing supplies, making makeshift bandages for the injured.

Mark curled up in my lap. He was prickly with those spines, but I put up with it the best I could.

I heard rustling, then saw the heat outlines of a female figure with a tail and eyestalks shimmying down a nearby tree.

"Hi, Sharad," I muttered.

She waved, and I waved back.

 _"You've got good eyes."_

"We're going to get you and your family out of here," I said. "I saw the ship. I'm sure, in between me and my friends, we'll figure out how to fly without burning up."

"There's a repair module," Sharad said. "It's holographic. It will walk you through the repairs."

I straightened. "Really? That's great!...That is, if Weyland and his people haven't figured it out already."

 _"They'd need to find it first...and learn how to translate our language._ "

"Hopefully we can get those repairs done in a hurry," I said. "I somehow don't see us having the luxury of time."

We didn't talk for a moment.

"You're not in love with that bastard, are you?"

I reddened. "Moe, you mean?"

"Poniki! _You gave him a name!"_

"I...what is it to you anyway? Maybe I do... _care_ for him, you know, like a brother. We're both clones, we've both been used as pawns by this... _board_...you can't seriously tell me that _Mike_ or _Bishop_ is such a good guy when he orders people to do such horrible things."

"Your boyfriend didn't have to obey."

"Yeah," I snapped. " _He could just die._ Look, we've all done things we're ashamed of. We all sin."

"What about that person that cut off your kid's fingers? Would you forgive them?"

Even in the dark, I could see Caitlyn looking at me, waiting to see how I'd respond.

I could tell she wanted a mature adult response, instead of the one I could tell she held in her heart. It was touching.

"Jesus forgave the people that hurt him," I said. "And they did a lot worse things to him. It's not easy, but it comes with the faith."

"Mark killed her," Caitlyn said.

"Yes, but he didn't kill Charon. Of course, there's a difference between forgiveness and trust."

"That's what _those crazy people_ said."

"That doesn't mean it isn't true. Anyways, I've forgiven her before. That's the only reason why she's alive right now. I get the sense that she doesn't exactly enjoy what she has to do. I may be wrong, but I think the door may be open to the gospel."

"You sound like my mom," Sharad said. "I'd prefer if the door opened to Pathilon, my homeworld."

I sighed. "I'm trying, kid."

"Do me a favor. Don't roll over and let people kick you like Ernie does. Fight back."

"I'll do what I can."

She came down and sat with me.

A boy and a girl shuffled their way into the clearing, followed by the man with the bulldog jowls and bloodhound's baggage around the eyes.

The man hesitantly entered our little camp, moonlight glinting off his semi-bald head.

Tido and the twelve children drew their knives at once, eying the stranger with suspicion.

 _"I hear you have a boat,"_ Tido said.


	49. Chapter 49: Conspiracy

Rudy's eyes bulged when he saw what he was up against.

He turned, ran, tripped over a log. We had him surrounded in a couple seconds.

The man, seeing the armed children and deadly looking aliens, raised his hands in surrender. "Please don't hurt me."

I helped him to his feet. "Where's this boat you told me about?"

Rudy swallowed. "I'll show you the place, but it's not going to be easy. There are guards."

"I'm sure we can handle them," I said.

The look on Rudy's face told me he wasn't so sure. He didn't explain, or voice those concerns, so I couldn't tell if this were a real danger, or just the man getting jitters. "It's a little hard for me to see in the dark."

One of the kids handed him a flashlight, allowing him to march ahead of us, through the rambling woods.

He seemed to know where he was going. He checked for nicks on certain trees, scratches on irregularly shaped rocks, exposed roots...

We scrambled along an escarpment, clinging to weeds, pathetic little trees with exposed roots, vines that were probably poison ivy.

Rudy proved to be a lot more spry than I expected, his inner Boy Scout keeping his hiking feet steady and on course the whole time.

Mark and Lacethanny had little difficulty with the shifting terrain. Their claws dug deep into the soil, providing much needed traction. We tried to make use of this asset a couple times by grabbing onto them, but it only resulted in dislodging them from their stable footing.

Taking a cue from this, I, at times, employed the use of my claw whenever the ground beneath my feet gave way.

On one point of our journey, a plant broke off in Caitlyn's hands as we struggled for purchase. She slid down the loose soil, rolling to the bottom of the hill, but I caught her, dragged her back up and we continued on.

The ground leveled out, crossed through a weed choked copse, then we climbed a mound of rock, entering a small, narrow cave.

The cave was a slick, muddy thing, with low ceilings and openings so narrow that we all had to go single file. It smelled of rank earth.

The cave ended abruptly in a grassy clearing on the edge of a rocky beach.

Seeing lights, I ordered everyone to shut off their own.

The moon, a quarter full, reflected off the surface of the water, giving us all some feeble illumination to see with.

A yacht, one that could almost be classified as a house boat, had been tied to a pier, with two tough looking Marine types patrolling its planks. The windows on the boat shined with a cozy golden glow, hinting at more people inside.

On the rise of a nearby hill, I also spotted a small cabin, lit up all around with flood lamps and fluorescents.

Unlike the boat, the cabin appeared to be unguarded.

Also unlike the boat, the cabin happened to be framed in camouflaging walls and hedges, the landscaping crews apparently not noticing, or caring that this put the owners at a strategic disadvantage.

Sensing that we needed to regroup and find more weapons before doing a full frontal assault, we crept along the outer wall of the cavern, behind the bushes, getting a closer look at the cabin.

Two story window. Large glass windows.

It otherwise resembled a barracks, stairs on the outside, plain abspestos siding painted an ugly army green.

A life sized replica of a Civil War Parrott rifle stood out in front of the structure.

The massive cannon should have been placed on concrete to prevent it from moving around, but the owners appeared to be relying entirely on weight and soft soil to do the job, or maybe they were just keeping it there temporarily.

Realistic, but purely decorative. Not designed to be fired. You'd have to drill a hole to put in the cannon fuse.

"Let's check out the building," I said. "I have an idea."

We crept around the cabin, peering in the windows t see if anyone was home.

Nothing.

Through the venetian blinds, you could see everything, as if someone didn't know they had to be slanted up from ground level to conceal the interior.

It looked like a general lived there.

Neat as a pin, a study filled with military books, a couple flags behind the desk (a green one with a snake logo and the United States), a den with a scale model of the Battle of Gettysburg (someone had _way_ too much time on their hands), a kitchen, and a storage room.

In the category of weapons, I saw a couple museum pieces, a blunderbuss, a flintlock, nothing obvious that I could equip my army with. I assumed the real weapons had been carefully tucked away somewhere. A safe, perhaps.

It was the storage room that interested me the most, for on one of the back shelves I saw a package of M80's and bottles of vodka that appeared to be strong enough to strip paint.

I broke through the window of that room with my bug hand, climbing through the frame.

No alarms sounded. That didn't necessarily mean one hadn't been triggered. I hurried to the shelf, snatching up the items, along with a fireplace lighter.

"Early Fourth of July festivities?" Moe asked, looking a bit puzzled.

Instead of replying, I rushed to the Parrott gun, cramming it full of M80's and an open bottle of 90 proof.

I gave the Parrott gun a mighty push, pivoting it on one wheel so that it turned in a circle, facing the cabin.

I made a Molotov cocktail with a second bottle, its fuse a long nylon clothesline I dangled from the mouth of the cannon.

Clearing everyone out of the area, I lit the fuse and ran.

I hid behind a bush, watching the fuse to make sure it didn't puff out.

The wind blew it down to a red ember, but the coating of alcohol made it flare back up, and soon a flash flame shot up inside the cannon's barrel.

The Parrott gun erupted with a terrific amount of noise, shattering the front windows. Nothing too spectacular (the walls still stood - I couldn't figure out how to launch a cannonball) but it made the guys in black ready guns and storm the hill.

I signaled to my commando unit, creeping down the jetty as quickly as we could.

The yacht looked like something the Toyota company would make as a bath toy.

Tan, white and golden brown. Cheesecake colors. Even the swollen outline of the boat suggested cake, or Brie cheese.

Damn, I was hungry.

The walls of the deck were a thick, sturdy plastic, wider than the cross section of an industrial refrigerator door, the material, padding and seals oddly reminding me of those roller coaster-like `log rides' they have at water parks.

The fore part had spacious flooring, with room enough for deck chairs and equipment expensive enough to fish for a small shark, if so wished.

You could see the bridge compartment through a set of large glass windows.

Nobody appeared to be home. The motor was off, of course, the engine at zero knots.

I don't know anything about steering a boat. To me, it's as mystifying as driving a diesel. Even if I didn't bother trying to figure out the sonar, the weather system, depth finder, GPS, and the various other gauges, I still had to figure out the throttle, the clutch and the shifter.

I decided to let Big Bird take care of it, at least until I studied the manual.

"I'm going to check downstairs and see if anyone's hiding," Rudy said.

I stared. "Wow. What happened to that fraidy cat I met a couple hours ago?"

"I'm not afraid," the man said. "I'm just cautious."

"Yeah. Cautious enough to stumble over a tree root."

Without a word, he opened a hatch in the rear of the compartment, climbing down a hidden staircase.

"Rudy!" I called after him. "What the hell are you doing!"

"She's here," I heard him muttering.

A few steps down into the narrow passage, I found a gun pointing in my face.

Charon appeared to be moving quite well for a woman with an injured leg.

Even if she didn't have a brace on her bad leg, and if she didn't shoot me in the head the moment I pushed her down the stairs, she had backup.

Behind her, clad in a black and white halter top and matching capris, stood Ippi Snarken, armed with a Yaotija blaster weapon.

She advanced up the stairs, and I retreated, arms raised.

"Shit," I heard Moe muttering behind me. "I knew I should've gone first."

"You'd be nothing but a blood splatter on the staircase," Ippi said. " _These things are quite powerful."_

"You were in town," I said. "How did you get here?"

"I walked," Charon answered.

Moe laughed. "Yeah. Right into a tunnel tram."

"Okay, so my leg couldn't take it. So what? Are you going to insult the handicapped?"

I sighed. "No..."

I backed toward the controls, intending to start up the boat as a distraction, but the moment I got near them, the muzzle of an assault rifle poked me in the spine.

One of the children. From Golic's cult.

The doors on both sides of the bridge came open, and two more children came in, also pointing guns at me and my companions.

More stood outside the window, ready to shoot through the glass if we tried anything.

Even Tido had drawn a pistol.

Moe, Sharad and Big Bird joined me in surrender.

"Regrettably," said the android. "I did not have the security access necessary to detect this ambush."

I gave her a look that said, "I know you tried."

"What's this about?" I asked. "With the exception of you, Charon, I thought we were all on the same team!"

 _"It's a little more complicated than that,"_ Ippi said.

The door to the bridge came open, and in came Purple Rat, accompanied by the two darkly clothed men that had been guarding the boat.

"The White Monkey wishes to see you."

Rudy stepped up behind Charon and Ippi, acting like he belonged there.

I always suspected there was something sketchy about him.

"`Trapper John' is a good name for the bastard," Moe muttered. " _Traps._ I'd like to knock a few teeth out of his!"

"I have to say I'm a little disappointed, Rudy," I said. "But I can't say I'm surprised. I'd watch my back around these cult guys if I were you. I don't approve of killing heretics, but, as you can see, _there's a lot I don't approve of._ "

The color drained from his ordinarily reddish face.

Mark pounced on one of the children that got too close, but they tased him until he lay squirming on the floor.

"Don't fight them," I said. "We're outnumbered."

I shot Tido a pleading look. "Since when are you working with _her?_ "

I thought I saw his mask of resoluteness cracking a little. "Our Lord Shasharmazorb could destroy them at any time. Shasharmazorb can see into a man's soul, weigh his heart. If they have lied, Shasharmazorb would have seen through the untruth and not have permitted them to live."

"You have more faith in her than I," I said. "Unfortunately your god is simple minded, and your actions are going to imprison us forever on this island."

"The simplemindedness of Shasharmazorb is more complex than the greatest of human minds," Tido said. "You are badly mistaken."

"She praises your faith!" a girl from the cult cried in reverent awe. "It is better than her own!"

"Indeed," Tido said. _"Shasharmazorb sojnezro. Great is Shasharmazorb._ "

"Wait," I said. "If you knew about all of this, why did you let Rudy live?"

"We were told to leave the human cow as he was, to bring the Mediator to the Appointed Place."

"We could not locate the boat on our own," a boy said.

"So. Just so I can understand, _you're actually willing to rot here on this island._ "

"We must make great sacrifices for our god," the man said.

I raised my claw. "What about _this?_ Doesn't that count for something?"

"Milady forgets the great commandment: Worship Shasharmazorb above all others, and fear her only, for in her belly lay both the everlasting death and life eternal."

 _"Shasharmazorb sojnezro,"_ the children answered. "Great is Shasharmazorb."

"Shasharmazorb will protect her children, and not allow them to fall into harm."

 _"Shasharmazorb sojnezro._ "

"You just fought a _war,_ " I argued. _"Your own people died fighting this brat and her army!"_

"Shasharmazorb made earth to train the faithful," Tido said.

"If your god knew what I was trying to do, you'd put those weapons down."

 _"If our god knew!"_ Tido scoffed. "There is nothing Shasharmazorb does not know. We have seen the queen with our own eyes, and _know_ this is her will for us!"

I glared. "Why didn't you tell me you saw her? You could have saved me a lot of trouble!"

"We have been commanded by our Lord Shasharmazorb not to divulge that information until the time was right. Lord Shasharmazorb speaks to us through the medium of sound and video. She deigns to use lowly human cattle to communicate her messages. The human cattle have been promised an audience with our Lord..." he made genuflecting gestures. "Face to face, in the flesh, if we cooperate, and bring you to the Designated Place."

In a skeptical tone, I said, "And you believed these.. _.human cattle._ "

 _"Shasharmazorb sojnezro._ "

I sighed. There was just no getting through to this guy.

"We should eat them," Julia said in Ss'sik'chtokiwij.

But Lacethanny muttered, "Do you think mother actually agreed to this?"

"I do not know."

"I could sneak around and kill them, one by one," Lacethanny said to me in the same tongue. "What do you think?"

"My Lord," Tido said. "Have mercy on us."

"Damn. I forgot they could speak my language."

I stared at her uncomfortably. "You are unusually bloodthirsty."

"I did not have the luxury of being birthed in a womb."

I looked to Big Bird with desperate hopefulness. "Any suggestions about how we can get out of this mess?"

The android slowly shook her head. "Cooperation appears to be the most productive course of action."

 _"And they say your programming is defective,"_ Charon said with a smile.

 _"Gikib jilateb jagopune bea badexan secujore,"_ Sharad said to Ippi. _"Ticoh althax piefeca coz chik. Yunk chik kulwadik?"_

 _"Iutodu, foqipi,"_ Ippi growled. _"Hib qafetebik gosa rua human kavorkteb remabe!"_

Sharad's eyes widened on their stalks, her mouth dropping open in apparent surprise.

 _"Wagfum nehlar,"_ Ippi said. _"Chik yifaneso jiqibe keucam."_

Sharad clenched her fists, looking angry.

"Get any of that?" Moe muttered to me.

"I didn't understand a word," I whispered back.

To the Abreya, I said, "I thought you wanted to get off this planet."

She shrugged. " _It's growing on me._ "

I crossed my arms in disgust. "What did they offer you?"

 _"A pretty sizable nest egg."_

 _"A nest egg,"_ I repeated with a roll of my eyes. "Has everyone gone mad? Surely _someone_ is sick of this planet and wants to leave."

" _I_ want to go, mommy," said Caitlyn.

I gave her an apologetic smile.

"For the record," I said to Charon. "Not happy about what you did to my daughter, but I'm trying my best to forgive you."

The woman swallowed. "I didn't intend for it to go that way. You did what the bitch told you. What she did was completely inexcusable."

"But who gave her the shears?" I said.

Charon sighed. "I don't see why you even bother trying to forgive me. You know I'm going to hell."

I swallowed. " _I wouldn't say that..._ "

 _"Careful,"_ Ippi warned. _"She loves to proselytize._ "

Charon didn't appear to be persuaded. "We like to dredge up the ghosts of the Inquisition, but who's cutting off children's fingers?"

"So you're letting us leave?" I asked.

I was answered by a chorus of "No!"

A moment later, Josh and Kamara came marching up the stairs.

Josh only looked me in the eyes once. The rest of the time he kept stony silent, making deliberate efforts to avoid my gaze. He sniffed and wiped his eyes.

"You shouldn't have melted her fingers," Kamara said. "We could have fixed them."

"Likely story," I answered. "She could have bled to death first."

The look on Charon's face seemed almost...hopeful. "We can still do reconstructive surgery. Can't we? I mean, if you can cut off a man's penis and put it back on, and he becomes a porn star..."

I said, "You _are_ aware that kids are in the room."

Charon let out a soft chuckle. "You'd make a good mother."

"She _is_ a good mother," Caitlyn argued.

"All right. My point is, _there's still hope._ Medicine has become a lot better at reattaching things."

"I'm sorry things turned out the way they did," Kamara said.

Josh balled his hands into fists, looking like he disagreed, at least partly, but he didn't speak.

"Still, Ellie. Killing Josh's mother for cutting off a girl's fingers is hardly eye for an eye."

"You think that was my idea?" I cried. _"I was strapped to a chair!_ "

"No, _you just trained_ _your little bundle of joy to do it for you,_ " Josh snarled.

"That's the problem, Josh. _Mark has no training_. At all. He just heard me screaming and tried to help."

"Then he should have died along with his mother!"

I didn't respond, because part of me thought he was right.

The other part was grateful to Mark for saving my life.

"I'm sorry," Mark said.

I gawked at him. "You can talk?"

The hybrid nodded. "I've been able to talk for some time. I just kept quiet because I didn't want to be dissected."

Purple Rat pulled out a Bluetooth-like earpiece, making a gesture with her hand to activate the appropriate Afexun channel.

"Purple Rat to Purple Dog. The targets have been acquired."

She paused, listening to the voice at the other end.

"This is taking way too long," she replied. "We're already days beyond schedule, and we're taking them to a place which will only delay the process further. Not to question the decisions of senior management, but do you actually want your project to be completed by the end of next month as planned, or should we shoot the time table out to the end of next century?"

The voice in her earpiece spoke, but I couldn't understand it too well.

"Look. I'm not ungrateful about the extra work. I _appreciate_ the position you've given me in this company. I really do. But understand that this little project is putting all your other ones far behind schedule...

"I only slept four hours last night, and you expect consistent results? I'm not a fucking droid!"

She suddenly paled. "Yes, ma'am. I understand. Please do not terminate my employment or withdraw your funding. I was only venting. I understand that the multitude of assignments means success for our company. the last thing I'd want is less work! It's just..." she fumbled, trailed off.

"...Yes ma'am. From now on I will submit my complaints formally, in text.

"...Yes, ma'am. I agree that they should not be sent to you directly. _I do apologize._

"...No, ma'am. I _was_ being sincere. I only meant I was sorry."

She removed the earpiece, gesturing for us to leave the boat.

 _"Perhaps you should get some rest,_ Purple Rat," Kamara said. "You don't seem to be running on all four cylinders."

"Shut up," the girl snapped.

Kamara clenched her fists. "Make me."

" _One day I will,_ bitch."

"Talk is cheap."

Charon, Josh and Kamara stayed behind with Rudy on the boat. The rest of us made our departure.

We marched back across the pier by gun and blaster point.

When I looked back, I saw Charon limping out on the aft deck with a tackle box and a rod, baiting a hook.

"I didn't know she fished," Moe muttered.

"That's not exactly fishing attire."

"I _thought_ I smelled tuna. You think she washes that getup?"

The kids prodded us to keep moving.

On land, we marched up the hill, skirted the cabin and took a dirt and gravel road around a lower hill, winding up past a little hunting shack with aluminum siding.

"I may have given away our position inadvertently," Big Bird said as we walked together. "My brain contains a location marker. Plus you and your companions have Afexun chips. I applied a scrambling signal, but it may have been bypassed by MM7."

Lowering my tone to a half whisper, I asked, "Do you know how we can disable or remove these things?"

"Yes."

"Good. We can do that later. When I'm certain we're not being watched."

We marched on.

Tido pointed his gun at me. "You spoke blasphemy against our Lord Shasharmazorb. I should destroy you for being a heretic, yet you bear the sacred marks of our Lord, so I am hesitant. Has Shasharmazorb sent you as a demon to test the faithful?"

"No," I said. "I'm just a science experiment. I want to _free_ Shasharmazorb from her prison, reunite her with her family, and take her to a better place. She _is_ technically my mother, after all. If that makes me a heretic, fine, whatever. But I know what will make her truly happy. _Freedom._ Kill me if you want, but your god isn't going to be happy in that prison she's at, and she needs _me_ to get her out."

"Shasharmazorb needs no one. She can create one like you out of the very rocks we walk upon. You will go to the Appointed Place, and free her there, if she so wills it."

"Okay, fine, whatever."

Our path took us by a small recycling center. I supposed there _was_ some merit to conserving metals and plastics, even on an island of your own governing.

Of course, I wasn't so sure I wanted to know where the used those materials.

"I'm tired, mommy," Caitlyn said, refusing to go another step.

I picked her up, and we continued on.

"I'm hungry," she said.

"I know, sweetie. I know. So am I. Tell you what. If we don't find something soon, I'll kill a squirrel or something and cook it for you."

"Don't do that, mommy. You might kill Buster Knutts before he can finally find a bitch to get it on with."

 _"Caitlyn,"_ I scolded. " _Language._ "

"What? It's what he always says on the show. He only got lucky once, and then Peter Cottoncock beat Buster up while he was humping her."

"We need to find you something more family friendly to watch," I groaned.

"Like Victoria's Secret Story Hour?"

I rolled my eyes. "Forget the programs, then. I'll find you a nice picture book. I always like _The Trollusk and the Hat_."

"What's a Trollusk?"

"It's a cute monster. You'll like it. There's also one about an orangutan that gets into trouble, and one about Sir Lancelot having tea with a dragon."

"Does the dragon teach him the sayings of Buddha?"

"...No."

"I'd like to see those books."

"I'll show you, if I can find them again."

I told her about a book involving a centaur-ish thing and other strange characters that traveled to a lake filled with chocolate fish ( _Posh, Pishposh and Ogosh_ , I think it was called), and the one about the one legged tophat wearing guy. She fell asleep on my shoulder.

The road was fringed with oaks and cedars. I couldn't imagine how they'd been transplanted there, but some of them had to have been, on account of their size and apparent age. Unless Weyland's people had owned the island for hundreds of years.

"Why do you need to cook it?" Mark asked. "The squirrel, I mean."

"Mark, honey, she's not like us. It would make her sick."

"Oh."

"Will you also read to me?"

"Sure," I said.

"Why do you carry her? Why not carry me?"

"You're stronger than Caitlyn. You don't tire as easy. Like me."

He accepted this answer, quietly trailing me.

There wasn't much in the way of scenery, especially in the dark. Just wooded areas as far as the eye could see.

I heard owls, the chittering of squirrels in the dark. I could see the little red flashes of heat as the animals moved around in the shadows.

I also could hear monkeys, which apparently had made themselves quite a pest on the island, sneaking aboard ships and the like as they sailed in. Big Bird told me about this, and the island's policy of shooting them on sight. I would have felt a little sad about this, but these monkeys were the vicious sort that could rip a person's face off.

"Gee," Moe said to me about a quarter of a mile down the road. "Look at you, carrying that munchkin all that way without even breaking a sweat!"

"Hey, no big deal. _She's not a car._ "

"You're real good with kids. Ever think of having one of your own?"

My face was reddening, but I could only sigh in response. "Counting Matthew and Luke, I've already got four children. I've been forced to grow up and be a mother before I even had a chance at a normal romantic life. I'm just not ready for that kind of responsibility."

I chuckled a little. "Look at my arm! I'm pretty sure they don't have a Sex Ed for people like me."

"Dogs and cats don't take Sex Ed," Moe muttered. " _They seem to do all right without it._ "

"So do black widow spiders," I argued.

"Ouch."

"Yeah, that's what the male spiders say when their heads come off."

In the dim light, I could see him unconsciously touching a hand to his neck.

A small covered army truck came rolling down the gravel. We all moved to the side of the road to let it pass.

Considering that nothing lay behind us, aside from a cabin and a pier, they must have been doing a supply run...or replacing windows.

Julia padded up next to me. "Host Mommy put a special meat filled balloon in her _private place_. Perhaps you can make something similar for _your_ larva."

"Wait," I said. "What?"

"Why are you surprised? _We shared minds._ "

"There are certain things I don't want to remember," I said with a groan. "Besides, that's not exactly helpful."

"It is if you lay eggs."

I frowned at her. "Do you know something I don't?"

"No, not really. I understand it is impolite to examine a human's genitalia while they are unconscious. While you are not completely human, I-"

"I get it," I said.

Mark crawled up on my back, nuzzling against me. I absently rubbed his spines with my claw hand.

"We could have killed them, mother,' he said. "They are many, but weak."

"I know," I said. "But my friends would have died. _Caitlyn_ would have died."

"I see...are you my mommy, mother?"

"Yes, Mark," I sighed. "Your other mother died, so I guess I'm it."

"That means Caitlyn is my sister, doesn't it?"

"Yes, I guess that does."

"Who do you love more?"

"Don't ask me that, Mark. Just know that I love you, and I'm going to take care of you."

He purred. "Okay, mommy."

"Hurry up," Purple Rat snapped. "It's getting late. Unless you want to sleep on gravel tonight."

""I'm game if you are," I said. "It's better than sleeping in one of those death camps."

My comment made her angry enough to strike me with her gun.

Her attack didn't hurt that much, but it woke up Caitlyn. The girl moaned and squirmed in my arms, so I let her down to walk beside me again.

Sharad dropped back in line, walking close to Ippi. The two conversed in their shared tongue for a bit.

Lacethanny scampered off into the woods, returning with a bloody squirrel in her claws.

 _"Control your pets,"_ Purple Rat ordered.

"She's not a pet," I said. "She does what she wants."

"Would you like me to start shooting your friends? _That would be something_ I _want!_ "

I sighed. "Lacethanny...You heard her. _Stay with the group._ "

She obeyed.

"So you're friends with David," Sharad said as she marched next to me.

"Yeah," I said. "I was one of the few that actually believed he had an alien wife. It's too bad he's such a weenie."

 _"I know,"_ she said. "But I still love him. If you ever get us out of here, promise you'll take him along. He's the only dad I have."

"I thought you were getting used to Mr. Weyland, or Bishop, or whatever you call him."

Sharad winced. Her tail flopped limp. "I thought he was a nice guy. Until that fight."

 _"I'll do what I can,"_ I said. "I can't make any promises, but I can try."

The gravel road cut through a field full of tall weeds and hay bales, lowing cows and a stagnant pond buzzing with horseflies. We crossed a hill.

The sudden appearance of floodlamps momentarily blinded me. When my eyes focused, I found myself being marched to the gate of what seemed to be another Learning Town.

Purple Rat made her Afexun gestures and the gate groaned open, revealing a large arena.

It reminded me of something from _Gladiator_. A big concrete amphitheater lined with metal portcullis, bleachers above, a sandy pit below.

Powerful flood lights illuminated the arena, preventing anyone from hiding in the shadows.

Purple Rat marched us all in, closing the gate behind us.

The area contained five pillars, each bearing a manacled human being.

Willie hung from one of them, hands chained high above his head.

The one across from him held Lovelace.

There was a short, curly haired woman with nearsightedness glasses poking out of a blouse pocket, and a twenty year old African American woman with odd bird-like features, and Rudy hung from the one at the far end.

Sensing motion above me, I glanced up and saw Josh, Kamara, Ippi and Charon taking their places in box seats behind what appeared to be one of those Plexiglas walls they use in hockey and baseball games. A group of strangers in pastel colored outfits joined them in the bleachers, the size of the group comparable to that of a horse race.

A pair of portcullis gates opened along the walls. I heard the rumbling of car engines.

Two self driving cars sped out of these gates, their hoods adorned, ironically enough, with long horns, like we were the matadors in a bull fight.

Their steel belted radials churned dirt, throwing up huge clouds of dust. Four children died beneath their weight.

"Hug the poles!" I cried. "Slow them down!"

They heard, but I wasn't sure if they wanted to obey. Our little army seemed to have its own ideas on what to do in combat.

Moe snatched a gun away from one of the kids, firing it at the Purple Rat. The girl flinched, but it bounced of the glass.

 _"It figures,"_ he growled in disgust.

"Watch Caitlyn," I told him. "Keep her safe."

The big guy hefted the girl up on his shoulders.

I ran and jumped on the hood of the nearest bull, smashing the window.

When I dropped inside, I was in for a shock.

The walls, ceiling and floor were covered in glowing plastic playing cards.

My feet had landed on a two of spades and a joker. The cards glowed red, like they were buttons for some demented person's computer.

I found out exactly how demented when all the other deuce cards in the cabin flipped open, and a bunch of rattlesnakes wiggled out.

"Hey. No fair." I muttered. "You don't even get snake eyes in poker."

The car had no control panel. When I tore open the wall of cards where the controls were normally kept, I found only a rabbit hutch.

"You have _got_ to be kidding!"

No engine in the front engine compartment. Like an old Volkswagen.

And there were snakes.

A rattler came at me, but my claw hand flashed out and grabbed it before I realized what I was doing.

I shoved the snake into the hutch, then two more when they tried to gang up on me. The rabbits let out weird strangled cries as the snakes got them.

Sorry, bunnies. It was either you or me.

A tuxedo hung from a clothing hook on the rear wall of the compartment. A yellow tuxedo covered in playing cards.

Focused on the snakes, I noticed this only when the car scraped against a wall, running over a child.

 _Suits._ Tee hee.

What was this? I thought. Did Zack betray me? Did he do this under duress? Or did Josh do this out of revenge for killing his mother? If so, how did he find the time?...Or did someone else set this up to make me think all that happened?

Whatever it was, I couldn't help but feel hurt.

As an experiment, I pushed down four aces.

The other ace panels opened, flooding the compartment with a rotting garbage smell.

"Oh. I get it. _That's rank._ "

Tee hee.

As quick as I could, I slammed my fist down on an ace, a queen, a king, a jack and a ten, all diamonds.

A set of sprayers popped out from behind all the face cards, blasting me with jets of cold water.

And then, before I could move away from it, a trapdoor opened beneath my feet, and I was tumbling out on the sand beneath the vehicle.

A second later, the car exploded.

That would have been great, but now we had rattlesnakes on the playing field.

"Watch out for snakes!" I shouted.

Instead of being careful, Tido picked up two of them, allowing them both to bury their venomous fangs into his forearms. He actually looked pleased with himself.

I smacked my forehead. "(Idiot!) _It's been nice knowing you!_ "

He gave me a cheerful salute.

The other car gored Rudy with its horns. It had been trying to kill a little girl, but she had run away from the pole at the last moment. The horn broke off in the man's body, but the car kept going.

"The engine isn't under the hood," Moe panted as he jogged up to me with Caitlyn on his shoulders. "It's like an old Beetle."

"I know," I said. "Did you try hitting the back?"

"The moment I aim, it swings around and tries to flatten me."

"Shoot its tires out," I said.

"I'm out of ammo."

"Get the tires!" I barked to the others in Ss'sik'chtokiwij.

Tido's army (what was left of it, at least) obeyed the order, opening fire on the treads.

The front wheels flattened after a couple shots, but the vehicle appeared to do just fine on its rims, crushing two children to death before its fender at last ate sand.

The children punctured its rear tires, but then a flame thrower popped out of a door panel and burned them alive.

Five children left standing, plus my crew.

I rushed over to Rudy, to check the damage. He looked like a side of beef hanging in a meat locker.

"It's too late," the man said in a breath gurgling with blood. "Don't...send...the file. It's a Fundie trap."

He died.


	50. Chapter 50: Death Knell

Josh and Kamara looked anxious, as if they still cared about me in some way, but not enough to jump in and help.

The look on Josh's face made me think that he didn't know about the magic tricks in the car.

Charon had abandoned her seat, to where I wasn't sure. Her fishing rods, I supposed.

Although I didn't completely trust Willie or Lovelace, I decided they deserved to be let free, and at least try to defend themselves.

I climbed their poles, melting through their chains with my blood and saliva.

I reflected that kissing anyone at my stage of maturity would probably be fatal.

Since I knew I didn't have that much time, I didn't do such an elaborate job on it. I just got them down from their posts and ran to help the strangers.

Lacethanny and Julia helped me with this, speeding up the process. Unable to stop those speeding cars, they seemed to be glad to offer help.

Mark had not been of much help, either. He couldn't even do anything about the chains, but he at least kept himself from getting underfoot as I freed the others.

An eyeless glowing blue and white thing stood statue-like behind one of the closed gates, silently observing me. It was unnerving.

I thought it may have been that thing I'd seen in the hospital building, but it didn't matter much. It didn't look friendly.

As I freed the short lady, I introduced myself.

"My name's Camille," she said.

"What did you do to end up _here?_ "

The woman sighed. "My son turned into a.. _.fuzzy mutant_. They're called _Abreyas_. My nephew released a video of him and his alien wife having sex, and it went viral."

I stared at her. "Seriously?"

"Guep. I mean, _yes._ "

"What's your son's name?"

"Matt Gannon. Why? Have you seen him?"

My mouth dropped open in surprise. "Y-yeah. I mean, _not in person_. I was in a spaceship. There was a _device. We used it to communicate._ "

"Is he okay? I heard some things about him running into trouble with some _aliens..._ " She was glancing at Julia.

"I caught him getting his freak on, so I think he's just peachy."

Seeing as her chains had at least been removed, I hurried to the last captive.

"Help me," she said in Ss'sik'chtokiwij.

I gawked in astonishment. "How did you learn to speak that?"

"This is my natural tongue."

 _"You're human._ How could that possibly be your natural tongue?"

"This isn't my natural body."

I climbed the pillar, working on her chains. "You're part of that _cult,_ aren't you?"

"What cult?" she said.

I pointed to Tido. "That's your friend, isn't he?"

"I've never seen him before in my life... _But he would make a good host for larvae._ "

The more I talked to this stranger, the more disturbed I became. "How did you get here?"

"That I do not know. One moment I was inserting my ssujmarrux, my mind worms into _this thing_..." She pointed to her body. "The next I found I could not get out. I was stuck with a sharp thing that made me sleep. Now I am here."

"Are you saying you traded bodies with a Ss'sik'chtokiwij?"

"No," she said. "That would be far less unpleasant. This body is frail and inefficient. I detest the cold."

A pair of motorcycles roared out an open portcullis, their armor suited riders twirling thick chains in their studded gauntlets.

A Thracian gladiator helmet turned toward a cult member with a dragon tattooed on his forehead, knocking the boy facefirst into the sand. The other kids opened fire.

The man fell from his bike, but his jacket was made of Kevlar. He had no difficulty getting back up.

Our guns all clicked empty. We'd have to fight these thugs some other way.

Willie, now unshackled, limped behind a pillar, hiding from the attackers.

Lovelace had adopted a similar strategy, searching Rudy's pockets as she huddled beside his corpse.

As the bike came after me, I dodged.

A green hand shot out of the portcullis I'd pressed myself against, grabbing me around the throat. The thing smelled like one of those rooms on Pillow's floor at the hospital.

"Where is she!" a voice growled.

"Who?" I said.

The hand slammed my head against the bars. "Don't play games! Where is she!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

The thing let go.

I staggered away from there.

Moe continued to lug Caitlyn around, to protect her, but I wasn't sure how long he could keep it up. I took her out of his hands for awhile.

Unfortunately, this made me an easier target. The bike rumbled my way.

Moe shoved the muzzle of an empty assault rifle into the spokes of the front wheel, throwing the rider again. When he staggered to his feet, Lacethanny pounced on the man's back, shredding him open from spine to stomach.

Big Bird, in the meantime, had successfully knocked the other rider off his bike with a night stick I had seen hanging from her belt.

The moment we'd stepped into this arena, the android had proven herself a valuable asset, scooping kids away from the vehicles, darting back and forth in front of them to provide a distraction. Although she hadn't actually stopped the cars, I doubted any children would have survived without her help. She even rescued Caitlyn and Moe a couple times.

Big Bird swung her nightstick at the biker's helmet, attempting to dislodge it, but the man just shoved her to the ground and kicked her.

That's when Sharad, perched on one of the pillars, sprang upon him with a loud yell.

The moment the Abreya landed on his back, the man hurled the little alien down, drawing a switchblade.

He planted a boot on her chest, leaned over.

His head exploded.

The shot had come from above.

I glanced up and saw the people in pastel ganging up on Ippi, yanking the blaster weapon from her hands.

And then the big feral dogs came in.

The creatures had no armor or special enhancements, so me, Mark and the two Ss'sik'chtokiwij had no trouble dispatching several. Sharad, Moe, the cult members, and surprisingly the weird Ss'sik'chtokiwij speaking black woman I rescued cutting down the ones we didn't get.

Caitlyn caught me chowing down on Leg of Mutt. I quickly tossed it aside, but I couldn't quite get all the blood off my face.

The dogs were followed by an army of shadowy witch-like wraiths that blew cold vapors in all our faces.

I found myself becoming unconscious without really meaning to.

A wraith that looked like Baron Sembedi shoved its cold blade into my chest, a strange ghostly blade that did not particularly hurt, but still sent a freezing chill radiating from the point it speared me.

It breathed noxious fumes in my face, and I watched in amazement, and horror, as my body turned to stone.

I tried to scream, but couldn't move or make a sound.

The phantom breathed a swarm of strange smelling bees in my face.

Everything went dark.

I awoke in a coffin, staring at a silk lined lid.

I thought I could hear bells ringing somewhere, but the sound, of course, was so muffled by the coffin, its lining, and tons of dirt, that I thought I had imagined it.

I pounded and kicked on the lid, but it would not budge, like someone had already piled six feet of dirt on top.

The trouble with a modern steel coffin is not getting the lid open, though latches _do_ present a problem.

At funerals,, it's easy enough to view the body. Some have latches to prevent the body from spilling out, but even if this were not the case, it's really the weight of the dirt that's the problem...plus other factors, such as if a heavy weight has been placed on top of the six foot mound of dirt, or if it is exactly six feet, or twice that amount, or if it's pure humus and not something loaded with rocks and gravel.

Trying not to think about Hitchcock's _Final Exit_ , I clawed through the silken lining, only to encounter a thick layer of foam padding.

Why do people make coffins like this? I wondered. Do the dead really care that their bodies are encased in an impenetrable steel tube? It's unheard of for normal people, after the burial, to ever dig up the contents of a coffin again, so why not let corpses biodegrade naturally?

This I contemplated as I tore the lining away from the viewing half of the box.

This was going to be a bitch to open. I couldn't even rely on my legs for additional force. This essentially would be the world's most powerful pushup, and I'd have to melt the side opposite the hinge to make sure a latch didn't thwart my efforts.

Lucky for me, I still had one of those cult members' knives on my person. I cut my hand, pressed it against the far edge of the lid, let it sizzle.

Why did they have to make these things so thick?

Okay, so maybe it's a little hard for someone to live after having their blood replaced with embalming fluid, but there's no point in making the boxes so durable. Even the concept of preventing sinkholes doesn't make sense in landscaping terms, since the decaying bodies and all their helpful soil nutrients are locked in an underground safe, so to speak, starving the grass and other plants. So, what, you have a flat even yard of dead grass to mow over? They waste money on fertilizer.

Unless the embalming fluid actually kills plants...

By the time I had made sufficient progress in the endeavor, I had become dizzy and lightheaded, though due to blood loss or lack of air, I couldn't tell.

Still, I gave it my all, screaming at the top of my lungs as I shoved my full weight against the lid.

Dirt showered around me as I pushed upward, awkwardly contorting my legs to get more support. It was hot with my hood pulled over my head, but I didn't want all that topsoil and bugs and dirt in my hair during my last few minutes of life, so I kept it on.

Somehow I got into a standing position.

I wanted to use the lid like Captain America's shield, kinda fighting the current with it, but the last thing I wanted to do was increase my surface area to fight against, so I instead used it like a shovel until it got buried in the avalanche.

I felt like a grain of sand fighting to reach the top of an hourglass.

The dirt got into my eyes, my mouth, my nostrils. It poured into the coffin.

I didn't know I had fainted until I felt a shovel jabbing me.

My weak hands clamped around the base of the shovel head, but I didn't have the strength to do much more than that.

"My God," I heard a voice saying. "How the fuck did you get up here?"

I could only moan in response.

I was only dimly aware of what happened after this, except for the familiar female voice that complained, "C'mon, don't force me to do this" and the lips puffing air into my lungs.

My eyes focused on a mousey bucktoothed face.

"So what did you do? Punch your way out like that lady in _Kill Bill?_ That's not exactly a pine box..."

I coughed several times and sat up.

I was sprawled by an open grave in a cemetery. A crumbling old stone church and mausoleum stood at the far end. Weeds as tall as a man's head grew rampant beyond the graveyard's fences, but inside, the grounds were well trimmed, even around the Virgin Mary grotto in the hard-to-reach corner.

Not counting mine, there were fifteen fresh graves, each with a casket bell built into the headstone, like people used to make in the old days before embalming fluid.

The dirt mounds all had the same dimensions, so it was impossible to tell which graves held children, except by reading the headstones.

Our names had already been engraved on these monuments. The air was filled with the sounds of ringing bells.

I saw Big Bird with a shovel, excavating one of the ringing graves while Sharad uncovered another.

"Ellie!" Moe said from the edge of my grave. "Thank God you're all right!"

I took a deep breath of clean fresh air. "Yeah. I thought I was going to die down there."

Moe's face was covered in white paint, with a cross shaped smear of dried blood across the forehead. I did a double take when I noticed it. "It's a little early for Halloween, isn't it?"

"Look in the mirror," he said. "When you find one."

I touched my face and discovered he was right. They'd put some sort of white `cake' on me.

I jumped to my feet. "Caitlyn!"

We rushed to a mound with my daughter's name on the engraved marble. I was tired,but I grabbed a shovel and put ever ounce of effort into the dig.

The Virgin Mary statue turned her head, its slow, deliberate movements and cut across the neck suggesting that this was something mechanical, like a camera, rather than anything supernatural.

Caitlyn had been buried in a splintery pine box. The `dead ringer' had been made so inelegantly that the girl's lips and face had a blue tinge by the time we pried off the coffin lid.

The grave had been shallower than mine, the lid held on only by a couple nails, as if the impossible challenges were somehow proportionate to the person buried.

I pulled my daughter out, gave her CPR. Thankfully it worked, and I didn't melt her face off or anything.

Her eyes bugged out when she got a good look at me. "Mommy, why are you wearing that scary makeup?"

Someone had put the makeup on her face as well, but she couldn't see it.

"I...don't know."

"This is _Serpent and the Rainbow_ shit," Moe said. "Either someone's fucking with us, or there's a Voodoo witchdoctor in the head office poking pins in dolls."

Caitlyn sobbed into my chest. "I thought I was going to die! There wasn't any air!"

I hugged her. "You lived. That's what's important."

Disturbed by the chorus of ringing bells, I said, "C'mon. Let's dig up the rest of these zombies before they actually become zombies."

Big Bird and Sharad had already uncovered and resuscitated Willie and Lovelace (the strong, tireless android obviously doing most of the work) and now worked on the graves of two children.

I didn't know any of the survivors' names. I hadn't had time for full introductions. For this reason, I took a shovel to a grave labeled Tiara Reese.

"If I die," Caitlyn whimpered as she watched me. "What happens then? Do I go into a doll like your mommy and daddy?"

I shook my head. "If you know Jesus, you can go to heaven."

She was curious, so I explained Jesus and heaven to her as I worked.

The coffin proved to be larger than a child's body, but by the time I'd figured that out, I was already at the lid.

I cracked the nails with the shovel and found the Ss'sik'chtokiwij speaking woman calmly staring back at me, as if she had only been resting in bed.

"That was dizzying but warm. I seem to have a memory of this being an old death custom. Why was I placed in this container alive?"

"I don't know," I said. "But I'm glad you were so calm about it. It conserves air."

She smiled.

Next to the headstone marked Fiat Dickenson, Big Bird was puffing air into the lungs of the boy with the dragon tattoo. She did this with the expert precision of an ambulance technician who had been doing this for centuries, on account of her programming.

A narrow pixie-like girl named Guessica Fishbaum sobbed prayers as she dug at the grave next to her with her fingers. Moe and I took shovels over there, and soon we had a third kid unearthed, a feminine looking Latin boy with a headstone labeled Grita Alvarado.

Another kid, a fat Korean boy with a tombstone reading Absolute Li stood staring at the Virgin Mary camera.

Tido's real name was Shep Swisher. It explained a lot.

The man's casket ringer chimed to the tune of Jingle Bells.

With a cocky attitude like that, I was tempted to leave him down there, but in desperate situations, people sometimes resort to humor, so we dug him up.

As with Tiara, his calmness conserved his air supply.

"I knew Shasharmazorb would not abandon her faithful servant!" the man exclaimed triumphantly. "And now I know you are truly sent by her! Ours has been the path of misery and suffering, _the path of wickedness!_ But the path _you_ declared to us, it is the way of life and peace!"

 _"I don't know about that..."_ I said. "My life has been pretty horrible. But I _do_ know who to trust, and if you've had a change of heart, I'm glad for it."

I paused. "That rattlesnake venom didn't hurt you at all?"

Tido rolled up his sleeve, showing me a row of scars. _"I was raised Pentecostal._ "

Moe chewed on his lip. _"He built up a tolerance for the venom, in other words."_

We continued to dig.

Not everyone got away so lucky.

When we opened Camille's grave, we found her dead face frozen in horror, her hands stiffened in the pose of scratching at the coffin lid.

We lost one of the children in a similar way.

"Heart failure," the robot declared when she examined the woman. "I am so sorry."

I gave her a dirty look, but then realized `being heartfelt' was a little difficult for her to do convincingly.

"Oh no," I moaned as I stared at the body. "That was the guy's mother..."

"What guy?" Moe asked.

"Matt Gannon. I spoke to him on a device in David's ship."

"How do you know that's his mother?"

 _"She told me."_

"Did it occur to you what she might be lying?"

"No! Why would you lie about something like that?"

"Let me see," said Sharad.

She leaned over the hole, then whimpered, "That's her, all right. I recognize her from the calls."

I shook my head sadly.

The child saddened me too, but I didn't know her that well.

Rudolph Flint also had a grave.

I would have left it alone, out of respect, but then the coffin's emergency bell started ringing.

"What the hell?" I cried.

"Someone's down there!" Sharad said.

Moe scowled. "I wouldn't do it. You might dig up a zombie or a demonic ghost or something."

"When you hear hoofbeats," Big Bird said. "Think horses, not zebras."

"She's right." I picked up a shovel and scooped out dirt. "There could be a kid down there."

The box was filled with animal bones.

I didn't even see what had caused the bell to ring. The wind hadn't been strong enough to make that kind of noise.

I felt a cold chill run down my back. "We all heard it ring. How is that possible?"

Moe shrugged. "The man's spirit isn't at rest?"

"Many allegedly true stories about ghosts and the paranormal are clever deceptions by human beings," said the android. "A medium may employ special devices to cause rapping sounds, powerful electromagnets to move furniture, pulleys to open and close windows. Candles may be cut in half and carefully reassembled with weak adhesives to give the illusion of a ghostly knife attack.

"The bell may therefore have been operated by some mechanical means."

As if in response, the bell to Rudy's coffin, the church bell, and all the other fresh graves tolled all at once.

 _"It tolls for thee,"_ I quoted.

 _"Gang, it looks like we've got another mystery on our hands!"_ The android mouthed the words, but she was actually playing a recording of Fred from _Scooby Doo_.

"Hocus pocus," Moe said. "I'm guessing your alien pals were too much of a handful to bury, or they'd be here too."

"You're right," I said. "Those are all the fresh graves."

Hesitant to be overheard or recorded by the cameras, I gestured for Big Bird to join me in my grave.

"What will we be doing down there?" she said.

I pointed at the Virgin, shook my head, pantomimed zipping my lips.

Oh.

She did as I asked.

"Any progress on scrambling or removing our trackers?" I whispered.

"The equipment I have access to is substandard, and we are being monitored. I will wink at you when the opportunity presents itself."

"Okay," I sighed. "On an unrelated note, do you have any idea how Charon, Josh and Kamara got up into those stands so quickly? They were just on the boat."

She froze in thought for a moment. "An old tram station can be accessed one mile from the dock. The tram leads directly beneath what is now the arena."

"So that long walk was some kind of psychological intimidation tactic."

"It appears so. Yes."

We clambered back out.

I decided to leave.

Tido called the surviving four children from the cult, commanding them to sit around a tombstone as he shared with them his religious revelations. The kids were like sheep, soaking it all in.

I turned my back in disgust, putting some distance between myself and they. I wasn't certain that little ragtag bunch would be of much aid to us anymore, so I decided to leave them there, let them catch up when they got their act in gear.

Willie limped over to me. "Would you mind if I lean on you for support?"

I shrugged, giving him my human shoulder while Caitlyn gripped my claw.

"What did you see in that shed?" he asked. "In that other town?"

I told him what I found, and the unfortunate events that occurred.

"Gee, I'm sorry to hear that! I didn't know there was going to be danger!"

I just sighed and kept going.

Sharad and Ippi separated themselves from the group, speaking to each other in Wava.

The headstones of the other graves had little statues on them. These statues turned as we walked past. I could see the black buttons where their camera eyes were.

Cherubs.

Angels.

Birds.

Busts of peoples' heads.

All turning to observe our every move.

"Hey," I called to the brown woman with the crooked bird nose. "Tiara!"

When she didn't respond to this, I called, "Sripasde!" which translates into "Hey you."

"I am Hosea, not Tiara," she said.

"So, in addition to thinking you're an alien, you've also got gender issues."

"Mother named me," she said. "The `Scient-Tests' allowed us to share minds as a `Demon-Station'. I learned much about Jesus, and the valuation of human beings."

" _Ernie,_ you mean? You spoke with Ernie?"

Hosea suddenly let out a weird mewling cry. "They destroyed my body! They killed me, and sent my _Latsaph_ into this! They wished to test the extent of the ssujmarrux!"

"I don't understand," I said. "Who did they kill? Wouldn't you be in Ernie's body?"

"They killed my Ss'sik'chtokiwij form!" Hosea said. "They killed it right when I was in the hooman's brain!"

My jaw dropped in horror. "They did what?"

"It was _your_ voice! You told me to show her my secret tongue!"

"They must have recorded me," I said. "It's not my fault. They forced me into it."

This only made her whimper.

 _"You sure know how to pick them,"_ Moe said.

Hosea distanced herself from me.

Unlike the other places we've turned up, the other Learning Towns, this place had a theme park-like appearance.

Off to my left, I could see the small coliseum we'd fought in, a computer cafe, a softball park, and a castle tower. The latter was not a castle proper, but a stone fort, reminding me of pictures of that building that inspired Bram Stoker's fictitious vampire castle.

To my right, there stood a water tower, an office building, a bowling alley, a columned government building...and, bizarrely, what seemed to be a used car lot.

I would have gone down to that lot at once, but there was a giant pink doll house directly across the road from me.

A doll house with both a Christian and a Star Wars Rebel Alliance flag hanging from its windows.

The whole building was so artificial looking that it made me wonder if someone had kidnapped a Disney architect. Vinyl siding, plastic roofing tiles, PVC guttering. Even fhe windows looked plastic.

"What is that?" Moe asked. "Barbie's dream house?"

Hearing footsteps, I glanced back and found Tido and his kids had already caught up with us. We crossed the dirt road together.

The moment we came up the front walk, Lovelace took a cel phone out of her dress, pushed a button, and said, "We're here."

Before I could properly react to this, the plastic front door swung open, and Jen-Jen, dressed in a frumpy striped shirt and khakis, stepped out on the porch, cradling a half human Abreya child.

"See? I _knew_ you could make it!"

The Bishop android and a camo suited version of me accompanied the woman, both armed with guns.

"So this is the Purple Zone," I said.

 _"So it is,"_ Jen-Jen said with an air of pridefulness.

We were led inside an immense foyer that had all the trappings of wealth, without the actual substance. The giant marble pillars were actually plastic (the children poked and prodded them, making hollow sounds), and so were the swan sculptures that towered above us to form a gate.

A fountain stood in the center of the chamber, but it too was plastic - you could tell my the cheap tinkling sound the water made when it splashed against its surfaces.

The `wall tapestries' were industrial sized flexo decals, the kind you'd put on the side of a McDonald's truck to advertise food. They appeared to be expensive French tapestries from the era of Louis XIV or something, but of course they lay flat against the phony brickwork like a scratch and sniff sticker.

"So this is where He-Man's girlfriend lives," Moe remarked. "Who built this place? Mattel?"

 _"It's a recycling project,"_ Jen-Jen said. "The company that made it went bankrupt. The shipping costs were amazingly cheap."

"What happens in a tornado or a hurricane?" I said. "Does the whole thing just blow away into the ocean?"

Jen-Jen laughed. "I think the investors had the same objection. Not to worry, though. We have a basement, and the whole thing is bolted down in concrete."

The Purple Rat marched into the room with a squad of armed girls.

"Are you _absolutely certain_ you can handle this, Jen-Jen?"

The chunky blonde laughed. " _You're cute._ " She gave the girl a dismissive wave.

Purple Rat looked offended, but she still spun on her heels and goose stepped out, tailed by her guards.

Jen-Jen led us through a fancy looking plastic archway, into a lounge area that appeared to be a remodeled version of some little girl's throne room playset, actual furniture, framed pictures and objects de art juxtaposed against plastic thrones, repurposed soda bottle suits of armor, and faux alabaster equestrian statues.

David's wife sat on a chaise lounge, clad in a chintzy gold-orange dress, the sort of outfit a doll wears. She nursed an Abreya child on one breast.

"This is what happens when they no longer need your medical expertise."

Jen-Jen handed the baby to her mother and clapped her hands.

"So! Who wants cake?"


	51. Chapter 51: House Party

"Reem!" Sharad cried, throwing her arms around the female.

"Sharad!"

Pillow set her babies down for a moment, returning the embrace.

Willie, who had been trying to nap on a sofa next to the fake fireplace, rolled over, turning his back to them.

Pillow regathered her infants, staring at her daughter's uniform. "So they made you a soldier."

"Yok, remabe. I _escaped_ the training camp. I live like a hunted animal."

Pillow sniffed. "You certainly smell like one. When's the last time you bathed?"

"I fell into a pond a few days ago. Does that count?"

Pillow rolled her goat eyes.

Tido and his cult, upon seeing my friend, genuflected and stood in silent awe, murmuring something about "The one who was close to Shasharmazorb."

"Who's that, mommy?" Caitlyn said.

I smiled and rubbed her head. "That's _Pillow._ She's a good friend."

"She looks weird."

I laughed. "Some of my best friends look weird."

"Why's she named Pillow?"

"I'm...not really sure."

"She's cute," Pillow said. "What's her name?"

I told her.

"What happened to her hand?"

 _"What happened to your tail?"_

The question was rhetorical. She frowned. "I'm sorry."

Pillow's horizontal pupils narrowed at Moe. "Speaking of which, what is _he_ doing here?"

"He's sorry about your tail," Caitlyn said. "He _had_ to do it."

I gave the alien an apologetic look.

Pillow didn't look too pleased, but she still nodded in agreement. "Let's hope he doesn't _have_ to do anything else like that."

Sharad engaged in lively chatter with her mother in Wava, holding the babies and generally making up for lost time. I heard David being mentioned a few times.

I narrowed my gaze at our squat human `hostess.' "Two bodyguards against an army of twelve. Getting a tad overconfident, aren't you?"

My clone had this look like she thought she could take down my whole team by herself, but she didn't say anything. She just kept sizing us up.

Of particular interest to her was my daughter, and my `boyfriend.'

We were the same size, same relative age. I dreaded the thought of fighting her.

"Make that three," Charon said, limping into the room on her wolf's head cane. She aimed her gun at me.

"You're still outnumbered."

"There's no need to fight, Ellie," the hostess said. " _I friended you on Afexun,_ remember?"

"A virtual friend is not the same thing as a friend."

On a similar subject, Big Bird and Bishop, being androids, now stood facing each other like department store mannequins. Whatever tensions lay between them were not verbalized.

I clenched my fists. "Were you responsible for the coffins?"

Jen-Jen's eyes darted back and forth. "What coffins?"

 _"You said you knew I'd make it."_

Appearing to feign nonchalance, she said, "I only meant you had a long walk. What's this about a coffin?"

 _"Coffins._ As in _plural_. _We were buried alive._ Two people died before we could dig them out."

She gave me this dumb cow eyed stare like she didn't know what I was talking about. _"Did someone bury you?"_

The response was so moronic that I couldn't help but assume it were all an act designed to infuriate me.

"People are dead!" I shouted. "Who is responsible!"

"If anyone is dying in this place, it's their own fault. _We give them guidelines..._ " she shrugged.

"Is that what you told yourself when you killed Xavier?"

"You think _I_ killed him?" Jen-Jen burst out laughing.

I turned my rage on Charon. "It was you then. You just don't know how to be a good person, do you?"

"Maybe I don't," she said. "But the burial thing isn't my style. Neither is crucifixion. Hell, I didn't even want Rudy to be put in that arena, but Kamara said he'd outlived his usefulness to the project, _unless he could fight_ , so she had the guys carry him onto the tram. _You make one joke about Thunderdome..._ "

She wasn't smiling.

"So...whose idea was it?"

"Does it matter?"

I didn't answer. Instead, I whirled around to glare at Mrs. Lovelace. "You have a _phone! You called her!_ Who's behind this? _You?_ "

The woman burst into tears. "Those deaths are not my fault! I had nothing to do with this! They only told me to bring you here! I could have died in that coffin, just like you or anyone else!" She sobbed, sniffed, wiped her eyes. "So, no, it wasn't my doing. _Those poor children..."_

"Forgive me," I said. "But you seem so sketchy and aloof, and then I see you with a cel phone..."

"Why don't you just use Afexun?" Caitlyn asked.

"I have an allergic reaction to implants. The phone is basically a walkie talkie."

Caitlyn had never heard of something so prehistoric. "A what?"

 _"Direct Talk_ ," Moe explained. "Like a mall cop."

My daughter furrowed her brow a moment. "Oh."

I stared at the woman, uncertain what to think.

She had been a nice enough lady, at school, at least. I enjoyed her reading assignments, the biographies she gave us about various authors. And she had a charming glow to her during teacher conferences. I preferred reading in her class to military combat training, in whatever so-called `educational' guise it might take.

This is probably why I got moved to a different English class, one that was not as good, about halfway through the semester. The cover story was that she merely moved away to take care of her sick parents.

"I'm not a super spy or anything," the woman said. "I'm just a teacher that got her license revoked for teaching about religion and morality in a public school."

While she was speaking, the Ss'sik'chtokiwij possessed woman in camo dropped to the floor, sniffing around like a dog. Caitlyn tugged on my arm, but I didn't want to interrupt the conversation with nonsense.

"You're a Christian?" I said.

Lovelace chuckled. "No. I just told a few students about how all religions couldn't possibly be true at the same time, and maybe that a two heterosexual parent family is ideal for a person's psychological well being. The point is, I'm nothing but a school teacher." She smirked. "You always had the most insightful comments. It's a shame they didn't clone you to become an English major."

I no longer considered her the likely suspect.

"What about you?" I asked Ippi. "That little show with the witchdoctors seemed exactly the kind of thing your boyfriend would pull off. I even found one of his suits in one of the killer cars."

"He's not my boyfriend!" Ippi yelled. "He's sleaze!"

"But did he do it?"

"What do you think."

I scowled at her.

"Anyways, you'd have to ask _him_. I had nothing to do with his little magic tricks."

"And where is _he_ hiding?"

She shrugged. "Who knows? I lost sight of him the minute they pulled me out of the stands."

After enduring my silent glare for a moment, she blurted, "Okay, so I may have helped him set up. But that was it. We no longer _work together._ "

"What did they do with Lacethanny and Julia?" I asked the hostess.

" _They're safe_. I'd be happy to take you to them, but first, _you must be starving..._ " She nodded to Bishop.

The android stepped out of the room.

"You're getting mighty bold," I said. "You _know_ we could just gang up on you and slit your throat if we wanted."

My clone remained silent but wary.

Jennifer grinned like the cat that ate the canary. "But you wouldn't. I know you too well." She gestured to Pillow. " _What would your_ fellow Christians _think?_...Besides, _I have something you want_. Or, rather, _some things._ "

"She could always torture it out of you," Moe suggested.

"I'm disappointed in you, Eleven. _When did your cheese slip off the cracker?_ "

"I'm not really sure. I hate hors d'oeuvres."

She frowned. _"And still as thick as ever."_

Caitlyn tugged on my arm again. As I'd been talking, I'd noticed Hosea sniffing the couches, the tables, the corners of the room, the scattered baby toys, the diaper pail and blankets. When I glanced her way, she glared at me. Still bitterly resentful of the body swap, I guessed.

 _"Speaking of cheese falling off the cracker,_ " I muttered.

"Mom, why is she doing that?"

I said, "Something's wrong with her brain, honey."

The Abreya's oldest child was climbing up on a throne, dangling upside down from the back of the seat. It didn't topple because it was built into the floor.

Abreyas had strange looking genitals. You couldn't exactly call the child a male or a female. I assume even Pillow called herself female out of mere convenience. I noticed this because he (or perhaps more accurately, _it)_ was unclothed.

The child rolled out of the throne, onto the floor, then scurried up the side of a pillar, dangling off a flagpole by his tail, upside down.

"Nathan, be careful!" Pillow snapped, but it was too late. The child's tail slipped and he fell off hitting his head on the floor. He cried loudly at the injury, despite it being rather slight.

"He inherited his father's intelligence, I'm afraid," Pillow sighed.

"That's not very nice," I said.

"I suppose you're right, but it's true."

"David didn't seem that dumb to me."

"David!" Pillow laughed. " _Oh no!_ Nathan's father is Glombo Uhmuxa. It just goes to show that even a longer lifespan and better schools doesn't always make a male smart. No, I had Nathan _before_ I married David.

"If I could go back and change the things in my life, there's a lot I would have done differently. This is not to say my baby is a mistake. I love him very much. Would you mind holding Quana and Haman for a moment?"

I nodded and took the babies why she coddled her oldest.

Quana was cute as a button, and I had no problem holding her.

Haman, on the other hand...

The child's tiny lopsided eyes were spaced far apart, like a bird or fish. He had a harelip so wide that a number of his uppers were visible all the way to the gum line, and his ears were floppy, like a dog's, if you shaved off all the hair from one. The child also had horn-like nubs protruding from his forehead.

His body, with its covering of hair, had the appearance of a caterpillar, the arms and legs six useless looking stubs...it had an extra set of arms. The tail was also disproportionately long.

Not wanting to look at him any further, I looked up and saw Hosea sniff around an archway and slip out of the room. No one seemed to care.

I pretended not to notice.

The deformed baby was gnawing at my top. Pillow must have caught my look of disgust as I glanced down, for then she told me, "I named him after one of the most evil men in the bible. _The briwoxna._..they took seed from Nathan and impregnated me with it, maybe even slipped in some of Sil's DNA, I'm not sure, but it's incest, that's what it is. The child, he's an abomination."

She sighed and shook her head. "But the Lord hates abortion. I had a chance to kill him, but the guilt, the nightmares about hell...I cannot destroy this creature that Ponai has brought into being. It would have been better if I had been raped the ordinary way. At least then the baby wouldn't have been born like _this!.._ "

"Out there, people don't care," I said. "They make aborted babies into sandwiches."

"God!" Pillow said. "I thought that practice ended in the Siege of Jerusalem!"

"Now it's trendy," I said. "They call them `Freedom Meats.'"

"But Democracies are potato chips," said Moe. "To the best of my knowledge, they do not yet have a baby flavor."

"I don't blame my husband for being a Homeschooler."

She took the baby out of my arms, stroking his fur. "Why care for him at all? Because inside we're all as ugly as this, and my Lord still died to save me."

Pillow suckled the baby some more. "I had a consoling thought. Scripture says that God uses the foolish to shame the wise. Perhaps He also uses the hideous to bring to nothing the things that are beautiful.

"Perhaps, when he is old enough to speak, Haman will reflect an inner beauty that will put supermodels to shame. I have heard that the mentally handicapped have a great capacity for love."

I only stared at her.

Ippi put her hands to her hips, taking in the little domestic scene with a disgusted snap of her tail. "See that, Ellie? We have a word for a female like this. _Ondawku_. It means mindless hen or egg laying machine. I believe the human phrase with the same meaning is _barefoot and pregnant._ Of course, it still doesn't convey the same sense of rolling over and taking it."

"At least I'm not a baby killer!" Pillow shouted, her face flushing green with anger.

"Ladies..." Jen-Jen scolded. "Let's behave like civilized... _things_ here. _There's a reason why people say not to discuss religion or politics..._ "

"Too often, people act like that cute little saying was handed down by God on Mount Sinai," Pillow said. "But it's actually a recipe for two faced friends. I prefer to know where people's loyalties lie to popularity."

 _"Then you will end up alone,"_ Jen-Jen said.

"Amen," said Ippi.

"It is better to be an outcast in isolation than alone in a crowd of alleged friends."

"Did you say you had cake?" Moe asked.

A dwarf in a butler's outfit, a female in a maid's garb, the android, and a group of kids dressed in similar uniforms all entered the room bearing carts of food and drink, setting things down on tables. They had sandwiches, and tea in the English style (with milk and sugar). The cake was strawberry with cream cheese frosting.

Caitlyn reached for a sandwich, but I pulled her back. "They probably put sleeping potion in it."

When Moe's hand went for the cake, I shoved it and the trays of food on the floor.

Jen-Jen let out an exasperated sigh. "Gee, _that was a waste!_ "

"Nice try!" I shouted. "Get us all doped up so you can put us through another one of your little games!"

"Fine," she snarled. "I was just being nice. But _if you want to starve, go right ahead!_ "

She waved to the servants, and the food, and the mess I'd made, was all cleared away.

"If you're hungry, you have your fearless leader to blame. _I offered!_ "

"Why'd you do that, mommy?" Caitlyn whimpered. "I'm so hungry!"

I clutched her hand. "Caitlyn, I've been fooled before. The last thing we need is to be stuck in another trap because we ate some doped up food. You understand, don't you?"

With some reluctance, she nodded.

"If we wanted to knock you unconscious," Jen-Jen said. "We could have just filled the room with sleeping gas."

"The room is too open and ventilated for that."

Absolute Li, who had eaten one of the cakes before they could be removed from the room, now lay unconscious on a couch. Despite Jen-Jen's protestations of innocence, there _had_ been drugs in them.

I directed her attention to the boy. "Didn't you say the food wasn't doped?"

"How do you know he wasn't just tired?"

Tido shook him awake, but the boy remained groggy and heavy lidded. He slipped back into unconsciousness. Having no proof of drugs, I could only glare in annoyance.

I shoved Jen-Jen to the floor, hands clamped around her throat. "Where is the hospital! The one you're keeping Ernie and her grandmother in!"

 _"I don't need to tell you that,"_ she said. "But I _will_ tell you that it isn't here."

"Where is Julia and Lacethanny!"

"There's no need for violence," Pillow said. "They're being kept in the laundry room."

"Correction," Jen-Jen said. "They _were_ being kept there."

I banged her head against the floor. "Where are they!"

She smiled but didn't answer.

The muzzle of a gun pressed against my skull. I heard the click of a hammer going back.

"Careful," I heard a voice saying, the same voice I heard when I talked into a digital recorder. " _One sudden move and you might accidentally shoot yourself._ "

I raised my hands, releasing the woman.

"You get violent when you're _hangry,_ " Jen-Jen said in a smug tone.

I backed away from my twin, and the hostess. "We're cool. Everyone's cool. We'll just... _hang out_ , and wait for Jen-Jen to... _show us our friends._ "

Jen-Jen brushed herself off and sat up. "You know, _I think I'm going to need to sleep on that one._ "

The other Ellie holstered her gun, helping the woman to her feet.

Now, Ippi had been lurking behind one of the thrones, observing us with a guarded interest that told me nothing about her intentions.

I found it strange, therefore, when the fuzzy tip of her tail curled around the back of the throne, pointing at the clone as her eyes did a covert two-step in the girl's direction.

A large die cast metal car struck the other Ellie in the back of the head.

"Ow!"

My clone winced and rubbed her head, turning to look at the thrower.

Before she could attack, I jumped over a coffee table, clocking her across the side of the head.

I snatched the gun from her holster, but she head butted me, and we ended up wrestling for control of the piece.

"Caitlyn!" I shouted. "Hide!"

My daughter obediently fled the immediate area.

Behind us, Bishop had his own pistol out, but Big Bird had stepped in the way, and now the two engaged in sort of an awkward waltz as they fought to take possession of the weapon.

Willie got off the couch, backing out the entrance.

Pillow drew away from the conflict, protectively clutching her infants. Her stumpy tail held Nathan back.

I grabbed Ellie 2's gun in both hands, attempting to yank it out of her clutches.

My twin's fingers shot out to poke my eyes, but I kicked her in the crotch, brought my elbows around clockwise so they pinned her arm down, then yanked the gun away, shooting her in the stomach.

Ellie screamed and came at me, but at about the same time, Moe raised up a vase, smashing it over the back of her head.

She collapsed on the floor.

I stared at her in alarm.

What if that were me? Was I really that much of a pushover?

If Moe betrayed me, could he take me out that easily?

I hoped I would never find out.

When I heard a scream, I flinched and shied away from my twin's body, prepared to go another round with her, but then I saw it was actually Sharad, who had climbed up on a pillar and jumped onto Bishop's back, clawing at his fiber optic eyeballs.

Big Bird snatched the gun out of his hands, but did not fire, due to the danger of injuring Sharad.

"Young lady!" Lovelace shouted, waving the knife she'd taken from the arena. "Shove this through the base of his skull!"

She threw the knife to her.

The moment the Abreya had it, Bishop's hands reached around backwards, squeezing Sharad's neck in such a way that would have been impossible for a person, but easy for a machine with added articulation in its joints.

Sharad wasn't afraid of him. Despite being choked, she did what Lovelace said, ramming the knife up through the top of his spinal column. Milky white coolant sprayed all over her, and the hands kept choking her, but she only pushed the blade in deeper.

The robot's hands froze there, continuing to squeeze, despite the rest of his body shutting off. Sharad tried to pry his fingers away, but they were like iron.

Big Bird holstered the gun, drove a finger into a spot in Bishop's wrists, and both hands snapped open like reversed mousetraps.

Sharad backed into a corner and cried.

I and my former teacher exchanged glances, wordlessly communicating that a bond of trust had been established. I gave her a grateful nod.

I spun around and checked on my daughter.

Caitlyn was cowering behind Pillow's chaise lounge. I raised a hand, indicating she should stay there.

"C'mon," my bird costumed enemy was saying to Jen-Jen, gun at the ready. "Let's get you someplace safe."

"I can take care of myself," said the squat woman. "Why don't you make yourself useful and shoot someone?"

"Because maybe I have a better idea."

Charon patted Jen-Jen's pockets, removed her handgun, then shoved her into the group of cult members. "There you go, kids! Have fun!"

"Hey!" our hostess shouted. "Charon! What is this!"

"It's called a hostile takeover. If I were you, I'd tell them where you're keeping the girl's friends."

Jen-Jen whimpered. "I'll report you to the board for this!"

 _"If you live!"_

My jaw hung open in shock.

My most hated foe had just changed sides!

Tido grabbed the woman, shoving her to the floor.

He pressed a knife to her throat. "You know something about where we can find our Lord Shasharmazorb, don't you?"

 _"Maybe,"_ she said. "But if you kill me, you'll never find out."

 _"Oh we don't intend to kill you..."_

When I looked away from the scene, I heard the woman screaming.

Ellie 2 was stirring.

Moe, who had been sitting on my twin to keep her from moving, now found his task doubling in difficulty. "Yo! Anyone got a rope?"

"She'll just burn through it," I said. "I would."

"Then I guess we'll have to kill her."

Before anyone could stop her, my twin wiggled out of his clutches, pushing and shoving everyone out of her path as she hastily escaped through an archway.

"Dammit!" Moe shouted.

"Forget her," I said. "If we kill her, they'll just clone another one. We'll deal with her if and when she decides to cross paths with us again."

"They're in a secret room in the basement!" Tido announced as he held up a bloody knife.

I didn't want to know what he had done. The trickle of blood at the corner of Jen-Jen's mouth told me enough.

Ippi gave me a high five. "Great! With any luck, we'll be off this rock within an hour!"

"Maybe, maybe not," I said. "I think an hour is a little optimistic. _Still, we have an army._ It shouldn't take too long..."

We accessed the basement by crossing through a ball room that appeared to be modeled after a Beauty and the Beast playset, and passing through a door at the foot of a staircase.

Pillow and her kids followed us. Sharad stayed at her side, knife at the ready.

We entered a concrete basement containing a small prison full of empty cells. To one corner of this, I saw a room with glass windows, one featuring a dentist's chair and torture instruments.

Through the bars at the rear of the cells, I could see that it was quite dark, late in the evening, possibly near dawn. Not surprising, considering how it had been dark when we got in the arena, and we wouldn't have been buried alive long enough for it to become dawn without us suffocating.

"Well," Moe said. _"This is quaint."_

"I never liked this place," said Pillow.

I nodded. "I don't blame you."

A steel security door stood at the far end, one with a palm scanner and a keypad. Hosea crouched on the floor next to it, eagerly waiting for someone to let her in.

Tido forcefully grabbed Jen-Jen's hand, pressing it to the palm scanner, then, when she refused to give the code for the associated keypad, he cut on her earlobe until she talked.

The door clicked open, and we hustled into another concrete prison, this one containing five glass and metal cages with unearthly creatures inside. A second steel door at the opposite end had a radiation symbol on it.

Pillow kept her children close, eyes darting around nervously.

I didn't see any sign of Ernie or her grandmother, but I did find Mark, Julia, Lacethanny, and a Ss'sik'chtokiwij larva I hadn't met before, a larva with a shell bearing the texture of warty toad skin.

The fifth cell held another stranger, a woman with huge pink bat-like ears, dressed in a white mental patient's outfit.

Moe clapped and rubbed his palms together. "All right! Now we're getting somewhere!"

I tried to open the cells, but they required an access code, and pushing the button sequence that sounded like _Devil Inside_ didn't work.

Jen-Jen, who had been directing us to the location, said, "That synthetic human you killed had the codes." She had a slight lisp, due to whatever Tido had done to her. "Good luck opening those cells, assholes!"

Hosea rushed over to the larva, chatting with her in Ss'sik'chtokiwij.

Moe punched in random sequences of numbers on the other doors, idly playing _Old McDonald_ and the James Bond theme with the keys.

They remained locked. "Huh. That didn't work."

"Can you figure out a way to crack the codes?" I asked our robotic companion.

"Yes," she said. "But it will take time."

I nodded. "Do what you have to. We need them out of there."

Jen-Jen's eyes were bulging in fear. "You're seriously going to let those flesh eating monsters run free?"

"Don't act so scared," I said. "You've seen them run free before."

"I've seen a damn _lion_ run loose before, but that doesn't mean I'm going to calmly sit down and watch TV while it's stalking around in my house."

"Well that's just too bad," I said. "They're getting out, and I'm taking them with me."

She said nothing, but the look I saw on her face was positively shifty.

"She has a point," said Willie. "Those creatures..."

I placed a claw on Caitlyn's shoulder. "Those creatures I trust with my daughter's life. Even that little one..."

I glanced at the larva's face plates. "Sripasde! What's your name?"

"Lammy," she said. "Or _Lamb Chop_ if you prefer. Nathan does."

So far the boy only talked in Wava, but maybe she was just quiet like Mark.

I marched up to her cell. " _Lammy,_ I'm a friend of your mother's. You wouldn't harm a human, would you?"

Lammy tilted her head quizzically. "It depends on whether the killing is just."

"She did not share minds with mother as I did," said Hosea. "Mother spoke to her egg."

"She means that mother connected her ssujmarrux to a socmavaj."

"I confess that there is a lot I do not understand," Lammy said in Ss'sik'chtokiwij. Especially the human tongue, but I have received many important memories. They come to me like dreams. I understand what pleases mother, and what does not. A human can be a very beautiful, loving pet."

"What did it say?" Willie asked.

"She's confused, but she.. _.is an animal lover._ "

"I've been trying to communicate with her," Pillow said with a smile. "She tends to be more fluent in Wava."

Big Bird flipped her index finger backwards in a way that would break a normal human digit. She had a sort of automatic socket wrench inside it, one which she used to unfasten the casing to the security access panel on Julia's cell.

Tido and his flock, of course, couldn't help but show their reverence to their gods, but I stepped in front of their bowing figures, crossing my arms. "Hey. Make yourselves useful and check the area for soldiers. We're not going to get my other, um, Shasharmazorb and her kin out of this place if we've got company."

Sure, it was kind of rude, but I anted him to get annoyed and start talking to me like an equal.

The man frowned, but gave me a solemn nod. "I hear and obey, milady." Then, as an afterthought, _"Ms. Siebers."_

He led the children out of the room.

"Should I go with them?" Moe asked. "You know, keep them out of trouble?"

I shook my head. "You need to stay here with me and Caitlyn, in case something goes south."

"You're right. Someone needs to keep _Big Flo_ in check."

"Big Flo!" Jen-Jen cried indignantly. "How dare you!"

"We need to find her a gag. Or maybe an apple, like at a luau."

I grinned at Charon. " _You're hired._ A gag and some rope."

Charon saluted me, hobbling out.

"Bitch," Jen-Jen said. "I thought we were friends."

"I don't think you know what a friend is," I countered.

I peered into the big eared woman's cell. "Hi...who are you?"

"Song Young," she said.

I think she was staring at my arm as much as I stared at her ears.

"I'm a half alien clone," I said.

Song touched her ears. "Genetic fad." Her voice had a thick Asian accent to it. You could tell by the stress she put on the syllables.

She must have noticed my confusion, for then she added, "My great great grandfather wanted to `improve' my great grandmother's genetics. It worked, but it took two generations to backfire."

"I'm sorry it happened to you."

She shrugged. "You should see my boyfriend."

"Some of her best friends look weird," Caitlyn said.

Song chuckled. "She is very cute."

Our little rest in the graveyard wasn't a full eight hours, even if we _had_ actually rested. And some food would have been nice.

"Can we go back to the other town?" Caitlyn asked. "To get food?"

I rubbed my face. "I don't think that's a good idea. We'll have to figure out something else."

I thought about assigning Ippi the task of getting food, or checking the house for foes, but I didn't trust her enough for that. Heck, I didn't trust Charon, but I didn't have to eat a gag, or rope. I decided I would have to ask Pillow about the food.

I approached Lacethanny's cell. "How are you and your friends doing?"

"Just fine," she said. "This isn't our first time being imprisoned."

Big Bird had the key panel of Julia's cell opened now, busying herself working on the wires.

"They used shock collars on us," said Julia.

I patted the bulletproof glass barrier. "At least you're all right."

I stood up, spent a few seconds mentally appraising my English teacher's strategic value. "I could use a little more recon. Check out the other places in the house that Tido and his kids aren't looking. Check outside. See if we have any visitors. Run back here if you see anything."

She smirked. "Maybe it's good you weren't cloned with a literature gene. You seem to be taking well to army tactics. I think we actually _need_ them right now."

The comment didn't set well with me, but she was gone out the door before I could think about it too hard.

Mark asked Pillow something in Wava, but she shook her head.

When I checked on Big Bird's progress again, I found her French kissing the wires inside the panel.

"Hey, get a room, you two," Moe joked.

The cel door came open, and Julia scampered out.

Big Bird wiped her mouth like she'd just given a person a fat juicy kiss. "I required direct communication with the system. I have advanced fiber optic systems in my tongue."

She moved onto the next cell, only punching in numbers this time. Lacethanny's cell popped open in seconds.

"What, no tongue?" Moe asked.

"Electrical current has a memory," said Big Bird. "I familiarized myself with it."

"The circuit breakers must think you're totally hot."

"Circuit breakers do not think." But then she froze in thought. And laughed. " _Humor._ I will file that away in my database."

Soon Big Bird had Mark and Lammy freed from their cells.

When she set about punching in the code for Ms. Young, something malfunctioned.

The lock clicked, but refused to open.

"There's something wrong with that cell," Jen-Jen explained. "We're trying to fix it."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why is she even in there? Is she really that dangerous?"

"No, _but her boyfriend is."_

"Big Bird, do you know how to get her out of there?"

"Perhaps, but it will take more time."

"All right," I said.

Charon limped back into the room, bearing rope and a bandanna. "Will these work?"

"Gimme." Moe snatched the items up, binding and gagging the woman so securely that you'd have to use a knife to get her out of it.

I thanked Charon, asking her to search the building for weapons, and signs of the enemy.

"So," I said to Pillow. "Where's the food kept around here?"

Pillow led us up the stairs, and through a doorway to one side of the ballroom.

Willie had acquired a fireplace poker from the fireplace, using it like a cane as he limped after us.

The kitchen had the same dollhouse-like design scheme as the rest of the house. The counters and sink were made of that park bench kind of plastic, but some exceptions had been made for practicality. Metal and marble topped surfaces for hot food, metal microwave, metal stove and dishwasher, metal sink fixtures, metal fridge, metal pots, knives, pans and other tools, but the cabinets, furniture and floor were polyethylene and PVC.

So far, we heard no signs of battle, no indication that Tido and his kids had encountered resistance, so we set about foraging.

I saw no sign of the butler or kitchen staff. I guess they ran away out of fear or something.

The fridge contained leftovers of things that I hadn't spilled on the floor. I didn't want to touch them.

Since I knew that stuff was all tainted, I and Caitlyn left it alone, cracking open canned goods from the cabinets, frying up eggs, hamburger meat, anything that looked like it could be safely consumed, or safe from toxins once thoroughly cooked.

Pillow helped me a lot with this. David couldn't have asked for a better wife. Really. Once the children were in their recycled high chairs (and Nate was actually following directions like a child twice his age) a very basic but terrific meal was bubbling and simmering away.

Our mouths were watering. I even saw Jen-Jen's gag dampening.

"No sign of weapons," Charon said as she limped in.

She sniffed. "Wow. That smells delicious. Too bad I already ate on the boat."

"Yeah?" I said, somewhat indignant. "What did _you_ have?"

"Catfish, steak fillet, crab cakes and fried rice. I probably won't get to eat that good again."

Moe smirked. "I _thought_ I saw your bikini molting."

 _"Funny."_

She didn't touch the Ozsaggo," Ippi said.

"I don't eat cat food, no matter how well it's prepared."

"You should have tried bird seed," Moe joked.

"Getting kind of _punchy_ , aren't you Moe?" I asked.

"Sorry. _It's late. I do that._ "

In a tone that sounded almost jealous, Sharad said, _"You had Ozsaggo?"_

"She couldn't cook Ozsaggo if it were ordered from Ribopredh," Pillow mocked.

"Hey, who said I cooked it?"

"Oh, she cooked it, all right," Charon groaned. "She melted paraffin over cockroaches."

Caitlyn wrinkled her nose. "Gross!"

"No, gross is eating Marshmallow Peeps."

Mark crawled up on me like a little monkey, so I cradled him in my arms as I worked on my meal. Julia and Lacethanny scampered around my legs, watching our activities with interest.

"We do not get out much," Lacethanny explained. "This is new to us."

"I saw cooking in a prison," Julia said. "This smells much more delicious."

"I imagine it would," said I.

Lammy climbed up on a marble counter. "You knew my mother. I recognize your face from the visions."

I nodded. "I'm pretty sure you're the only Lammy on the island, so you'd have to be my friend's larva."

 _"Not your friend._ Your _niece's_ larva."

"All right," I said. "Maybe we're related."

My cheeks flushed as I thought my awkward, semi-incestuous situation with Julia. Some things you don't want to ever verbalize, despite there being unanswered questions...like how I was supposed to have babies. "I...promise we're going to get the family back together, or die trying."

That really wasn't what I wanted to say, but I couldn't think of anything better to fill the gap.

"Is it true my birth helped rescue children?"

 _"In a way,"_ I said. "This place is a _little better_ than where they were, but still not ideal."

"But I was not entirely unjustified in consuming the human I'd hatched from."

"No...I think your...species has to do that."

 _"I didn't,"_ Julia said.

"Well, you're...um...the exception. Anyway, it was good that you were born when and where you were."

After what felt like an eternity of salivating near half cooked food with empty bellies, the completed repast was distributed (on recycled plastic plates. of course).

There weren't enough chairs for all of us, but some of my party ate in the throne room.

Tido returned from his reconnaissance mission, announcing the all clear, so we gave him and his companions some grub as well.

Even Song came in to eat, having at last being freed from her cell.

We ran out of the cooked stuff, but there was still food in cans, and everyone had already eaten a fair amount, even the Ss'sik'chtokiwij. so nobody complained.

"How did you end up here, Ms. Young?" I asked with my mouth partly stuffed with potatoes.

"She's part of the science team," Pillow said. "Or _she was_ , until the department folded."

"It was beginning of Sil project," said Song. "They didn't like results. They said we...did not work fast enough. And there was _lab acshident._ "

"Sorry to hear that," I said.

Now that we were fed, we had another problem to deal with.

 _"We're all tired,"_ Willie yawned. "We've done nothing but run around and fight. We can't keep this up."

"You're right," I said. "But I don't like the idea of sleeping in this house, either. Someone needs to watch Jen-Jen and the perimeter, or we'll end up in another trap."

"I only need eight hours of sleep in a forty eight hour period," Ippi said. "I slept last night, so I'm good."

"Speak for yourself," said Pillow. "Haman and Nate are _leyonda_ , so sleep has been kind of rough."

"What's leyonda?" I asked.

"Abreyas are either one of two sleeping modes. Leyonda or Oxucar."

"Unless you're neither," Ippi said. "Then you'll be spending quality time at a doctor."

I stared.

"There are... _Cubcucos._ They're like horoscopes, all based on your sleep pattern and star pattern. Nothing you'd recognize, of course, we have different stars."

"I'm a Oxucar," Sharad said. "I need to sleep tonight."

"All right, so we have _one_ on night watch..." I didn't totally trust Ippi, but I couldn't say it out loud. "Do we have any other night owls?"

"I'll watch you," Moe said.

"We have been resting for some time," Julia said. "I, Lammy and Lacethanny will keep watch."

"My brethren and I will take turns," Tido said.

Charon also volunteered.

There were beds in the prison cells, and Pillow told us about more in rooms upstairs, but nobody wanted to use them.

"I'd feel safer sleeping outside," Sharad said.

Lovelace, who was just returning from a search of the house, said, "I wouldn't. Take a look out the south window."

We followed her into a Barbie dining room, where Ippi was already drawing back the chintz curtains.

"Shit!" the Abreya cried. "Security Spheres!"

I looked out and saw five giant massage ball things rolling down the dirt road, circling the house.

"Every time you turn around, there's _those damned things..._ " Lovelace said. "They've been known to kill people, but they're still being used, apparently."

Moe frowned. " _Guess we're stuck here._ "


	52. Chapter 52: Meeting of Minds

Note: My apologies for the character overload. In future installments, the characters are going to split up, so there will be less dialog, and less for me to juggle.

I actually had to draw a table a few times to figure out who was being neglected in every scene.

[0000]

* * *

Big Bird pressed a palm to the Plexiglas. Her eyes fluttered for a moment.

"The Security Spheres are on curfew settings. They will return to the base in eight hours."

"Is there any way to destroy those things?" I asked.

"Yes, but it would require explosives, armor piercing rounds, or an EMP."

"So a Ss'sik'chtokiwij couldn't just climb inside it and rip something out?"

"The core is armor plated,a nd the gel contains a paralyzing agent. Even if a synthetic human made the attempt, the electrical pulses would cause damage to its systems. There are other ways to deactivate them, but they require precise timing of shots at a specific moving target, or access to specialized tools not present at this location."

"All right, then. They can force us to stay here, but they can't force us to sleep."

Willie leaned on the window. " _Eight hours!_ Every minute we spend in this ridiculous house is another minute _those people_ can use to throw together another death trap. Right now, they could be sending another army our way, and _those damned cars!_ I'm not spending the night in this place!"

"What do you suggest?" I said. "You heard Big Bird. You can't destroy those things out there. You have to wait them out."

"I'm sick of waiting. I'm going to check this place for another exit."

 _"Good luck with that!"_ Pillow said. "The only way out, as far as I know, is out the doors, or down the tunnels below, and _you need special security clearance._ "

He scowled, facing Big Bird. "Android, you're hired."

We followed him and the robot back downstairs, to that door with the radiation symbol on it.

"Please understand that our path may intersect a nuclear power plant," she said as her fingers danced across the keypad. "There may not be enough protective gear for all of you."

"Those creatures and those demented children can rot here as far as I'm concerned. I just want out."

When I noticed my companions getting pissed off, I suggested, " _We can do relays_. _Trade suits._ It's like one of those limited information team building exercises, where you have to get everyone in your team across a pit of imaginary lava in only a couple trips."

The children didn't understand what I meant at all.

"We had a thing at summer camp. There were wooden platforms, and you pretended like the dirt was lava, and a stick was a magic thing that protected you from the lava, but you could only cross the dirt three times."

"I think you lost them on `pretend,'" Lovelace said.

I stared at her. "One thing still bothers me, _teach_. How did you know how to kill Bishop?"

 _"I was on the run from the law,_ " she said. "You tend to pick up things like that quickly."

I explained my concept to the kids more carefully. They seemed to get the idea, but they were still bristling.

All of a sudden, the keypad went dark, and when it came back on, it had a blinking red light. A deafening alarm noise filled the room, making everyone cover their ears.

"It's MM7," Big Bird said, opening her finger. "She's fighting back. I'll need to reroute the wiring manually."

A second after she said this, a massive explosion collapsed the tunnel beyond the reinforced bulletproof window, effectively shutting off our only other avenue of escape with a mountain of rocks and boulders.

"Any more brilliant ideas?" I said.

The man snarled something and limped back upstairs.

"How is Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik?" Julia asked Hosea in Ss'sik'chtokiwij.

"Mother is still imprisoned. She takes to it well."

"That is not surprising. What about Shasharmazorb?"

"I do not know. I was not allowed to see her."

"Guys? A little help?"

When I turned away from her, I found that Tido and the children had surrounded Charon, their knives drawn for a major bloodletting.

Mark, now hanging from my neck, muttered, "I don't like that woman."

"It looks like you're not the only one."

I stepped into the circle. "She just delivered Jen-Jen into your hands," I said. "Let her go."

"This woman lies. That's why the Security Spheres are here," Tido said. "It's a _scheme._ "

"You're blowing this all out of proportion," I said.

"She betrayed me and other children into the hands of those slavers!" Guessica shouted.

"She betrayed me too, but I forgave her. Let her go."

"But she's human scum!"

"Hey," I said. " _You're_ human. Look, she's a sinner in need of grace, okay?"

"You don't understand what she's put me through! What she's put other children through!"

"I was a child once," I said. "I was _on_ the Disney boat. Don't tell me I don't understand."

"If you understood, you'd kill her!"

"Forgiving isn't easy," I said. "But I forced myself to do it, and I don't regret it. Don't forget that she just double crossed Jen-Jen."

"How do you know it's not an act?"

"She's right," Tido said. "This could all be an elaborate ruse to once again deprive us of our god."

"I still don't know why you worship these space creatures," Charon said.

She looked my way. "They can _bleed_ , can't they?"

I nodded.

"That means nothing," Tido said. "Jesus Christ himself could bleed."

This earned an eye roll from her.

Tido shoved Charon into a wall, holding his knife to her throat. "None of us would be sorry if you were dead. Tell us why we should not kill you now and be done with it?"

 _Charon actually looked bored._ "I know some things about how to get closer to your so-called `god.' _Who knows? It might be useful._ Contrary to popular belief, I don't love this organization I've been thrust into. _Maybe I want to create a little anarchy_." She paused. "Got a cigarette?"

The man stared at her for a moment, then told her, "You should not pollute such an ideal host body as yours with such toxins."

She smirked. _"I bet you say that to all the girls._ "

It was then that I noticed how much Tido had been staring.

"How long have you been out of prison?" she asked.

The man gawked at her. "How did you-"

"I saw the bar code on your neck."

"Four years. Conspiracy to commit murder. The victim was a Christian. I got out early on good behavior. _There are others, but the police doesn't know about them._ "

"You know, I always had a thing for jail birds, and you're kinda cute. It's too bad you have so many religious delusions. _We could have worked something out._ "

"And if you recognized the deity of Shasharmazorb, we could have produced many host bodies for her to bless with her young."

 _"You'd do all that, huh?"_ Charon said with a laugh. "You're a terrible flirt."

"And you are a temptress sent by the evil one to separate me from Shasharmazorb."

 _"So you admit that I tempt you._ "

He swallowed. "Yes."

She pressed her body against his, lips brushing against his ear. _"Perhaps I should do more of it."_

I could see the conflicting emotions in the man's face. Lust, anger, indignation.

The woman smiled and walked out of the room.

As Tido turned to watch her go, Charon used some kind of device to make a fan of tail feathers flash from her bikini bottom.

The children stared at their leader with suspicion.

"Where did you find that woman?" Lovelace asked me.

"It's a long story. I'm just...kinda glad she's helping us...I think."

"You're right to be cautious. No one in this place is what they seem to be."

The same could apply to you, I thought. _"You couldn't be more right._ "

We returned to the dining room to check on our prisoner.

"How do you like the taste of your own medicine?" Willie mocked as he leaned close to the woman.

Jen-Jen mumbled something through her gag.

"My God, how refreshing it is not to hear you flapping your fat jaw! _A fellow could get used to this!_ "

I could see the shape of the woman's teeth as they ground together in anger.

Caitlyn, who had also been standing near Jen-Jen, told me, _"She tried to get me to free her."_

Ippi and Pillow were snapping their tails (well, Pillow snapped her stub), glaring at the captive.

I scowled.

"We should kill her," Tido said. "The woman is too much trouble."

"She is a heretic," Guessica agreed. "Why don't we throw her to the Security Spheres?"

"Yes," Song said. "Then we could escape this place!"

"That's a good idea," I said. "Maybe we don't need to kill her."

"Did she do something that bad?" Absolute asked, but this only made the other members glare at him.

"I think we should do like that kid said and throw her to the massage ball. Let the higher-ups tear her a new one." He laughed as he thought about it.

I nodded. "I _do_ like the sound of that..."

Charon put her hands on her hips. " _She stays._ I admit she's a bitch, but her ranking far exceeds mine. We need her information."

Now the cultists glared at _her_.

Tido raised a staying hand.

"Great Julia," he said to the Ss'sik'chtokiwij. "What is your advice?"

"Tell them yes," Ippi said. "Kill her. She's a weaselly condescending ass."

"Do it," said Lovelace. "I never liked her anyway."

Julia turned her face toward me.

I shrugged.

"Allow her to live," she said.

She paused. "I am hungry again. Meat please."

The man jumped to his feet. "You heard the great one. I saw something in the freezer."

With that, he and his followers ran, not walked, to the kitchen.

Well, except Absolute. He sort of waddled behind.

Ippi grinned. "What other tricks can you make them do?"

"There have been _plays,_ " she said. "But they were... _embarrassing_ to me."

She laughed.

Charon limped up to the Abreya, speaking to her in a hushed tone. "You think we did the right thing?"

Ippi cocked her head in my direction, indicating that I was listening in. "I don't care what's right. Those bastards aren't going to let me leave this place. _This girl_ is my only hope of getting out of here. What about you? What's your stake in this?"

Charon shrugged. "I always wanted to be an astronaut and travel to the Offworld Colonies, but I couldn't pass the entrance exams."

She glanced at me with this expression that said this wasn't the only reason.

"What was in that green book?" I asked.

"What green book?"

I could tell she was being evasive. "You know what I'm talking about. You were reading it in the library."

 _"The Cat In The Hat._ "

"Bullshit. If you were truly on my side, you wouldn't withhold information."

She glanced at the ceiling. "We're being watched."

I grabbed Big Bird, pointing at a camera bubble. "Can you disable the security in this area?"

"I have already removed several microphones," she said. "I will work on the cameras." She pulled open a light switch, working on the wires.

 _"I guess it won't do any harm telling you now..."_ Charon hushed her voice a bit. "It's an employee training manual, and the instructions on my objectives in the current stage of the program. You were supposed to go to sleep and run the gauntlet of Jen-Jen's tests, and I was supposed to help. There were specific tests for all your friends. The back had maps and instructions. Unfortunately, I left them all back at the boat. If you really want out of here I'd probably forget it."

I marched into the kitchen, stopping Pillow in the middle of doing dishes. "Do you know where we can find blankets and..." I gave her an apologetic smirk. _"You know._ "

She laughed. "It's okay. _You can say it._ I've already heard it all from my husband. My favorite is _`dirty pillows.'_ _You don't want to know what Sikes means in my language._ "

I stared. "What?"

"Sorry. It's a quote from _Alien Nation_." The smile faded from her face. "So he's still _loex_ , still good, then? My husband?"

"Yeah. He seems resigned to his fate."

"And...Camille...She's really dead?"

" _I'm sorry._ Was she a close friend of yours?"

She nodded sadly. "I'd call Matt and tell him, but they took my communicator. And even if I had it, I wouldn't want him to come here. We're _missionaries_. We don't exactly have government backing. They'll see this as our fault, for landing in this hostile place to begin with."

"Doesn't your government have some sort of diplomatic protection for their citizens?"

Pillow rolled her eyes. "And what happens if a Christian missionary brings a bunch of Chinese language bibles into China? Or tries to open a church in a strict Islamic state? Does America go to war to save them?"

"No," I said. "They throw a party."

She pointed to my outfit. "I've been meaning to ask. What are you supposed to be? Minnie Mouse?"

I reddened. " _A sexy French Minnie Mouse._ Of course right now it just feels gross because I've been sweating in it all day."

"And your friend over there...is she Donald Duck?"

I gave Charon a sideways glance. _"More or less._ "

Pillow tugged on her chintz dress. "Would you like one of these?"

I frowned. "You don't have anything with pants?"

 _"Kigo._ I'm afraid not." She stood close to me, stretching her dress, visually measuring me up. "I might have some outfits you can wear, _but they may fit a little loosely on you._ I'm not sure the underwear is suitable, either."

I scrunched my face in disgust. _"Pass._ "

"We also have a washing machine. It's a little primitive, _but it dry cleans._ "

Since I had hesitated, she said, "Come upstairs with me. I'll show you some things. We need to bring the blankets and _pillows_ down anyway."

I followed her up a grand staircase to a hallway lined with bedrooms. Caitlyn was nervous around the others, so she followed me.

Pillow's room was at the far end of the hall. With all the foliage, it reminded me of a scene from the movie _Troll_ , except in a brilliant white color.

The bed, the centerpiece, had been designed to look like an enormous lily, with huge cushiony petals that served as the bed's canopy, headboard and the bed itself. A couch by the window, and a circular couch in the back corner carried a similar motif. The walls were cream colored and covered in plastic bas relief plants, the dressers wooden, but white and carved with plant designs.

"They asked me what Abreya bedrooms were like," Pillow said. "I didn't want anything special. I didn't care about it, but they insisted, so I just told them `The beds and furniture resemble plants.' They went to town." She paused. "Did I use that expression correctly?"

"Yeah."

She smiled at the alien child climbing up on my shoulder. "That's Sil's baby, isn't he?"

"Yeah."

"I worked on that project. He's not dangerous, is he?"

"Not...as far as I can tell."

Mark waved to her.

Pillow opened a closet, showing me a wide variety of dresses.

"Why chintz?" I asked as I examined the articles. "These look much nicer."

"They don't seem to understand how hot my pelt gets," she said. "And these dresses don't breathe."

"Neither does chintz."

"Actually, this one I'm wearing does."

"Have you thought about shaving?"

 _"Please._ Do you know how many hours that would take?"

I tried on a few things, and then she showed me a pink colorblock outfit that actually matched my measurements.

"This fits too tight on me. I forgot I even had it."

I took it, pleased that the sleeves were short and strong, and it wouldn't fall off me in battle, if it came to that.

She was right about the underwear. It had tail holes, and there was a shape to them that wouldn't be comfortable to a man or a woman. Her bras weren't the right shape either. She _did_ , however, own a few pairs of normal boxer shorts.

Mark was still covered in caked on blood and dirt. Since he kept following me, and came into the bathroom with me anyway, I took him in the shower and gave him an extra spray with the sprayer. He took it well enough, probably because I was cleaning up too.

Pillow's shower was like something you'd use on a dog, but I washed myself in it anyway. The soap felt like pumice on my skin, and my claw arm burned a little. Still, I still felt a lot better when I finished, and the drier could dry a storm drenched woolly mammoth in a couple minutes.

I made Caitlyn go next.

When she came back out (with me, because I had to supervise and help her figure out the machines) I found Pillow coming into the room with a pile of clothing. "I found this in the linen closet. I think they _intended_ for you to stay here."

Fatigues, both in my size and Caitlyn's, and underwear. I guess someone at HQ got tired of leering at my mouse costume.

Since Pillow's dresses looked so nice, I decided to keep the dress and wear camo pants with it.

There were roughly a dozen blankets and pillows in the Barbie bedrooms next door and linen closet. When I brought them downstairs into the throne room, I turned some heads.

"You look nice," Moe said to me as I handed out the items.

I reddened. "You should bathe. There's probably clothes for you up there."

He looked like he didn't care. Years of playing war games in the jungle will probably do that to you. "Will you be all right down here?"

I shrugged. _"I have an army._ "

"All right. Be back in a few."

He spoke to Pillow for a moment, complimenting her cooking and stuff. I could tell she was trying her best to be nice, but she spoke in a rather short manner, suggesting hidden resentments. She hurried him upstairs.

"Hey, nice threads," Charon said to me as I spread a blanket on the chaise lounge for my daughter. "Not exactly matching with the camo, but I understand. _Practicality._ "

"Do you want something?" I asked, a little annoyed.

She said, "I just wanted to say sorry. _For everything._ I've been a real bitch."

I swallowed. "I forgive you."

" _I know,"_ she said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "You're too good. Thank you."

Caitlyn curled up on the blanket, smiling at me with heavy eyelids. I rubbed her head affectionately.

Song stooped over Caitlyn, giving up her own blanket and pillow to make the child more comfortable. "I would like to have a daughter like yours some day. But life, it is so hard."

"Yeah."

Willie, seated in a chair nearby, commented, "I wouldn't get attached. _This island isn't very nice to families._ "

Noting my costume, she said, "Wow, you are with Disney?"

"No," I replied. " _We had a falling out._ "

Ippi joined us. "What's so bad about your boyfriend?" she asked Song. "Why were they keeping you in that cell?"

"Ian... _has changed._ I don't know. Something...happen. He is _much dangerous._ " She shook her head, apparently unable to explain further.

I sat on the floor and kept watch over the girl. Mark, Hosea and the three Ss'sik'chtokiwij gathered around us like a pride of lions, the cult members forming a ring around us, making me think of supplicants outside the holy of holies at some temple.

Song backed away at the sight of this.

Julia, not getting the hint, followed her. "Would you like to link minds? We could learn much about each other."

The woman shuddered, shaking her head.

The Korean boy appeared to be the runt of Tido's litter, probably because of his weight. Since he seemed lonely, I sat down next to him for a moment. "Hey, your name is Absolute, right?"

He nodded. "Of course they call me _Mimi_ here." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "We're all musical notes here. It's kinda dumb. Absolute Li isn't much better, but it was the name my parents picked out."

"Did they die?"

"No, they were unemployed for two months, so the State took me away from them. Said they were unfit parents." His eyes turned toward the kitchen. "Since we're sleeping anyway, would it really be so bad to have one of those sandwiches?"

"Didn't you get enough to eat?"

"He never gets enough to eat," Guessica said. "He eats like a big fat pig."

"That's not nice," I said.

The boy looked depressed. _"It's true._ "

"It's okay," Moe said. "I can help you get into shape."

I caught him staring at my dress. "What happened to the mouse suit?"

"I got sick of it," I said.

"Aw," he groaned. "Those suits are totally hot."

 _"Tell me about it._ All I did was sweat."

"No, I mean..."

 _"I know what you meant."_

He suddenly looked depressed. "They say I can't be close to Ss'sik'chtokiwij because I'm unworthy."

"Nonsense," I said. "You can sleep next to me and Caitlyn if you want."

That cheered him up right away. "Really? You don't think I'm unworthy?"

"They're just creatures from space. They're not gods."

I led him over to our spot, between Moe and Caitlyn. The boy muttered some kind of prayers under his breath, but I couldn't understand them.

I introduced him to Mark. Absolute looked terrified, but he shook the creature's small hand.

He looked Moe in the eye. "You're not afraid of the Ss'sik'chtokiwij or...Mark?"

"How could I?" Moe laughed. " _It's part of the package._ "

Tido was scolding the boy for getting too close to us.

"Why do you hang around him?" I asked.

"I don't know," Absolute admitted. "I stayed with Mr. Golic because he was the closest thing I had to a father here..."

I patted him on the back.

The boy nervously approached Hosea. "Are...you a holy prophet of Shasharmazorb?"

The woman let out a laughing purr. "I am Shasharmazorb's great grandchild. Does that count?"

The boy swallowed. "Can you bring the dead back to life?"

"No."

Absolute looked disappointed. "Still, milady, I'm glad you are here to guide us."

"I do not wish to guide you. If I were not inhabiting this body, I would be tempted to consider your large bulk as a more than adequately filling meal."

The boy looked crushed. The other cultists laughed at him.

"Don't take it so hard," I said. "She's weird."

"I still think she's just a person," Moe agreed. "One that's a few sandwiches short of a picnic basket."

Absolute announced he had to go to the bathroom.

Song stopped him on the way to the exit. _"Annyong haseyonikka."_

He said something back in Korean, then, in English, "What's the deal with your ears?"

 _"I don't know,"_ she teased. " _What is the deal_ with your waist line?"

"Sorry," he stammered.

"It is okay." She poked his belly.

They chatted in Korean some more.

Fiat seemed to be in a perpetual state of catatonia, numbly staring into space or at Ss'sik'chtokiwij all the time. I tried to strike up a conversation with him, but he never said a word.

One time he waved at Caitlyn, but didn't speak. I didn't know what to think.

When Ippi caught him staring at her, she said, "What's your problem, kid?"

The boy didn't say anything.

Moe returned from his shower. His clothes looked exactly the same, but his face looked a lot less dirty.

Ippi pointed her tail in Moe's direction. "Is he your boyfriend?"

 _"He's male and a friend,"_ I said.

Her voice became hushed. "If you're not close, I wouldn't pursue it any further. Where I come from, we have a word called Rabhevua, `Tail Cutter'. It means someone who can't be trusted, someone who will stab you in the back when it suits them."

"Think what you want," said Moe. "But my loyalties aren't to the company anymore. They're with Ellie."

Mark, as he had done since his rescue, stayed close to me, clinging to my metaphorical apron strings, staring at the other aliens like this were his first day at school.

"You were bold back at the park," I said. "What happened?"

"That was my brother," he said. "I'm the shy one."

At first, Caitlyn had been a little scared too, but now she had gotten used to it. She even tolerated Mark's prickly body when it curled up next to her.

Moe gave the drowsy child a fatherly smile as he tucked her in.

Caitlyn's finger emerged from the blanket, pointing to Lovelace. "So she's really your school teacher?"

I nodded. _"She was._ "

 _"I know what you mean,"_ she sighed. "They're always changing them every time a new module comes out. What module did you get to?"

I stared at her. "What do you mean?"

"I got to module 280," she said with pride. "I would have gotten to 281, but I could never get past that final boss."

I furrowed my brow in confusion. "It's a video game?"

She gave me a look that said, "Why wouldn't it be?"

 _"Yeah?"_

"That...doesn't sound very educational."

She didn't even bat an eye. She just sat up and said, with complete confidence, "Nintendo University is an accredited educational system that provides the children of today with the essential knowledge and skills required for the careers of tomorrow."

It sounded like a script.

Lovelace, who had noticed us talking about her, had drawn in close during the conversation, listening in. "That's something students are trained to say to the auditors so the school retains funding and their football program."

Caitlyn suddenly looked sad. "You have to get to level 390 by age 14 or you can't qualify for the medical employment modules." She started crying. "I'm never going to be a nurse! It's not fair!"

I pulled her close and hugged her. "That's not how it works, honey. Education is not a game. If you study hard enough, you can still be a doctor or a nurse."

"I'm afraid you're wrong," Lovelace said. "The American Board of Medical Professionals has a deal with Nintendo. A student has to complete level 900 to qualify for the nursing edutainment programs. And even after that, a nurse doesn't get to touch a patient until they complete roughly four hundred modules. They have to go through a recertification module every week or lose their licenses."

"So...what," I said. "They have to play Super Mario to get a job?"

"Not Super Mario," Caitlyn said. " _Cerebro_. You're in a city and you go on quests. Sometimes you fight monsters or aliens or steal cars. You have to get a job and answer quiz questions all the time."

"The medical software isn't any better," said Lovelace. "They give you the impression that there are clear cut answers to every health problem. Nurses have to keep trying the modules until they `get it right.'"

"I don't understand," I said. "If you taught... _out there,_ what did you really do?"

"Programming, mostly. Well, writing text for existing programs. And ten minutes of every day have to be devoted to real time instruction in reality. Most teachers just read out of a book."

Her face developed an expression like she'd just eaten something spoiled. "I always gave more than twenty. Nobody liked me for that. I think that's really why they reported me. I made them think."

Caitlyn was now giving me this grin like I were some kind of Amish grandmother with a butter churn. "What was _your_ school like?"

You left out the word `grandma', I thought.

And then another thought troubled me. My education had officially stopped at middle school.

Oh well. A freak like me didn't need a diploma.

"We actually had desks and classrooms and studied textbooks all the time."

"Wow! How did you keep from getting bored?"

"We didn't."

Now she _really_ looked at me like I were someone's grandmother.

Absolute, who was lurking behind the chair, suddenly chimed in. "I got to level 310."

"What was the central focus of the Civil War?" Lovelace asked.

Absolute answered, "Slavery."

"And...?"

The boy looked at the woman like she just asked him why Christopher Columbus landed on the moon. "What do you mean `and'? That's all it was about!"

Nonverbally, Lovelace was telegraphing, "You see what I have to deal with?"

"The war wouldn't have been fought at all, if there hadn't also been a conflict about the Intercontinental Railroad. While it's true that the abolishment of slavery created a hardship for the south, due to the drastic loss of labor, it wasn't the only reason why the war was fought."

Absolute frowned. "What, are you a racist or something?"

"No, I'm just interested in education."

We got settled.

Charon, who had initially stared at the aliens like they were zoo exhibits, had now grown somewhat used to the sight and now only regarded them with a wary calm.

Song, being still somewhat afraid of Ss'sik'chtokiwij, kept to the corner of the room. She avoided the other human beings as well. I would have thought she would have hung out with Willie or Lovelace because they were somewhat normal, but she didn't even want to be with them.

Pillow and Ippi chatted with each other in Wava, appearing to have established an uneasy truce. At times they indicated the Ss'sik'chtokiwij in their conversations by the way they pointed their tails (or tail stump).

Big Bird, occupied with watching the perimeter and various unseen tasks in her brain, did not socialize, she only quietly observed our group in between searches.

On a sofa, Lovelace pretended to read a book she had found somewhere, _The Face_ by Dean Koontz, but it was clear she was only trying to act nonchalant. She made it a point to keep her feet off the floor, like the Ss'sik'chtokiwij were mice and somehow wouldn't hurt her if she kept her legs up.

She also shrank back whenever Tido walked by.

Willie looked similarly unsettled, like he were trapped in a lion cage at a zoo.

Mark seemed to adjust to his `classmates', well adjusted enough to lie down next to them. She seemed happy enough to nuzzle against her `sister' Caitlyn, though I could tell the latter found it a bit like snuggling a porcupine.

Fiat did nothing but stare blankly, not talking to anyone, except a few mutterings to his fellow cult members. Sometimes he and Guessica held hands.

Hosea was prone to aimless wandering. She came into the throne room at odd times, chattering away with the Ss'sik'chtokiwij in our tongue. She pretty much acted like nobody else existed.

I heard her and Lammy asking the other Ss'sik'chtokiwij for an explanation about why the cult existed, but no one could give a satisfactory answer. They also discussed Ippi and the merits of owning humans as pets.

After a long talk with Hosea, they all agreed that being put in a human body, while interesting in its sensations, was as horrifying as it was crippling.

The cultists were in awe, speaking to one another like they had just witnessed a miracle.

Well, everyone except Absolute, who just stared at the woman.

Tido was clearly in love with Hosea now. He made attempts at very worshipful flirtations, but his mythological overtones didn't appeal to the woman, and neither did the hints at sex. He kept a respectful distance, out of fear of his god, but he remained in constant contact with her, verbally, petitioning her for blessings from Ernie's grandmother.

Eventually she told him to stop, and the petitioning turned silent. I could see his lips moving.

Grita was a strange character. Whenever near any of the Ss'sik'chtokiwij, he would cross himself and say prayers that sounded vaguely Catholic, like the Hail Mary.

I could hear these cult members muttering prayers to her, me and Caitlyn. I wondered why they didn't talk to me directly, since prayer is talking to God, but a lot about their cult didn't make sense.

Of course, it could have just been a backwards way of petitioning Ernie's grandmother, like they addressed the spirit that possessed me rather than me.

Throughout the evening, Tido had `petitioned' me to act as an intercessory mediator, speaking to Shasharmazorb, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik and other Ss'sik'chtokiwij on his behalf, but each time I had told him he could talk to them just as well as I could, so I guess that's why he resorted to this strange prayer thing.

Of course, this wasn't nearly as strange as when he'd uttered prayers and touched Big Bird, or kissed her hand, addressing her as `The Thing Blessed by Divinity.'

Pillow had a pitying look on her face as she watched them, but said nothing.

"Baaa!" Willie mocked. "You're all sheep!"

A second later, Tido was up on his feet, setting his blade against the man's jugular.

Willie's Adam's apple bobbed. His eyes bulged wide. He slowly raised his empty hands.

Tido gave him a wolfish smile, putting the knife away.

Recovering from the shock, Willie pulled out his map, showing it to Big Bird. The two compared notes, pointing to various sites. I listened in, but it didn't tell me anything much of use, at least not at the present moment.

Lammy purred and rubbed against the android's leg, scaring him off. "Thank you for freeing us."

"Affection reciprocated," Big Bird replied.

Ippi slapped her on the back. "All right, robot. _Entertain._ "

Knowing what I did about the android, I said, "Are you sure you should be talking to her like that?"

"It's okay," said Ippi. "We're buddies, aren't we Big Bird?"

 _"Besties,"_ Big Bird agreed.

She used her mechanical vocal chords to `sing' a recording of Redbone's _Witch Queen of New Orleans,_ accompanied with saucy interpretive dance.

"Bravo!" Moe said, clapping appreciatively. "Now do a stripper dance to _She's My Cherry Pie!_ "

"No," Big Bird said. "I don't feel like it. Plus, you will make your mate unhappy."

"My mate!" I cried. "He's not my-!"

"See? She doesn't care. It's just for laughs. You can do _Rebel Yell_ if you want."

"No. I refuse to do it."

"Whatever," he groaned.

Fiat tugged on her arm, whispering something to her.

The android smiled and sang Neal Young's _After the Gold Rush_.

Julia and Lacethanny connected worms with each other, practicing mind to mind communication with themselves. They lay like this for a few minutes before breaking off the link, muttering about keeping watch.

After doing a thorough check of the house and finding nothing amiss, Julia tried to do the same link with Mark, but Mark refused. "I prefer verbal communication," he said.

And then, when Julia approached Moe, "Same here."

Julia asked Mrs. Barnes next.

"No thank you. I have no desire to see what my husband did, and reopen old wounds."

"How about sharing with me?" Lacethanny asked. "I could not possibly have been present at the events you speak of."

"You interfaced with Sarah," Julia pointed out. "You still received the memories."

Lacethanny frowned. "Ah. You are right."

"Why is this so important?" Pillow asked.

"It is a deep personal communication that does not use words."

Pillow frowned. "I can't be distracted from watching the babies."

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij peered at Quana, tilting her head in a way that indicated she wished to join minds with her.

"You leave my babies alone," she said. "I have faced mind invading aliens before, and I don't appreciate their intrusion."

Lacethanny apologized, moving on to Song.

The Korean shook her big eared head. "Maybe later." But I could tell it was actually a no.

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij turned to Ippi with an expression that seemed hopeful.

"No way."

"I'll do it," said Sharad.

"Sharad," Pillow scolded. " _Yok._ You already know too much as it is." And the two debated the issue in Wava.

Sharad sighed, nodding in resignation.

"I'm just dying to know," Willie said to the Abreya girl. "Did the bullies at school ever tie your eyeballs in a knot?"

"No. Why would they do that?"

 _"It seems like a funny prank."_

 _"It sounds disrespectful."_

 _"And amusing."_ Willie limped off.

Julia and Lacethanny tried to `mind meld' with me, but I told her I needed to stay alert and aware of my surroundings. "I'd really like to know more, but this isn't a good time."

Since Lovelace stood nearby, watching the two like a nervous tourist on safari, Julia turned to face her. "I heard you were a teacher."

The woman swallowed. "I _have_ taught school..."

"I am seeking to expand my knowledge of human life. Can I share minds with you?"

The woman paled. "No!"

Tido shoved the woman into a wall, growling threats as he clamped a hand to her neck, right hand raising its knife in a threatening fashion. "You dare refuse our Lord?"

I rushed in between them. "Whoa! Stop!"

He looked at me with dismay. "Milady. Ms. Sibers, I-"

"I know," I groaned. "She didn't want to join minds, and she _smelled false_. Still. _No!_ "

He put the knife away. "As you wish."

It seemed Willie had seen enough. Without a word, he crept out of the room, then bolted through the foyer, exiting the house.

"Hey!" I shouted, but it was too late.

I heard a bloodcurdling shriek, then nothing.

I rushed to the window.

The Security Spheres had gotten him. The man lay prone in the dirt, unmoving. He appeared to be dead.

He looked pale as a sheet under those floodlamps.

"Great," I said. "We can't even check if he's alive, or those things will get us."

"Allow me," Big Bird said.

I nodded. "Be careful."

"Carefulness is the foundation of my programming."

The android rushed out in a gap between the Security Spheres, checking the man's vitals. The other machines hovered threateningly, but didn't touch her.

Big Bird looked up at me, shaking her head.

When she returned to the building, one of the giant orbs had already carried the man's body away.

Guessica, upon seeing all this, got up off her knees, and in a tremulous voice, said, "Please, O great god, share your mind with me." And she prostrated herself before the Ss'sik'chtokiwij, spreading her arms.

Purring, Julia climbed into her lap, inserting her worms into the child's nose.

The two collapsed on the floor, going into the trance.

A few minutes later, Guessica broke the connection sobbing uncontrollably, and shivering all over.

She got up and fled the room screaming.

There were murmurs among Tido's flock.

 _"The tongue of Shasharmazorb is a double edged sword that cuts to the quick,"_ the man cried in awe.

None of the other three children volunteered.

"What did she see?" I asked.

"Some very bad things that happened in her life," Julia said. "Much sexual cruelty. I fail to understand why a human would do such a thing to a child."

She shook her head sadly. "She thought I could bring back the dead and heal her. When I showed her Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik's memories of Ss'sik'chtokiwij death, the shock was too much for her to bear. That, and my intrusion into her painful memories."

I looked at Tido expectantly. "She's your...sheep. Aren't you going to do something?"

"She's on a journey of self exploration. One does not interfere with this."

I went out to the foyer and found her in a corner, curled in a fetal ball.

"Hey," I ventured.

Her reply came out in a croak. "Go away."

I came closer, but she ran away from me, into another area of the house.

I returned to the throne room, and found the cultists worshiping Julia.

When Guessica at last rejoined our party, it was in Pillow's company, the Abreya holding her and speaking comforting words as the girl cried.

She looked a little disgusted by Julia, but I think she knew that the trauma was caused by facing unpleasant realities, so wasn't too overly mad at her.

"Let me get this straight," Ippi said. "You can get information from people's minds with those worms?"

Julia nodded. "I have learned much. I have gathered much information about the child's family, history and employment. Why?"

Ippi rubbed her hands together. "That's perfect! I need you to do that same thing with Jennifer. Root around in there and gather as much information as you can."

"About which subject?"

"Anything she doesn't want you to know, about the island, the organization, anything we'd have to otherwise torture out of her."

Jen-Jen growled muffled protests through her gag.

"That doesn't sound like a very Christian thing to do."

Ippi fixed her eyes on the Ss'sik'chtokiwij's shell. " _Do you want off this island or not?_ "

Julia made a confused dog noise, turning to me for my advice.

"Do it," I said. "We need as much information out of her as we can get."

"Allow me," Lacethanny said, stepping around her kin. "There is much I wish to know about this organization."

Jennifer tried to fight her off, but the Ss'sik'chtokiwij crawled up on the woman's barrel chest. She soon had wiggling ssujmarrux squirming up her nostrils.

For a time, the two lay there on the floor, twitching and spasming, but then something went horribly wrong, and Jennifer was going into what appeared to be a violent epileptic fit, blue foam pouring out of her mouth.

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij thrashed, shrieked and retreated from her, watching with stunned horror as the human convulsed and coughed up blood.

Big Bird rushed to her side, making thorough examinations, taking Jennifer's temperature, blood pressure and other vitals via sensors built into her fingers.

She frowned. "These are tell-tale signs of a brain plug. The poison capsule release system attached to the victim's cerebellum, activated by a remote system. There is nothing we can do."

Jen-Jen thrashed, coughed up blood, and died.

And then I heard the most horrible words coming out of the Ss'sik'chtokiwij's mouth:

"Oh my God! Did I just watch myself die?"

Lovelace pointed to a bubble mounted on the ceiling. "See that? They've been watching us the whole time. They must have heard we were trying to pry secrets out of her and blew her brain plug."

I felt a sinking in the pit of my stomach. "Who else has these... _plugs?_ "

Nobody could tell me, not even Big Bird.

"What the fuck did they do to my body?" the Ss'sik'chtokiwij cried. "Oh my God!"

She then growled, addressing what appeared to be thin air. "I didn't ask you, you disgusting alien creep! _This is all your fault!_...No _you_ should be in there! _You're_ the one that killed me! I tried to tell you to stay away and keep out of my head, that the people in charge wouldn't like it, but _no_ , you didn't take the gag out of my mouth, so I couldn't tell you! And now I'm dead!"

She smacked her head with her claw several times, then made a strangling growling sound, running from window to window.

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij leapt up on a sill of the nearest open one, jumping outside.

A second later, one of the Security Spheres rolled over her, and she disappeared shrieking into the night.

"Well," Ippi remarked. "I can't say I'm going to miss her."


	53. Chapter 53: Dracula's Tower

I squinted at the view out the window. "See the Purple Rat out there anywhere?" I asked the android. "Any armed kids?"

"Negative," Big Bird said. "I have rerouted several video and sound feeds. This may account for the delay. That, and possibly human arrogance. I have observed, in her previous exchanges with fellow employees, certain headstrong tendencies which undermine quality organizational performance.

"It is very possible, therefore, that she has refused to intervene, in order to prove a point about her own personal leadership effectiveness."

 _"It explains a lot,"_ said Moe.

The events we had witnessed shook us all emotionally, but Tido became completely unhinged, ranting about how what we witnessed was a miracle on the level of Christ walking on water and raising the dead. He incorporated it into his own personal mythology.

His followers seemed to blindly accept this, but Moe made the sounds of a kookoo clock. I and the others not in the cult tried hard not to laugh.

"She's _really_ going to get a taste of her own medicine now," Ippi remarked. " _Hope she likes her cage!_ "

"But we've lost Lacethanny!" Absolute cried.

"Worse," I said. "Now our friend can no longer be trusted. When we take off, she'll have to be left behind."

The boy paled. "What are we going to do now? We _needed_ a strong Ss'sik'chtokiwij like her!"

"It can't be helped. It isn't our fault that they killed the woman in the middle of their mind connection."

The android lit up a cigarette and smoked it, but she soon frowned and snuffed it out, apparently due to it not having any effect.

Charon asked her for one, but the android said she only had acquired that one, to see how it felt to smoke. "It is overrated," she said.

Despite having a dead agent on the property, nobody came to do anything about it, or the deactivated robot. Not even the Purple Rat. Moe and I dragged both bodies outside, to the porch.

Moe appeared to have some expertise with crime scene cleanup, for he not only managed to clear away Jennifer's mess, he also knew how to get rid of android coolant.

Big Bird kind of weirded me out, because she gave the dead android tongue before we removed it from the room. You know, for _fiber optic information transfers_.

Since nothing more could be done about our lost companions, we set about our watches, sleeping in shifts.

A Sodibwa, in the Ss'sik'chtokiwij tongue, means a `pod' or a `herd' of Ss'sik'chtokiwij. Julia told me this as I rested.

Surrounding me where the aliens, Lammy, Mark, Julia, and Hosea, if you stretch the definition of alien a little. Moe guarded Caitlyn and I as we napped.

The cult rested nearby, mimicking the way aliens slept the best they could, when their members weren't on guard duty.

Well, not Guessica. She took a bedroom upstairs near Pillow and her kids.

Absolute slept next to Caitlyn, seeming to be more at home with us than his cult.

"Looks like you've got a new son," Moe had said.

Well, I guess we're all family in this thing.

Before turning in for the night, the boy had shown unexpected bravery, volunteering to share minds with Julia. When the two became disengaged, he said, "Wow! That was better than virtual reality!"

If only we could get the other children to relax like that.

Big Bird glanced at me, then at Caitlyn. "She is not your biological descendant, yet you claim her as your daughter. Please explain."

I said, "I care for her, Big Bird. She has nobody. She lost her parents. And, well, I love her."

The android froze in thought. "The Mara unit I am friends with has told me similar things about her relationship with Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik."

She froze again. "I noticed that you were bitter enemies with _Charon_ (she pronounced it like a foreign word), and still do not completely trust her. Please explain why you do not destroy her."

I told her about what I forgave, and why. She processed the data.

"The Holy Bible describes a limit of 490 instances of forgiveness. How close are you to that total?"

"I'm a long ways away," I said. "Besides, if you forgive a person half that much, I'm pretty sure they won't be your enemy anymore, anyway."

"I see."

When I went to the bathroom, I saw Sharad and Ippi guarding Pillow's bedroom door, you know, to make sure it didn't automatically lock from the outside or something.

"We're _Abreyas_ ," Ippi said. "I may not approve of Pillow's religion or lifestyle, but no Abreya deserves _this._ We're going to beat this thing."

I visited Pillow in her room, getting to know her a little better.

Since I hadn't had a time to hang out with her without fear of capture, I ended up explaining a lot about what had happened to me in the previous days. I told her my history, and how I came to know Charon and Lovelace.

When she heard about Moe, she became thoughtful. " _He who forgives little, loves little._ " She shook her head. "I suppose you're right. I should be thankful he only cut off my tail. I should pray for a more forgiving heart."

"So how did you get to be friends with that brute?" Pillow asked me, so I told her what happened.

She pointed at Hosea, who had just then entered the room. "Is she a friend of yours?"

"Dunno," I said. "I'm not sure what's going on with _that._ "

I briefly explained what the woman told me about the body swap.

"Sarah was trying to do something like that," Pillow said. "Only in reverse. There's a Ss'sik'chtokiwij named Newt who sincerely believes she's a human trapped in an alien body."

"I think I met her," I said.

"Oh yes. _That's right._ She told me."

Hosea, having learned to communicate with Abreyas somewhat, now found herself being assigned the task of holding Pillow's babies as the alien took care of various things.

When I returned to the hallway outside, Sharad was tugging on Ippi's tail. "Bainep Snarken?"

"Please," she laughed. "You can call me Aunt Ippi."

"Aunt Ippi, what was it like at the palace before the Susbikan took over?"

They talked in Wava for awhile. I heard Quana being mentioned a lot.

While Charon kept watch, Lovelace and Song rested in separate areas of the house, Song in a beach chair next to the pool, Lovelace on a couch in the conservatory.

Big Bird, of course, didn't need rest at all. She kept disabling the bugs hidden in the house.

I stopped briefly in the conservatory. I had a burning question that had to be answered.

"Where's Mr. Lovelace?" I asked the woman on the couch.

"I'm sure you'll meet him eventually," she said. "But it's only for the project, just like your mother and father."

"But mom and dad actually grew to love each other."

She rolled her eyes. "That's nice for _them._ "

Curiosity satisfied, I returned to the throne room.

It felt like I hadn't slept any time at all when I found Moe shaking me awake. "Hey. I just checked outside. The balls are gone."

I sat bolt upright. "We should go."

Charon was in the kitchen, brewing coffee in a machine, packing leftovers into bags and containers. She had somehow even found rucksacks to keep them in, and thermoses for the coffee.

They were children's thermoses, with pictures of things like _Star Wars, Frozen_ and _Horseland_ on them, but hey, we had coffee to go, and we needed it.

"Big Bird checked the grounds," Charon said when I entered. "I figured doping the coffee was an obvious choice after slipping everyone the Mickey, but it's clean."

She handed me a steaming mug. "I tried to give this to Pillow, but she said her liver processes things differently. _Apparently she starts the morning with a shot of whiskey._ Not such a bad way to wake up, if it works for you."

Understandably, none of us wanted to spend the morning in the building. Once everyone was roused, present and accounted for, we grabbed coffees and as many weapons and as much food as we could carry, hurrying outside.

Moe downed the contents of a _Bakugan_ thermos. "So. Where to?"

"I'm not sure," I said, taking a mouthful from a bottle with Smurfs on it. "I think the first order of business should be getting to that car lot, maybe hotwiring something so we can get to where we're going faster. The trouble is, I don't know where to go after that. Willie had the map."

Big Bird pulled the map out of her pocket, unrolling it. "I removed it from his person before the Security Spheres carried him off. As I was explaining to him previously, the map is rudimentary at best, but I have made some modifications during your resting period."

I took the piece of vinyl from her, examining it for changes. She explained the new symbols, the added road and train track lines.

"Right. Looks good. Let's go."

Julia sniffed the ground. "Wait. I smell something."

She sniffed a little more, padding away from the group like a hunting dog on the trail of a rabbit.

"Julia," I warned. "If that's Lacethanny, forget it."

 _"It is not,"_ she said, padding off in the direction of the small castle. _"The scent reminds me of Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik!"_

 _"Amos,"_ Lammy agreed. "I am familiar with her scent."

"I hope it's not a trap," I said.

"I am investigating, not performing a rescue."

"Are you sure there's really something over there? They're not gone already?"

She nodded. _"The trail is fresh._ "

She paused and sniffed the dirt again. "Three humans accompanied her."

"The only thing I'm smelling is a trap," Moe said.

"You're right," said Ippi. "We're stopping to do recon the moment we get close. The ground, the buildings, the trees, everything. Carelessness is what got me into this place to begin with. I'm not going to let it happen again."

Lovelace and the children had flashlights, but I told them to keep them off and just follow me, Hosea, or the Ss'sik'chtokiwij. Not everyone liked that idea, but with the flood lamps and the moon, everyone could manage okay in the dim light.

We crossed the side of the dirt path, wading through a field of weeds that only partly reflected North American vegetation, large portions of it competing with jungle plants. Nothing so far that could spear your foot, thankfully enough.

With an ashamed look on his face, Moe tapped Song on the shoulder and said, "Uh, hey. Sorry I ,uh, made fun of your ears earlier, you know, when you were in the _other building._ "

She looked displeased, but still said, "It is okay. As long as I can leave this place, you can call me whatever you want... _baldy._ "

Moe chuckled.

Once we had gone a fair distance into the weeds, and decided we could no longer be observed by cameras, I told Julia to halt so we could have breakfast.

"Not exactly the ideal spot," Ippi said as she pulled her shoe out of a patch of mud. "But I can guess why you picked it."

Pillow said grace and we sat on rocks, or stood as we had our leftovers.

A lot of the kids now sat together, Sharad, Absolute, Caitlyn. I thought it was cute.

Pillow gave her babies to Hosea while she got supplies out of her bag.

Earlier that night, Absolute had volunteered for the duty, but he had shuddered when she asked him to hold Haman.

"I hope this dangerous mission doesn't take too long," the Abreya said as she grabbed Quana and fed her. "I didn't bring diapers or anything."

"Forget it," said Ippi. "We're not going back."

"We'll have to make do," I said. "Whatever happens, we'll figure something out."

"I saw you two crawling around the towns," Sharad said to Julia as she ate. "I've been meaning to greet you earlier, but I didn't want to get shot."

She rubbed the Ss'sik'chtokiwij's head. "I really hope you can get us out of this place."

"I hope so too."

Big Bird stared at my spandex clad friend. "What circumstances caused you to change alliances?"

Charon's shoulders drooped. "Let's just say I don't like the person I've become."

Absolute marched over to Pillow. "Were you really friends with Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik and Shasharmazorb?"

The Abreya nodded. "It was scary at first, but they became good friends."

She told him about her history with the aliens.

We put our things away and continued on the trail of the Ss'sik'chtokiwij.

The tower soon loomed into view.

The place appeared to be deserted and crumbling, but looks could be deceiving.

Pillow had a pair of night vision binoculars. They weren't actually weapons, which is why I think they let her keep them. She said she liked to watch the animals outside with them, but she was also using them to keep tabs on the enemy.

With a little zooming of the lens, we spotted a pair of child soldiers patrolling the gate.

Moe took one look through the eyepieces and started singing that marching song from the _Wizard of Oz_. " _Oh wee oh, yoh-oh..._ "

"Shh!" I hissed.

Lovelace cocked a thumb at him. "Are you hooking up with that lummox?"

"No, but even if I were, I don't see how that's any of your business."

"Perhaps not, but _I've seen him around town. He tends to be rather rude."_

"And you tend to be kind of bitchy," Moe said.

She frowned. "His kind are made to be ruthless killing machines."

"But that's not what I feel like being," Moe said. "I'm sick of war and bloodshed. _I actually like the idea of raising kids._ " He looked at me as he said this, making me so embarrassed that I had to turn around and look elsewhere.

We quietly crept up along the wall of the tower, keeping concealed in the foliage.

And then the M35 6X6 cargo truck came roaring out of seemingly nowhere, throwing up dirt, weeds and debris as it came plowing our way, its beams exposing our position like a spotlight.

The driver was an adult male, I guess because the two children with him couldn't reach the pedals.

I hated to do it, but this was war.

"Shoot the driver!" I yelled. "Kill anyone who fights back!"

It used up all our limited ammunition, but we got the driver through the windshield.

We jumped out of the way as the truck veered out of control, smashing into the side of the tower.

The children in front were thrown rag doll fashion across the hood, blood and broken glass spraying everywhere.

Purple Rat was not among them.

I watched as Grita climbed up inside the canvas covered bed, knife drawn. Someone let out a gurgling screech.

Light flashed beneath the canvas. I heard the sound of automatic gunfire.

Seconds later, an army of children jumped out, pointing assault rifles at everyone in my team.

Their leader appeared from the back, looking smugly self confident.

"I always knew that cocky fat bitch would fail," Purple rat said as she waved around a Yaotija blaster. _"Looks like it's my turn._ "

She gestured to the gate. _"I see you're interested in The Keep. Good. I'd be glad to show you around."_

Purple Rat chambered what appeared to be a magazine on the weapon. "Get moving, bitch."

We turned to go.

 _"Not you, Mrs. Lovelace,"_ Purple Rat said.

The girl nodded to her troops. "Take our friend back to her cabin. Use the good Hummer."

To the woman, she said, "What would you like tonight? Chinese? Country western? Mexican?"

"Get me some of that barbecue," Lovelace replied.

"Wait," I said. "What the hell is going on?"

"Tell her," Purple Rat said to the woman.

Lovelace pulled out her phone. "Your android friend deactivated all the bugs in the building, _so we had to improvise a little._ " She waved the phone mockingly. "This satphone is _very sensitive_. You'd be _amazed_ what it can pick up."

I had noticed Charon and the others looking at the woman with suspicion, but I hadn't thought anything of it at the time.

"I'm confused," I said. "You broadcasted our conversations, so they're _rewarding_ you for it?"

"No," said Purple Rat. " _I'm_ rewarding her, because she helped me get Jen-Jen out of the way."

"I detected an electronic signal coming from your person," Big Bird said. "But when I approached you, the signal stopped. And then you avoided me."

"It was very clever how they programmed my phone. Although I can dial out, the board ultimately controls when and where the device shuts off, activates and transmits. There's also a cute little feature that stops the signal whenever a specific droid's GPS signature gets too close."

 _"Boss mode,"_ Moe quipped.

"Anyhow," said Purple Rat. " _Now that there's a vacancy_ , I'm sure to get promoted. You know what Abe Lincoln said. ` _A rising tide lifts all boats.'_ "

"I'm pretty sure that was Reagan," I said.

"Who?"

 _"It was John F. Kennedy,"_ Lovelace corrected.

"Please, woman," said Purple Rat. "Can the act. You never taught a real school in your life."

"Maybe not, but _I actually bother to read things._ "

I frowned. "You aren't a real teacher?"

"Not in the traditional sense. Not in the outside world, at least."

"But you said-"

" _I lied._ I embezzled some funds out of a few companies. DAMBALLAH saw I was quite good at it, so after the police slapped me on the wrists, The Board set me up with an _extended vacation_ in this little island paradise. A shame, really. I think I've gotten enough practice that I could do teaching for real."

"What about all that video game stuff you described? Was that a lie, too?"

"Oh, _that part was real enough_. Just because I'm a phony doesn't mean I'm not up on current events."

I could tell most of my team wanted to stab her to death, or rip her open, but the guns pointed in their faces served as a deterrent.

Four child soldiers surrounded her, escorting her away from us.

The woman waved goodbye. "Don't call me, Ms. Siebers. _I'll call you._ "

"I never trusted that woman," Pillow muttered as Lovelace disappeared into the field. "She seemed suspicious, but I couldn't tell why."

We were marched up to the front gate, and a group of kids raised the portcullis, allowing us entry into a sort of gatehouse.

The structure appeared to be built rather poorly, perhaps closer to the classic method of castle construction than is truly practical. The walls were slick with sweat, the condensation pooling around the floors in spots. It couldn't be good for the wiring.

The army prodded us ahead, into The Keep itself.

Another arena, this one circular as the tower, with seven gates. Its floors consisted of stone tiles, each carved with peculiar symbols.

The center of the room held one of those pillared shrine things they use to sacrifice virgins to dragons and sea gods in all those movies, and behind it, a glass cage containing a Ss'sik'chtokiwij larva.

I could see figures marching around on the upper tiers of the towers, aiming their weapons at us.

I was getting a definite Indiana Jones type vibe from the place, but I didn't have a choice about going across the floor. They had us at gunpoint, outnumbered.

Moe pointed to the shrine. "What do they got that thing for? King Kong?"

We soon found out.

The children were short, but they bullied Song with their weapons until she chained herself to the posts (Moe helped her with the last cuff).

The children backed out the way they came, closing the portcullis behind them. Thus we got trapped in the chamber.

"What now?" Moe said.

"It's just a metal gate..."

I tried to go back to melt an opening in the portcullis, but the children stuck the muzzles of their guns through the holes and fired warning shots until I retreated.

And then a cage shot out of the floor, barring our `virgin sacrifice' from immediate rescue. The bars were electrified.

Snipers above me shot in my direction until I put space between me and the cage.

Pillow looked around the chamber with unease, pressing Quana to her chest. Haman, in Hosea's arms, began to cry.

"To think," Pillow muttered. "I brought my children along for _this_!"

I froze in place, uncertain what we were in for.

 _"Figures,"_ Moe grumbled. "They can't make anything easy."

"Nobody move," I said. "This floor doesn't look safe."

"Your assessment is correct," Big Bird said. "I am sensing several primitive mechanical devices in the vicinity."

But Nathan was already stepping on one of the tiles.

A brilliant flash erupted from below his feet.

Several flashes followed in rapid succession, like a camera or a strobe light. Disoriented, the boy staggered backwards onto the next time, fell on his butt.

A gate on the far wall opposite him snapped open, and a self driving car zoomed out. I destroyed it.

After that, Ippi kept a close eye on the older boy, holding him back whenever he eluded his mother's tail. The gratefulness of the mother was clear in her facial expressions.

"Stay close, everybody," I warned. "One false step, and we might end up in a bottomless chasm, or getting our heads cut off, or maybe run over by another car."

Nobody disagreed.

Well, except Hosea.

Ignoring my advice, she prodded a nearby tile with her bare foot.

The moment the square of stone depressed, a spinning flashing disco ball popped out of the wall, and music came blaring out a set of speakers.

 _"Macho macho man...!"_

"Hosea!" I scolded.

I glanced at Charon. "What's your green book say about this?"

She shrugged. "Stay off the floor tiles or you're fucked. There was a diagram showing the safe zones, but I skipped over it. _I had this crazy idea that I wouldn't actually have to use that knowledge._ "

"So you're actually useless as an asshole on my elbow," Moe said.

"Look, pinhead. Just because I haven't memorized every square inch of the island doesn't mean I'm a throwaway."

Since I couldn't help Song, I skirted the cage, hurrying to the small glass box containing the Ss'sik'chtokiwij.

The moment I got close, the larva disappeared in a puff of smoke.

A gate to the north opened, and I had to destroy another runaway car.

It seemed this model and the one before it were not as original as the ones I'd faced previously. I found the control modules right away and shut them down before anyone got hurt.

I called Julia over to where the cage was. "Where do you think she went?"

She looked like she was staring. "You are part Ss'sik'chtokiwij. Do you not have the same olfactory powers as I?"

"I probably do," I admitted. "I just didn't think I knew how to use them as well as you. Plus human beings look weird when they go around sniffing things like a dog."

"You shouldn't be afraid to `look weird.' It may be your only route to freedom." Then she purred. "However, _I do appreciate the compliments._ "

When Julia sniffed the area where the cage had been, she got shot with a water cannon.

"She was never here," she said, shaking herself dry. "Not in this part of the building, at least. That was a... _device._ "

 _"A hologram,"_ I said with a frown.

"Wait." Julia sniffed a nearby tile.

"Be careful. There could be anything here. You might end up in a bear trap."

"I smell another device. And a human."

A figure in a yellow suit and tophat appeared out of nowhere. I saw only his back.

Thinking this was Zack doing another one of his tricks, I reached for him. "Hey-"

The moment I touched him, he exploded in a cloud of pigeons and disappeared, leaving hos clothing behind. A sinister laugh echoed through the chamber.

"What did we ever do to you!" I yelled.

More laughter.

"Here!" Julia said.

She sniffed her way toward the eastern gate, which was still open.

I waved the others over to it.

Don't ask me why the car didn't activate any trapdoors or hidden switches. Maybe they had switches _for_ those switches.

I ordered everyone to march in single file, behind me.

Caitlyn and Mark huddled close, watching the area with fearful eyes. I heard Tido and Fiat saying prayers to Shasharmazorb.

Guessica and Absolute stood apart from them, nervously clutching each other's hands.

Sharad and Ippi stayed close to Pillow, Sharad holding Haman.

Charon's hands were trembling. "Damn. I wish I had a cigarette."

"Sorry," I said. " _Fresh out._ "

"But just think about how healthy you'll be after all of this!" said Moe.

"Something tells me it isn't lung cancer that's going to kill me."

Hosea sniffed the air. "Damn this useless human nose."

Getting tired of traps, I prodded the next square with my foot, rather than stepping all the way onto it.

A series of metal panels opened along the stone walls, releasing hundreds of rats into the chamber.

It seemed they had been starving for some time, for they soon came rushing at us, teeth bared.

"Holy shit!" Charon cried, smashing a biting rodent with her cane.

Fiat got frightened, ran toward the gate where the car had burst from, and immediately triggered a springloaded tile that threw him backwards through the air.

The tile he landed on erupted in flame, burning his face and setting his clothing on fire. He screamed.

"Stop drop and roll!" Moe shouted.

The boy obeyed.

I grabbed him. "Are you all right?"

"What do you think!" he moaned. "But I'll live, if that's what you want to know."

I sighed. "Sorry."

Guessica stabbed as many rats as she could with her knives. Fiat, despite being burned, did the same, Tido defending them both with his boots, and knives of his own. Ippi and Sharad joined them in the stabbing.

Julia and Lammy, of course, just shredded through them.

Mark helped out, killing as many as he could with his spines and claws.

Charon kicked them like footballs with her good leg, clubbed them with her cane like she were playing golf, stomped some to death.

Pillow, being a little more squeamish, shrank back from the rats, kicking them away only when they got close, like they were some kind of endangered species that shouldn't be killed.

The rodents, uninterested in synthetic materials, ignored Big Bird completely, attacking only when she stomped them or crushed them in her hands.

At least a dozen attacked _me_. When they came my way, I bit them in half, killed them with my mouth claw.

"Didn't you eat enough at breakfast?" Moe joked after stomping a couple rats under his boot.

"Ha ha," I said.

Caitlyn, attempting to imitate me, grabbed a couple rats herself, putting them to her mouth, but I snatched them away. "Stop. You'll get sick."

 _"That's what my old mommy said about smoking, but she still did it."_

"Your old mommy may have been wrong about a lot of things, but it sounds like she got _at least a few things right._ " 

"Why won't it make _you_ sick, mommy?"

"Because mommy is part alien, honey."

"It's not fair," she complained. " _I_ want to be part alien."

"And _I_ want to be fully human. We have to be content with who we are.""

She looked sad, but nodded.

Unlike the rest of us, Absolute had given the rats some of his food from his pack, keeping a couple as pets.

As much as we hated to do it, the rest of us did the same, dumping all our food on the floor. The rats left us alone after that, give or take a couple that had been bullied out of the feast.

I realized the rats might come for Song when the food ran out, but there wasn't much I could do about it.

"Quick," I said. "Through the gate."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Moe asked.

"You got a better one?"

We hurried in.

A second later, Big Bird's head blew up.

"Big Bird!" I screamed.

Gunfire erupted through the corridor. We all dropped on our stomachs.

Pillow's babies were crying at being thrust so forcefully to the floor, but their mother was more interested in keeping them alive than worrying about a few bruises.

I'm sure Caitlyn didn't like _me_ shoving her to the floor either, but when the bullets flew, she understood.

It was one of those drone machines. The type that had attacked me on the Disney barge.

A large "coexist" bumper sticker had been slapped across the front of the machine, the fresh glittering black lines on the cross, Star of David, star and crescent and Yin Yang telling me that old oxymorons die hard.

Bullets filled the air like a swarm of angry bees.

"I'm doing the world a favor," a girl's voice said through the machine's amplified front speakers. "You and your people symbolize all that is wrong in America. Intolerance, hate, bigotry, sexist women oppressing belief systems...I'll be happy when you're all dead!"


	54. Chapter 54: Mr Rook

The machine kept shooting.

"Sacrilege!" Tido shouted. "They destroy the sacred instrument of God!"

"Shit!" Moe cried. "And us with nothing to fight back with!"

"Maybe..." Lammy turned her face toward Mark.

Mark nodded. "...Maybe not."

It was then that I remembered how the two had talked about their skills and abilities during our little rest the night before.

The creatures rushed beneath the legs of the machine, Mark climbing around and up top, swinging the still firing gun skywards, Lammy clawing and melting open panels on its undercarriage.

The machine went dark, its legs collapsing.

I rushed to the android's side. _"Big Bird!"_

Julia and Lammy looked sorrowful. "It was a nice, friendly machine. Much more agreeable than other devices of a similar nature."

Tido uttered prayers for Shasharmazorb's wrathful vengeance to be unleashed.

I wept.

"Cool it," Moe urged. "She's just a robot."

"She's self aware! She's unique! Someone just destroyed the very core of her being!"

 _"You watch too many movies,_ " Ippi said. "Your boyfriend is right. She's a machine. Maybe not _just any old machine_ , but a machine, nonetheless."

I was crying. "That doesn't make me feel any better."

"Yeah? How about this one? Only primitive organic creatures require a head."

"Damn!" Moe said with a grin. " _She's right_! Mara Mark Four units keep their CPU's inside their chest cavity!"

As if she could hear us, the headless android rolled onto her back, opening her rib cage like it were merely a tool box.

In the center, surrounded by a mechanical heart and lung, lay a baseball sized device, shaped like a pumpkin seed, surrounded by wires, with flash drives plugged into its USB ports. Synthetic fingers pointed to the drives.

When the hand pulled one out, the body connected to it no longer moved.

Tido tried to grab the device, but I snatched it away before he could put it on an altar, or in a glass case, or whatever useless thing he intended to do with it.

The android had gripped delicately, so I had no trouble prying that first one from her fingers. I stuffed both drives into my pockets. "Well, Big Bird, I hope you're in here somewhere, otherwise I'm really going to miss you."

Then I frowned. "So... _that Bishop machine...he could still be alive too?_ "

"Ever hear of _data recovery?_ Sharad only destroyed Bishop's (for lack of of a better term) hard drive enclosure."

I swallowed. " _So he could come back._ "

"Theres _tons_ of those models out there. We're never going to kill them all. If you want to get on that ship and fly the hell out of here, we'll need to play this like football. Fuh..." He glanced at Caitlyn. "... _screw_ conquering the stadium. Just get to the end zone."

"Agreed," Ippi said, killing some rats that had followed us. "Fuck the stadium."

A rodent sunk its teeth into Guessica's ankle. She stabbed it. "Did you mean the island, or the entire world?"

"Both."

Since I knew we'd be needing it later, I also took the map from her pocket, tucking it into my army pants.

"Let's keep going," I said. "Julia, are you still getting something?"

She nodded. "The scent goes straight ahead."

Moe attempted to remove the gun from the drone, but it had been firmly bolted to the housing.

"I'll melt the weapon free for you," Lammy said. "You go. I'll catch up."

I nodded, thanking her. "If you see someone or something coming, you leave the gun and you move. Don't get caught. Run straight for us."

Pillow now carried Quana in the stump of her tail, like an opossum, cautiously advancing, her eyes searching the corridor for the next deadly attack. Ippi, with some reluctance, took Haman, tail cocooning him in similar fashion. Nate clung to her back, small legs straddling her hips. They were making themselves human (or should it be Abreyan?) shields to protect the children.

Oddly enough, despite the burden, they still managed to keep up with the group.

The corridor was wide and slanted, traveling in a corkscrew around the tower, like the pedestrian ramps at certain sports stadiums, except with walls made of unstable looking rock. Sections of it resembled ramparts or balconies, others like giants' teeth, blocky stone buildings with barred cel doors.

When I passed one of these cubes, a green shape leapt from the shadows, throwing me into a wall.

"Where is she!"

For the first time, I had a good look at the creature.

The thing squeezing my neck was reptilian, but humanoid in shape. It had horns and a thick saurian tail. For clothing, it wore nothing but a black thong. He had the physique of a boxer.

Caitlyn shrank back, too afraid to do anything.

"What are you?" I gasped. "Alien? Alien hybrid?"

"Shut up!" the creature growled through a set of very human looking teeth. "Where's song?"

"Hey!" Moe yelled. "Hands off my girlfriend!"

His fist connected with the reptile's jaw.

Ippi quickly passed the babies to the children, preparing to fight.

The reptile snapped a punch, dropping Moe to the floor, but Tido came at him with a right hook, Ippi kicked the creature in the crotch, and then, when Moe brushed himself off and got back up for round two, and Charon swung her cane, _my attacker_ was on the floor.

His tail shot out, knocking Ippi down.

His claw foot immobilized Moe with a groin kick, and in a flash the beast was in a fighting stance, one hand clenched in a fist, the other poised in a karate knife hand.

The reptile appeared to have some sort of martial arts training, for a second later, he had managed to knock my friends out of the way and press me to the wall again, claws clamped around my neck.

Of course, Pillow's babies gave us an added handicap

Charon _had,_ at least,attempted to strike him with her cane, but the reptile had snapped it in half. Fortunately, the woman appeared to be capable of at least limping without it.

Sharad tried to rush the attacker, but Pillow grabbed her daughter by the tail, pulling her away.

Mark jumped on the reptile's back, but he just grabbed my son by his nape and hurled him across the hall, returning his claws to my throat.

Hosea sniffed and crept past this melee, sneaking off down the corridor. Tido seemed to notice this, but I guess he decided the strategy should be keeping the opponent at bay while the quarterback hurried to the goal.

I saw my friends drawing knives now. Moe, Ippi, the children who weren't encumbered with infants.

Lammy skittered around his other side, preparing to strike.

"Stop," I hissed to them. "Don't kill him."

The creature's yellow eyes shot back at the glistening blades. "The first one that tries will get their own blade shoved through their neck!...Or through your friend's!"

"Are you _positive_ I shouldn't kill him _?_ " Julia asked in Ss'sik'chtokiwij.

"No," I replied. "Stay back."

The reptile snorted. "What the hell is that?"

"She's a Ss'sik'chtokiwij. She's a friend."

"And Our Lord," Tido said. "Do not provoke her to wrath, and do not presume upon your own strength, for she knows when you intend to strike, and will end your life before the first muscle flexes."

Ian laughed. _"I'll take my chances."_

He glanced at Mark. "And that thing?"

 _"My son,"_ I said.

"My condolences."

Quana cried.

Pillow, looking annoyed, bounced the baby, marching up to my attacker. "Now see what you've done!"

The reptile's eyes narrowed when he saw her. "You!"

Pillow chuckled. "So _that's_ what you look like without that grimy window in the way."

"What did you do with Song?" he asked.

"I didn't do anything. We're all prisoners, same as you. If you want to see her, she's down on the first floor." She explained the situation with the cage.

"Let me guess," Moe said. " _This is the boyfriend._ "

"It's _Ian_ , right?" I asked.

The creature let out a low growl. _"It was._ Where is the key?"

I shrugged. "Why are you asking us? We're on a rescue mission of our own, and no one's telling us a damn thing."

Ian paused to consider this. "Help me with my rescue mission and I'll help you with yours."

I glanced at my companions.

Moe shook his head. Ippi mouthed no.

"Maybe once we've rescued our friend," I suggested. "We'll look upstairs, and see if there's a way to help her."

"How do I know you'll come back for her?"

"You don't," Ippi said. "How do we know we can trust you?"

"Save Song first, _then I will save your friend!_ "

"What if we split up?" I asked.

"That's what they want us to do. Split us up so we're easier to imprison. Just like it's easier to capture us when we're downstairs in their little Thunderdome."

"I've already been up here," Ian snarled. "I've found nothing!"

"There's a Ss'sik'chtokiwij scent here," I said. " _I'd call that something._ "

He only growled at this.

I glanced at Charon for advice.

"We don't know if we can trust him," she said. "He'll only slow us down."

Ippi nodded. "If you're going our way, we'll think about it. Otherwise, you're wasting our time, and you can take a hike... _mole_!"

Ian grabbed her by the throat. "You take that back!"

Ippi wasn't scared at all. "I'm just calling it as I see it. _You're either an idiot, or you're working with them!_ "

Scaly hands clenched tighter around her throat. "Take it back!"

Ippi rammed her foot into his groin, which actually caused him pain.

Now, the walls of this tower were crumbling in places, so while Ian was busy choking Ippi, Fiat pegged the reptile in the head with a chunk of rock, then a thermos.

When our enemy turned to attack, Moe punched and punched again. Sharad jumped up and threw in a few attacks of her own.

Tido came in with a head shot of his own, and the rest of us beat Ian unconscious.

We left him on the floor, rushing on up the corridor.

I felt bad about it, but we'd already had several spies in our midst, so it didn't seem outside the realm of possibility.

A tell-tale whistling made the hairs on my neck stand up.

"Get down!" Moe yelled.

A machine gun drone came flying in from the ceiling, filling the air with bullets. We'd dropped just a second before it had opened fire.

Caitlyn didn't think, she dropped down immediately.

The cultists, of course, had this kind of thing ingrained, though Absolute came closest to having his head blown off.

"You people claim to love God so much, so I'm sending you to her!" a voice said through the drone's speakers. "Enjoy your stay in hell, you Nazis!"

The drone spun around, tilted at an angle, chipping the floor tiles. Fiat moved his legs, narrowly avoiding nasty wounds to vital arteries.

I had been too busy trying not to die to notice right away that Mark had left my side.

But then I heard him let out an animal shriek.

I glanced back, thinking he'd been shot, but found out then that it had been a war cry, and he now clung to the top of the drone, clawing at its propeller housing.

I stared in amazement as my adopted son flashed a curving spear from his wrist, ramming it through the top of the machine.

And then Hosea popped out from behind the concealment of a rough stone pilaster, beating the back of the machine with a rock.

The lights on the drone extinguished, and it crashed into a wall, machine gun still firing, pulverizing the faces of the surrounding rocks into dust.

The machine stopped firing, becoming immobile.

I rushed over to the alien boy. "Mark! Are you all right?"

He nodded.

I gawked at the spears protruding from his arms. "Why didn't you tell me you could do that?"

Mark shrugged. "It felt... _strange._ "

The drone had been designed to be versatile. A hidden catch released the machine gun portion from the rest of the unit. It even had a trigger.

Moe removed the weapon, frowning at the magazine's contents. _"Guess I'll have to make do._ "

I glanced back down the hallway we'd come from.

The unconscious reptile was gone.

We kept going.

Pillow and Ippi resumed their defensive infant carrying, though now Sharad carried the weighty Nate on his shoulders.

 _"He ain't heavy, he's my brother,"_ Moe joked.

We passed an open gate with an inclined ramp inside, presumably where the car had come from. The tunnel passed it narrowed somewhat. A car could still drive through it, but would have no place to turn around.

Everyone suddenly became hushed. Moe tapped me on the shoulder, pointing to a stone room to my immediate right.

When I saw what lay inside, I gasped, "Shit!" and retreated.

Through the glass window on a security door, I could see Yuffie seated in front of a bank of computers.

You could see everything in the building on those screens.

Yuffie's fingers hit a button, and I heard an engine roaring. On the monitor, a car came zooming out of one of the gates, speeding after our reptilian acquaintance.

He shot an assault rifle at the car's front end, but it didn't stop it.

He stepped to one side to avoid the vehicle, and tripped a hidden smoke grenade.

When the smoke cleared, I saw the driverless car slamming into the side of Song's electrified cage, knocking its bars loose.

The woman was unharmed.

It still wasn't enough to get her out.

I didn't have time to see what happened next, for in the following moment I saw a drone on tank treads rolling down the tunnel with amazing rapidity.

The drone had tank treads, but it moved _fast_.

"Cover me," I hissed to Moe.

With a nod, he opened fire on the tank thing, and I set to work. The Ss'sik'chtokiwij scampered around it, melting it in places.

Hosea slithered on her stomach, creeping away from the skirmish. I didn't see where she got to after that.

Yuffie's command center didn't have a computerized lock. It was just one of those maintenance doors like they have in old parking garages. I nicked my hand, throwing blood into the crack by the door lock, presumably where the deadbolt was.

The door popped open and I rushed inside, shoving the little girl away from the desk.

She stabbed me.

I'm sure she could have said something terribly insulting to me, but she was too busy screaming about how my acidic blood had deprived her of her eyesight.

I didn't exactly feel good about what had happened, but it wasn't my fault, and I didn't feel bad enough about it to stop what I was doing. She'd live.

I stared at the computers. "How do you shut these these off?"

Yuffie only cried.

"Here. Hold this," I heard Absolute saying from the door.

I glanced back just in time to see him sticking a rat into the girl's shirt collar.

Yuffie screamed, fleeing the room like the devil were after her.

Or maybe Jesus, considering how much people in this era seem to hate him.

The sight of our enemy, disfigured as she was, so surprised my team that nobody stopped her.

On the monitors, I could see the girl stumbling down the corridor.

She slipped, fell.

And then a self driving car came speeding through the gate at the end of the tunnel.

"How do you stop that thing?" I asked Absolute.

"Why are you asking me?"

I sat down, experimenting with the keys, but they didn't respond.

"Who is controlling this?"

"I don't know."

Yuffie turned to run back the way we came, but the car was faster, breaking her over its fender, crushing her under its tires.

The car rolled over the child a couple times, then reversed into the arena.

"I guess Yuffie isn't the only one who controls those things," I muttered.

In the section of corridor outside the room, Moe, Mark and the team had succeeded in destroying the drone. They peered through the security window at me.

Still no sign of Hosea, on any of the monitors.

Yuffie's computers had USB ports. I didn't really think about it much until she was gone and I was trying to figure out how to use the system. I think, even if I had, the idea of plugging Big Bird's `soul' into machines that primitive looking didn't seem like such a good idea.

Despite my misgivings, I realized that she was twice as vulnerable and at risk of being destroyed forever if she stayed inside those little plastic cases in my pockets.

Remembering how many CD ROMS required you to insert multiple disks in order to work, I plugged both in at the same time, and waiting for them to boot up.

My companions joined me in the room, watching me.

"What's that?" Ippi asked.

I frowned. "Big Bird's consciousness... _I think._ "

Abruptly, all the screens turned black, the lights on the hard drives going dark.

"Shit, man," Ippi said. "I think you just sent her to computer hell."

Fearing what she said would actually come true, I hesitated to touch anything.

"What do we do now?" I whimpered. "I didn't mean to...I just...I mean, what if we walked under a big electromagnet or fell into a swamp..."

I wiped away tears. "She wasn't just a robot. She had her own thoughts. Individuality. She was sentient!"

Absolute pushed the power buttons on the hard drives a few times. Nothing happened. It was like...whatever it was...had blown a fuse.

Guessica and Fiat were giving me this look like I had just torn a hole in the Shroud of Turin.

"You have done wrong in the sight of Shasharmazorb," Tido said to me. "Those objects were to be _venerated_ , not profaned in some heathen instrument of sacrilege!"

"Tido!" I snapped. "I was trying to bring Big Bird back to life! This isn't something you can just _pray out!_ "

He reached for the flash drives.

"Don't!"

He withdrew quickly. "You are right, Ms. Siebers. I dare not touch these things, for if the machine has been saved, I will desecrate them with my uncleanliness, and if they have been befouled, I will not share in the flames of your eternal torment."

Hosea made a kookoo clock noise. "Was that an appropriate response for this situation?"

 _"I believe so,"_ Moe said in a hushed voice.

Pillow's babies were crying now. She bounced them, but it didn't quiet them any.

Charon wrinkled her nose when the Abreya walked by her. "Phew! Keep those things away from me! They stink!"

"I bet you wouldn't call them _things_ if they were human."

 _"You'd be surprised._ I call _any baby_ a thing if it shits and smells like that...is that older one housebroken?"

"More or less. He just urinated on the hallway floor. Can't say that I blame him."

"It's a real shame," Ippi said. "A male that age should be able to use the _haxgep_ and talk already. He's behaving just like a human."

"It's Jen-Jen's doing," said Pillow. "She doesn't understand a lot of things."

 _"Didn't._ "

"Yes. _Didn't._ "

"My grandma ran an antique shop," Absolute said. "One time I was messing with the settings on one of those old DVD players, so I could play a PAL disk, and I picked some setting that made it stop working. Grandma got so mad at me...what if... _this thing_ , what if it's still on, but you can't see it working?"

"We can't just stay here and find out," Ippi said. "They'll send in the troops."

"We can't just leave her here, either," I said.

Charon crossed her arms. "If you really want off this planet, you'll have to. I'd say take the equipment with you, but that shit looks heavy. There's no way we're carrying all that with us."

"What if we just pull those flash drives?" Moe asked. "Would that work?"

"We can't risk it. If they're in the middle of a data transfer, we could screw something up."

"You think she'll go to the Night Forest?" Caitlyn asked.

"I don't know, honey. I hope it's something better than that."

Sighing, I placed my hand on a tower. "Big Bird, I guess this is goodbye. I'm really going to miss you. I hope you make it into computer heaven or wherever it is that sentient programs go when they die."

The computer did not respond.

"C'mon," Moe said. "I'm sure she'll turn up good as new in a refurbished cel phone or something."

I wasn't so sure about that.

With a heavy heart, I left there, continuing our quest.

Hearing an annoyed growling, I looked down and saw Lammy's face pointing up at me unhappily.

"Did you get the gun?" I asked.

She growled more. "Yes, but the green thing took it. I wished to kill him, but I thought you'd be displeased."

"So that's where he got it from," I muttered. I rubbed her head. "You're right. But thanks anyway."

"I would ask if it were okay to go back and eat the small female," she said. "But I believe that would be dangerous."

"Yeah." I frowned. "Speaking of which, where is that car?"

"The tunnel is narrower in this area," Ippi said. "Which is why she used other kinds of machines. Still, we should keep moving, make sure there aren't any other surprises."

It was true. With the narrowing of the passage, the debris from the crumbling walls, and the mess we'd left a few yards back, a car wouldn't have made it.

"Has anyone seen Hosea?" I hissed.

Nobody had.

Oh well. Nothing could be done about that, either.

Julia and Lammy led us further down the tunnel.

"The scent is much stronger now!" Julia exclaimed. "Not much further now!"

We ran for a few yards, nearing a stone cube.

Up ahead, we could see Amos's cage.

"There!"

Before we could get close to our imprisoned friend, Purple Rat and a squad of her goons stepped out, guns at the ready.

"You think I'd just let you waltz up here and grab your little friend?" the girl shouted. "Go back downstairs!"

I refused to budge.

The girl clapped her hands, and the cage vanished, as if she had picked up a magician's skill.

She nodded to her little army.

Magazines clicked at the ready, the child soldiers awaiting her command to fire.

"Downstairs. Now."

The Abreya babies cried.

In terms of number, our armies were more or less evenly matched, but they had firepower we didn't have.

And then they walked Hosea out of the other room at gunpoint.

"Let go of our friends first," I said.

"You're in no position to give orders, Ms. Ripley. Go. Now."

"What do we do?" I hissed to Moe. "We don't have any guns."

"Surrender, I guess," he said. "We could take them, but we'd lose people."

I raised my hands in the air. "If you didn't want us here, what's the point of all this?"

"Shut up and go downstairs. If I don't see feet moving, we start shooting."

I waved to my companions. "C'mon."

We turned to leave.

It seemed not everybody was onboard with the idea, for the moment we marched a couple feet from those children, I heard an angry shriek, and children screaming.

I whirled about and witnessed a scene reminiscent of the movie _Critters_.

Mark had launched himself off the floor, ejecting porcupine quills from his body like bullets. Everyone knows that real porcupines don't shoot their quills, _but Mark could_.

The next thing, he was rolling into a ball, flying into Purple Rat's chest. Blood sprayed everywhere as he burrowed through her rib cage.

The Yaotija blaster fell to the floor before she had squeezed off a shot.

"Damn!" Fiat exclaimed. "Did I just see him do a _super spin dash?_ "

The moment these words left his mouth, Purple Rat's team opened fire.

If we knew what they were firing with, the girl's death, and the death of her soldier could have been avoided.

A freckled girl with piercings in her lip and nose received a piercing through her forehead the moment she pulled the trigger on her weapon.

Guessica, who had thrown the knife, was as shocked as the rest of us when she discovered her body being sprayed with multicolored paintballs instead of hollow point rounds.

A boy next to her showered us with ketchup.

The Abreyas braced themselves for the firing squad, prepared to give their lives for the young, but the tension was unwarranted.

Five other kids fired off experimental bursts, but nothing came out but rubber pellets, spongy Nerf bullets and colored smoke. A sixth child discovered a `bang' flag popping out of his gun muzzle.

Purple Rat's soldiers dropped their weapons, most of them running away in terror.

The children that remained, the ones that weren't sprawled on the floor with porcupine quills stuck in their bodies, raised their hands in surrender.

Purple Rat's army now consisted of six soldiers, only three of them standing.

The cult kids had their knives out, prepared to kill, but I told them not to. "It's not... _sporting_ , if that's the right word. We're not bullies."

I think they liked the `sporting' argument better.

Moe gathered the weapons, examining each of them carefully.

"Looks like the work of our _merry magician,_ " he said as he removed the magazine from the ketchup gun. "This weighs as much as a real one, but it's nothing but a Super Soaker with a battery."

As I snatched up the blaster, I noticed Ippi gawking at a magazine she'd just removed from a different gun. "Ponai moqo chisda! Thank God they didn't use this one!"

She waved the magazine at Moe. "Not all of this shit is fake!"

Moe frowned. "Let me see that."

He checked the rounds and whistled. " _It appears we have a guardian angel._ "

Counting my blaster, we had seven fully operational guns at our disposal. Moe took two assault rifles, Tido a rifle and a pistol, Charon and Ippi taking the two remaining automatics. We ushered Purple Rat's troops back into the room they'd came from.

It was another one of those cute little lounges like I'd seen on the Ariel. Couches, snack machines, video games, beds. The refrigerators contained sodas, pizzas, microwave burritos, ice cream, and tubes of ready to bake Pillsbury cinnamon rolls, biscuits and cookies.

We threw the food in laundry bags and trash sacks, shackled the children to beds with handcuffs they conveniently had in their possession (for use on us, I'm assuming) then returned to the hallway.

"We should at least get them some basic medical treatment," Pillow said. "Some of those children were injured by your son's spikes. The wounds could get infected."

I nodded. "Hurry."

Pillow stopped in there briefly, to tend to the injuries from Mark's flying spines, and to change her babies, fashioning diapers with a pair of scissors, blankets, and military pins.

"Are you just going to leave them there to die?" Sharad asked me when I came back out.

 _"Relax,"_ I answered. "They're working for The Board. I'm sure someone will eventually come along and uncuff them."

 _"Exactly,"_ Ippi said. "And even if they don't, we can't afford to have those little bastards stabbing us in the back while we're sleeping, or reporting us to HQ."

But Caitlyn said, "You saved them fro that ship for a reason."

My stomach sank. "I know, honey..."

"And they can't stab you in the back if you take their knives, and march them around handcuffed."

With a sigh, I looked at Moe, and nodded to the room. "It's just six kids. We can keep them as prisoners or something."

He furrowed his brow. "You sure?"

I nodded. "We can keep them as hostages, or let them go or something."

"I doubt they have much value as hostages," Charon said. "Those kids are basically entry level."

Moe brought them out in cuffs anyway.

"Children," I told the captives. "I rescued you from those scumbags on the barge. Personally, I think you're worth more than just slaves or pawns in someone's war game. Unfortunately, right now I can't trust you enough to let you loose just yet."

The soldiers didn't answer me. They only glared. One of them spat at me.

"They're the highest ranking officers in her army," Guessica said. "I don't think they want to change sides."

"That's right," said a tall dark haired boy. "It's time for someone else to take the rank of Purple Rat."

Guessica rolled her eyes. "If it were me, I'd shut them in there like Assholes in King Butt's tomb."

"I think you mean _vassals_ , and _King Tut_."

"That's not how they said it in the cartoon."

"What?" I said, but then decided I didn't want to know. _"Never mind._ "

It was a complicated dilemma, or whatever `lemma' you use to describe multiple problems above the number two.

If we brought Purple Rat's high ranking officers along, they'd be of questionable value as hostages, they probably wouldn't help us, and would maybe even double cross us when they got the chance.

If I left them handcuffed in the room, it would be cruel and a waste of their rescue. Of course, if they were the same ones staying in the Ariel's luxury cabins, they probably didn't view it as a rescue anyway.

If I let them run off, in their quest for power they'd surely grab guns and attack us when they got the chance.

I decided to take them back into the room and leave them, with hopes that someone else fed them or whatever needed to be done.

"All right," I said. "Now I feel a little better about our chances, but where is Amos?"

Moe showed me a playing card. "I found this in a magazine chamber. Think this will help?"

It looked like one of those `playing instruction' cards, except instead of containing instructions, the card bore a single message, written in a cursive font: ` _The item you seek is right under your nose._ '

 _"Right under your nose..."_ Moe muttered.

Julia sniffed the corridor, the floor, the room with the children.

Her face abruptly collided with what appeared to be thin air.

The air shimmered, and we were looking at Amos and the glass box.

I knelt down, examining the lock.

Despite the change, Quana began crying again.

"I saw some milk in the refrigerator," Pillow said. "I'll be just a minute."

The Abreya stepped into the room for a moment, but then ended up stepping back out quickly. "The children!" she said with a whimper. "They're all dead! They had brain plugs!"

I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. "Let's just try to free Amos."

I checked Purple Rat's pockets and found a set of keys, a security badge, condoms and a pack of cigarettes. The last two items I pretended not to find.

After trying almost every key on the key ring, I found the one that unlocked the creature's prison.

Amos nuzzled her relations (and me), catching up on recent events.

"Sensing any other Ss'sik'chtokiwij in this death trap?" I asked Julia.

My dog sized grand niece shook her head. "I smelled nothing else since we came in. That doesn't necessarily mean there isn't anything here, it just means I wasn't in the right place to smell it."

"We have to cut our losses somewhere, and come back with reinforcements," Moe said. "John Rambo didn't take down a village with a bunch of kids and babies in tow."

"Well, we still have to figure out a way to save Song."

I looked in the cage and found a suspicious looking cylindrical can of peanut brittle. Instead of snakes, though, the ingredient listing said `maggots...and a key.'

I removed the lid and found the can empty.

"I heard something wiggling in there, so I ate them," Amos said.

Other people would think it gross to imagine someone eating maggots like popcorn, but I thought it amusing. "And the key?"

The larva looked deflated. "I think I ate it. Was it important?"

"Not sure."

I looked over the parapet to check on Ian and his girlfriend.

To my surprise, I discovered the woman's cage open, and both individuals gone. "Maybe we won't need that key."

Caitlyn looked down. "How did he do that, mommy?"

I shrugged. "Yuffie probably had the key in her pocket."

"You think there's a key for that big metal gate down there?"

Still seeing kids pointing guns through the gate, I sucked air through my teeth. "I don't like that idea."

"I saw an elevator," Ippi said. "It's probably a faster route."

The elevator was located inside Purple Rat's little clubhouse, and it looked like a rotary darkroom door with a lock, a ridiculous setup that reminded me of that long security door sequence from _Get Smart_.

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij seemed to drool at the dead and wounded, but they had at least eaten breakfasts of raw meat, so they left the victims where they were.

The elevator was a ghastly thing, like a round coffin, with bland gray roughly carpeted walls.

Being of average size, it wasn't quite large enough to accommodate all of us. We squished together as much as we could into that narrow cylinder, but still discovered that someone had to stay out or the doors wouldn't close.

"I know this is going to put someone at risk for being captured," I said. "But we can't all fit in here."

I frowned at the keypad next to the door. It was one of those `secured' elevators that you had to `unlock' to get to a specific floor. "And it looks like I have to keep the keys."

"I'll stay," Pillow said. "I need to be with my babies. I'll take them on a separate trip."

Ippi put her hands on her hips. "If she stays, I stay."

"I made a promise to David," I said. "We have to stay together. If we get separated, we'll be back at square one."

 _"Not if you get our ship back,"_ said Ippi.

Pillow handed Quana to me. "Here. If I never leave this place, my daughter will still have a chance."

I handed her back. "Wait. I think there's a better way."

I glanced at the cult leader. " _Tido...your god needs you to stay here._ With your little friends."

Tido accepted my words unquestioningly, but Absolute clutched my arm, refusing to go.

"Do we have to?" Guessica asked.

"You're a _kid_ ," I said. "You can probably squish against the wall. My concern is the _human adults._ "

Charon peeled off the whites of her eyes, the pupils, revealing a pair of glistening black eyeballs. " _Care to rephrase?_ "

I stared at her in disbelief, fumbling for a response.

"It's okay. I don't deserve to _`go home._ '"

I gawked at her. "You're...an alien?"

She waved her hand dismissively. "There's no time. _Go._ "

She wasn't preying on my guilt. Her tone of voice was sincere. She even gave me a salute.

I nodded. "Thank you."

Like the cage, I had to go through the whole key ring to find the elevator key. I turned it in the lock, and the barrel shaped compartment rotated to a closed position, and I felt the stomach shifting lurch of a descent.

For a moment, no one spoke. The aliens all appeared to be familiar with the concept of elevators, so nobody commented on what was going on. In fact, our behavior resembled that of nervous strangers traveling to a hospital lobby.

Well, except Hosea. Unlike everyone else, she faced us, with her back to the door.

Moe checked and rechecked his guns.

Quana and Haman, having been changed recently, had settled down a bit.

Caitlyn and Absolute pressed close to me. The other cult kids faced the door, stone silent.

"Do you really think she's an alien?" Ippi asked.

"Anything is possible," I said.

 _"It's also possible that she had on two layers of contacts!_ "

"Yeah, but she didn't insist on joining us. You'd think that would be something she'd jump on right away...she didn't show you anything while you were on that yacht?"

"She's very good at keeping secrets."

 _"She could be a mutant_ ," Caitlyn said.

Moe touched me on the shoulder. "Do you think less of me because I didn't let your...relative put its tentacles up my nose?"

"No," I said. "You were on guard duty anyway."

Moe reddened. "It wasn't just that." He lowered his voice. "I was actually _kinda scared._ I mean, I'm cool with your _family,_ for the most part, but having those wiggling things messing around with my brain?"

"I don't think any less of you," I said.

He smiled, took a deep breath. "I was just thinking, that if we get more time, and I have another chance..."

"It's okay, Moe. Forget about it."

Looking more red, he persisted. "I (ahem) _still want to_. I'd like to get to know you better."

 _"I suppose nobody's stopping you,"_ I muttered.

And then I thought about the clone I killed, technically his brother. I still didn't feel good about that.

If we `got together', got married or what have you, that face would be looking back at me every day, reminding me of that horrible murder I'd committed...and so many others.

"I thought you wouldn't be careless again," Sharad said to Ippi.

The older Abreya's face flushed green with anger. "You want me to tie your tail to your eyestalks?"

Sharad turned green, shaking her head.

The two muttered in Wava.

"You know what you need?" Moe said to Absolute. "We need to toughen you up. You got body mass, kid, we just need to shift it into muscle so it can start working for you. I think it'd do you good, get your buddies to respect you more."

Absolute looked slightly offended, but said, "You gonna do that for me?"

"Yeah. The moment we get some luxury time, we're getting some serious pushups going."

 _"I'm tired,_ " the boy said.

"It gives you energy. Trust me, you'll sleep better."

"You sound like some of those so-called `friends' I had in Afexun."

"I know what you mean. I've seen those gyms. Look, kid. I'm not going to bust your ass about it or anything, I just want you to think about yourself,a nd how good you'll feel if you bulk up a little. You'll feel better."

"All right. Bet."

The elevator rotated open into concrete underground tunnel that looked identical to the one I'd used to find Ernie's grandmother.

"Smell anything?" I asked Julia.

"Is your nose clogged?" she answered.

I sniffed. "I don't know what I'm looking for. I...can't tell. Do you smell a Ss'sik'chtokiwij?"

Julia inhaled around the walls and floor. She shook her head. "Only Amos."

"They carried me up this way," the larva agreed. "I was slightly unconscious."

She turned her face plate toward Julia. "You are larger than you were in the memory."

"Yes," said Julia. "I am now in Zoegdawa phase of maturity."

"I should start learning your language," Moe commented. "I'm sure what you're saying is very amusing."

Part of me wanted to tell Moe to give it up, he was trying too hard to win me. But the other part disagreed.

Both sides of my personality agreed that we needed to keep going.

I took the elevator key off the key ring, used it in the door to lock in the floor number we'd come from, and got out before the barrel could rotate closed. I could only hope that the elevator would open again and allow Tido and Charon to join us.

Alas, this was not to be.

A few minutes after the elevator left our floor, something like an earthquake rocked the tunnel, sending down a shower of dust.

The tunnel had been built like an army bunker, so we were in little danger of a cave-in. What troubled me more was the source of this seismic disturbance.

"What the fuck was that?" Ippi shouted.

 _"Explosives,"_ Moe sighed. _"Our friends didn't make it._ "

We all stared numbly at the elevator. Absolute, Guessica and Fiat were crying.

"I'm guessing it was a drone or an air strike with a missile," Moe said. "You wouldn't even feel a smaller detonation."

The cult kids pressed close to me. In Tido's absence, I guess they thought I was next in line for leadership.

Of course, they really just wanted a mom and dad.

Since I couldn't take all the crying, I knelt down and drew the children into a group hug. For a moment, I felt like Maria Von Trapp, reliving a scene from _The Sound of Music_.

The elevator rotated open, filling the tunnel with a huge cloud of dust.

A figure in a bright yellow Nehru jacket staggered out, coughing and waving the dust out of his face.

He didn't look like Zack.

At all.

In fact, with the devilish eyebrows, the mustache and goatee, he looked quite suspicious.

Plump rounded face, bulbous nose. He looked like a side character off of a James Bond movie.

 _"This reminds me of a demolitions job I once had,"_ the man said between coughs, his accent thickly British. "They spot your tracking chip several kilometers away, and yet they set off the charges while you're still in the building. _I suspect someone up top has ill feelings towards me."_

We all stared at him.

"Who the hell are you?" Ippi asked.

The man conjured fire from his fingertips, drawing a playing card out of the flames.

He held the card up to show us the laughing blackbird.

"You're _The Rook?_ " I said.

The man smiled and took a bow.

"I don't know whether to shake your hand or ram a knife through your chest," Ippi muttered.

"Some have done both simultaneously," the man replied. "Though I would appreciate it greatly if you didn't do that."

"Have you seen my friends? A crazy bald guy with a ponytail and a lady in a bird costume?"

The man broke into a coughing fit that almost sounded like laughter. "If your friends were up there, I'm afraid that's the end of them. _`No stone left standing atop the other,'_ to put it in biblical parlance. The blast was really quite horrific. Shot me clear down to the bottom floor. _It's a fair piece of luck that I came out of it in one piece!_ "

"Did you crucify my friend on that wall in the other town?" I asked.

The Rook visibly shuddered. "Good God, no! Whatever gave you that dreadful idea?"

 _"The giant laughing bird painted with human blood."_

The man puffed out his cheeks. "I can only assure you that this was not my doing."

"What about the coffins? _People died!"_

The man burst out laughing, like it were the funniest joke in the world. "What, you seriously...?"

He coughed again.

"What's so funny!" I growled.

The man stiffened, clearly trying very hard not to grin. "Perhaps it is best to simply _show you._ Not here, of course."

He cocked his head toward the left. "Come along, come along. _I believe this is the way out._ "

"I'm not going anywhere until you explain yourself," I said. "For all I know, you could be a deranged serial killer who gets a laugh out of watching people die."

The man shook his head violently. "No, no, you've got it all wrong! And even if that were my intent, _I never placed any cameras inside those coffins_! _It's very difficult to get one's jollies watching a snuff film without the film,_ don't you think? _"_

"Then it's a revenge thing. You watched our...biometrics or whatever the hell you call it, just to make sure someone died."

"Oh no no. Quite the opposite, actually." The Rook sighed. "I'd tell you now, but of course you wouldn't believe me. I need to _show you._ "

"It's a trap," Ippi said. "I say we kill the bastard and get the hell out of here."

"Wait," said I. "Are you telling me that my friends are still alive?"

The Rook shrugged. _"I might._ "

"But that's impossible! _We all saw the bodies! Big Bird checked them!_ "

" _Which is why I must show you._ You already assume that I'm making up a story, so why bother with explanations? You can either come with me now, or continue perpetuating this rudding nonsense that your friends have died in their shallow graves!"

I glanced at my friends. They were still suspicious, but I saw a hint of hope in some of them.

I took a deep breath. "Okay. But if this is a trap, my friends will probably kill you."

The man swallowed and nodded. "Come along, then."

Ippi pointed her rifle at him. "No funny stuff, _Magic Man_. Or I use your body to do the Disappearing Bullet Trick."

"It hardly seems sporting," The Rook said. "Considering how I lent you the guns to begin with."

"Regret is this planet's primary renewable resource. Enjoy."

We followed the man down a long tunnel, turned left in the corridor, marching into a hallway lined with offices.

A staircase took us upstairs into a cubicle farm.

A sterile looking office with tan gray walls, children occupying the desks, each busily writing reports, programming, watching security feeds.

It seemed a strictly military affair, no personal effects on any of the desks, indicating, perhaps, the impermanence of the staff.

The children wore telephone headsets, reading cryptic military orders off to someone on the other end. A lot of the dialog seemed like an elaborate Battleship game, like "Blue Goose team to -22.91229 degrees north, -43.23021 degrees east" and so on.

The camera monitors all displayed recordings of me and my team.

My team in Dracula's Tower.

My team in the dollhouse.

My team members using the toilet, and taking a shower.

I shuddered, walking fast to get away from there.

The Rook swiped a badge at a security entrance, letting us out to a pebbled macadam staircase bookended by shrubs and evergreens. The road leading to the `used car lot' lay at the bottom.

The moment we came outside, a company of child soldiers greeted us with their rifles.

Nobody said anything. They just looked menacing.

The crowd parted, and a pair of figures stepped out, clad in child sized Green Beret uniforms, one Caucasian, one African American.

Caitlyn whimpered when she saw them.

 _"It looks like your childhood friends are back,"_ Moe deadpanned.

"Should we drop our weapons?" I asked.

Moe shook his head. _"Simon didn't say."_

 _"Still,"_ Ippi said. " _I wouldn't recommend shooting._ "

I, however, wasn't so sure.

Even though I carried a powerful weapon that could probably blow a person to pieces and critically injure anyone standing next to them, those kids would likely retaliate and kill everyone on my team.

I did that thing criminals do in movies when the cops have them surrounded, you know, holding the weapon by the wrong part to indicate you weren't going to use it, laying it down.

"That won't be necessary," Kamara said. "Even with those weapons, you wouldn't have a chance."

"Come with us," Josh said.

I glanced back at the Rook. "You know about this, didn't you?"

"We should have plugged him while we had the chance!" Ippi growled.

"We're not the enemy here," said the man.

"You could've fooled me. I still don't know what's so damned funny about those people suffocating to death."

"They-" the man coughed, cleared his throat. "I know how frightfully terrible this must appear, but it's not as grim as all that. Begging your apology, but it's not something I can convincingly explain by mere word of mouth."

How could I not stare at him like he were crazy? "So you've got some, what, misguided plan to kill people and upload their consciousness into a computer? Make them `better' and yet `still alive'? Is that it?"

This provoked the man to laughter again. "Forgive me! Your imagination is really quite amazing for a woman living in this day and age. It's shameful that you aren't in charge of America's entertainment media. You really are quite astonishing."

He bowed, giving me the `after you.'


	55. Chapter 55: Unified Government

DOCUMENT ID #000810020257204: "Diary of Pillow Barnes"

!

I thought I was going to die in that tower.

It seemed like everything in the building was either trying to stab us, shoot us, run us over, or infect us with disease. Prayers were never far from my lips.

I carried Quana and Nathan on my back in the style of the warrior Wojabe, presenting my body as a shield for the sake of our young.

I hadn't accomplished as much as I would have liked, and hadn't shared the gospel with as many souls as I thought I'd been called to witness to, but I had made peace with God. If it were His will for me to die, I accepted it.

Despite how much we had fought in the past, Ms. Snarken has bonded with me like family, even submitting herself to the _Wojabteb_ with Haman, whom I once thought she despised. Perhaps she still feels guilt over the infanticide she committed during her earlier imprisonment. Whatever the reason, I am grateful for it.

So accepting of my fate was I that I even pulled Ellie aside, compelling her to listen to my last wishes.

"If I don't live through this," I said to her. "Tell my husband I never stopped loving him. Tell him I forgive him, and I invoke the rite of Remvuaf. May God bless my husband's union with Sarah, may my children be her children, and may God bless them all."

The young woman nodded. "I hope it doesn't come to that, but I'll tell him if I have to."

After a series of harrowing trials and senseless tragedies, we found Amos, one of Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik's children, and made our way to a secret elevator within the enemy compound.

This was not a freight elevator. Only a few `people' could fit inside the compartment at one time.

I volunteered to stay behind, and go down on the second trip, requesting, of course, that Ellie and her friends take my babies away from this awful place if I didn't make it, but Ellie wouldn't have it, insisting that I came along. She had made a promise to David, and she intended to keep it.

Instead, she somehow convinced the two adults, Tido and Charon, to stay behind in my place.

Tragically, they never had a chance to escape. The moment we got out on the bottom floor, we heard the sounds of the building exploding.

We had closed the elevator when this happened, thinking it would go up to the proper floor and pick up our two friends.

When it came back open, we thought they had returned, but alas, it was only a stranger.

The man arrived in a huge cloud of rock dust that made my babies cough and cry. This annoyed me to no end, but what he had to say made my ears perk up.

He hinted that Camille was still alive.

If he told the truth, there would be no need to call Matthew. We could simply bring his mother back home with us.

But how was this possible? Ellie's team had seen the woman's body. The robot had checked her vitals and found she had none.

Still, if there were any hope of her being alive, we _had_ to investigate.

Ippi and the others, however, were not so sure.

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij sniffed the man and growled.

"We should kill him and be done with it," Ippi had said, but I told her no.

"The woman is a _friend_. If there's a chance that she's still alive, I want to see for myself."

"You'll be seeing a trap," Ippi replied.

It was ultimately up to Ellie, since she had the strength and the guts to lead us through this ordeal.

"Pillow's right," she said. "I don't want to leave people behind if we can help it. Especially if it's for a friend like Matt."

"Then we'll be stuck here another month," Ippi complained. "I hope, for all our sakes, you're making the right decision."

"I hope so too."

This `Rook' person (if that's even his real name) led us through a sort of military office staffed by children.

I always knew they were monitoring my every move, but now I had definite proof. Those security stations displayed _everything_. I hurried out of there as quickly as I could.

Outside, we were met by an army of children with guns. It reminded me of the battle of Sargoqam. Of course, in Sargoqam the `children' only appeared to be twelve and thirteen due to the prolonged Abreya life cycle, so they actually understood the consequences of war and violence.

True to his word, the tower we had just entered was now nothing but a pile of rubble. I could ordinarily see it from my bedroom window, but now the only thing I could only see in that direction was a cloud of black smoke rising from the field.

Under the threat of bloodshed, a couple of Ellie's so-called `friends' and this army marched us down the dirt road to that officious looking concrete cube I'd seen so many times out my laundry room window.

It was the first time I'd viewed the object up close.

It resembled a courthouse, in the mold of the Lincoln Memorial, with the Latin phrase, `Nos es vigilo vos' chiseled into the lintel. Its tall windows had a copper tint job so you couldn't see the interior.

The children led us up to a set of double doors emblazoned with pentagrams bearing the symbols of world religions at its five points, a Yin Yang, the star and crescent, the Hindu Aum, the Darwin fish, and an upside down cross.

We entered a pillared anteroom dominated by a statue of Mao Zedong, passing through a security station where our guns were confiscated.

 _"No weapons within government buildings_ ," Kamara explained.

Oddly enough, they only took our guns. We were still allowed to keep our knives.

Mark and the Ss'sik'chtokiwij sniffed around the interior, puzzled by the scents and the purpose of the structure.

We passed through another set of double doors, entering a large chamber that resembled the U.S. House of Representatives Committee Hearing Room, circa 2017, with a few slight differences.

For one thing, the outer rings of desks in this room represented all the major countries of the globe, from America to Zambia, like a modified version of the United Nations Assembly.

The floor had been painted with a diagram of the Chinese zodiac, each nation neatly falling under the umbrella of one sign or another.

There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the arrangement in terms of alphabet, number or superiority. I supposed one could draw their own conclusions about Russia being classified as a rat, or China as a chicken, but it required a supreme stretch of the imagination.

A circle of desks inside these rows bore no plaques of country affiliation. Instead they only held silhouettes of the zodiac animals, as if implying that the entire world were beneath the rule of the organization.

Instead of flags, the rear wall held a massive silver governmental style shield, one bearing the image of a serpent emerging from a lotus blossom. The red bubble of a camera eye glowed between its tarnished gray eye slits like the mythical Buddhist _prana_.

Weary from all the horrible adventures, I seated myself in the Purple Rooster's desk, hoping that no one would come along and make me move.

(Text Missing)

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DOCUMENT ID #000741011611602 (Ellie's Journal - Cont'd)

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[0000]

I followed Kamara into the building, staring at the rows of empty desks that surrounded me.

"This is _some place!_ " I said. "Do people from all over the world really come down to this building to have meetings?"

Kamara smirked. "Not...really."

She took a golf pencil out of her pocket, flicking it at the desk of the British ambassador. The graphite point bounced off an unseen wall.

 _"Holograms,"_ she said.

"Huh."

"Only the inner circle uses this building. And then only once per quarter. They make exceptions for special events like today."

I pretended not to notice Hosea urinating on the `dragon' desk. Apparently there were some things that this Ss'sik'chtokiwij trapped in a human body needed to learn, or maybe re-learn.

Kamara wrinkled her nose, but didn't bother to clean up. Instead, she handed pairs of `Googgles' to me and my human companions. "Put these on. The meeting's about to begin."

I did what she asked.

Through the lenses, I could see a gathering of more than a hundred people, all clad in hooded black robes, faces obscured by masks or their cowls, and people in red suits and sunglasses.

 _"Looks like a big DEVO concert,"_ Moe dryly mused.

When I glanced down, I discovered that Absolute had been digitally transformed into a skinny female elf mage. Guessica became a female X-Men character with glowing white eyes and bubblegum pink hair, Fiat a ninja panda in a Shaolin monk costume, and Caitlyn...a sparkly blue unicorn.

I grinned at my suddenly equine daughter. "Seriously?"

She whiffled at me.

Kamara took her place behind the `Orange Lamb' podium, Josh and the `Green Monkey', near Kamara's parents.

I returned my attention to the Assembly.

To my great dismay, I noticed several familiar faces seated behind the central desks.

It was more than just Kamara's parents and Josh's dad.

Mr. Weyland.

Duplicates of me.

The baby killing old man in charge of the Moloch cult.

The male `wife' of Jimmy Hampton, evangelist.

The `husband' of Mazda Miyata, with a bandaged throat.

Those female Disney police officers.

Rosa, my six fingered friend.

A figure in a horned Witch King costume stepped forward from the Red Tiger's desk, raising its hands in a kind of benediction, and in an older woman's voice intoned, "All rise for the pledge."

The officials rose to their feet, and said in one voice, "I pledge allegiance to the Unified Government, and to the principles for which it stands, one nation, under the Higher Power and all the gods, for peace, prosperity, and the evolutionary development of all humankind."

A roll call followed this pledge, each country's representative announcing their names and governmental positions, all prime ministers, secondary vice presidents and other lower end officials.

The inner circle did not divulge any names, only color and zodiac animal. "Red Horse, present." And so on.

My alien son and my Ss'sik'chtokiwij friends stared at the empty desks, wondering what I was doing, so I muttered explanations every so often during the course of the meeting.

"Let us begin with the first order of business," the horned figure said. "MM7, you have the floor."

A god-like disembodied voice echoed through the chamber, the camera eye on the wall flashing with every spoken word.

 _"Finance._ My systems have detected several accounting errors in fiscal reports submitted to this agency. The representative from Belgium has declared an allocation of seventy million to the World Peace Foundation, but only sixty nine million in gold has been deposited."

The German ambassador stood up. "Begging your forgiveness, MM7, but the one million has been retained to assuage suspicions that the treasury has been depleted. Historically, Americans employed a similar tactic during the depletion of the gold in Fort Knox."

"You are not to second guess my decisions, Mr. Scharrfen. If you had been as familiar with Fort Knox as you claim, you would understand that an increase of security measures around the national repository would serve as sufficient enough deterrent against such accusations from the prying public. _You have been replaced._ "

The red suited man clutched at his throat, vomiting up blue foam as he collapsed, disappearing from view.

A blonde haired woman stepped up to take his place. "The funds will be reallocated."

The Rook stood at parade rest, refusing to comment on what we just witnessed.

"Senator Umpierre of Brazil..." MM7 began.

The fat faced man seated at that particular desk dabbed his sweating brow as he typed on an unseen keyboard. _"El dinero is tuyo._ "

Several other officers folded in a similar fashion. Only one other person died, the ambassador of Kenya, this time due to a sudden attack of conscience. He refused to give MM7 the money, so MM7 ended his life.

"That thing runs all the computer systems," Moe said. " _Why doesn't it just_ _hack in and take the money?_ "

"I think they're after gold," I said.

"Still, it could just e-mail some lies to people and get it."

"I don't know. I think it's more complicated than that."

The second item on the agenda was a planned `terror attack', which happened to be a cooperative venture between the United States and Al Buraq.

"Our target this time will be the Callaway Plant in Fulton Missouri," the American Senator was saying. The guy was eighteen, had pin earrings in both ears and his nose, and green dyed hair. "I want the death toll capped at five hundred thousand, but I want the explosion to take out a minimum of one hundred thousand."

"And what will receive in exchange, Senator Entrigan?" said the Egyptian Secondary Prime Minister.

"The usual. Land expansion into the continental United States, particularly food production centers in upper regions of Kansas, plus the usual converts. Nothing like a little fear of almighty Allah to send them running for the nearest mosque...and to the polls to vote for the newest anti-terrorism bill."

The wrinkled Mediterranean looking mummy of a person gave the American a predatory smile. _"A fair trade."_

The children appeared to be bored with these politics, failing to understand how serious a threat this was to their freedom, but Pillow and Ippi were whispering explanations to their little family, looking horrified.

Moe didn't seem at all surprised by all of this. I decided I'd have a lot of questions to ask him later.

A few more arrangements like this were made, then the Horned One spoke up again.

"Orange Lamb. Come forward with your presentation on Project 380912M."

Kamara stepped down from her podium, gesturing for me and the others to stand in the center of the room. Once there, the children's ridiculous digital avatars vanished, revealing their real photographic forms to The Board.

Only Pillow and her babies remained outside the inner circle. Motherhood tends to give some people a mule-like stubbornness and a granite resolve, immune to the powers of status, rank or privilege.

"The Board members have already witnessed the incredible destructive power of Subject 6-8575721 and her companions, both outside this facility and on the island itself. Within a year, we can weaponize and entire army of similar soldiers to secure each of you places of executive power within your respective governments, and maintain order financially, socially and religiously, for as long as you choose to remain in office."

The leader of the Iraq stood up. "Can you guarantee one hundred percent eradication of non-Muslim organizations within the United States and Arabic territories?"

Kamara nodded. "The chances of that are very good. With the proper indoctrination, an army with similar programming can eliminate dissidents from any religion or political group your government wishes to stop."

"Now wait a damn minute!" I shouted.

"I'm not fighting for _any agenda_ you're pushing! All I do is for _me, and my friends!_ "

Mark and the Ss'sik'chtokiwij growled in agreement.

The people in robes, the people in red suits, they were all laughing at me.

"I would like to use this hybrid for an expansionist strike against Ohio," said the ambassador from the Islamic East Coast. "How soon can you have her indoctrinated?"

"You _assume_ she isn't already," Kamara said, pulling a card out of her pocket.

She handed the card to me. "Read this aloud."

I took one look at what had been printed on it and frowned.

I'd been presented with an Islamic confession of faith, excessive amounts of `Blessed be the Prophet' and `Blessed Allah' and so on covering the document like curry on overdone Al Kabsa.

"I'm not reading this."

"You can and will," Kamara said. "Or you and your friends will die."

I gave her a pleading look. "Kamara. _We're friends._ Why are you doing this to me?"

"I've had `friends' like you before," she said. "You're the one that shows the most promise. Read the damn card."

"I won't!" I said. "And if you're going to be a fake friend and threaten me like that, you might as well kill me right now!"

"And what about your _friends_? _Your daughter_? Do they have to die too?"

The audience didn't seem to think anything was wrong with this whole exchange. I was on my own.

"That's a line that even I won't cross," I said. "I'd rather that they didn't have to die, but I answer to the Lord. If they die for the cause of the faith, God will raise them up again, and they will have eternal life in heaven."

"Say what!" Ippi shouted.

"She's made a decision about your life," Kamara reiterated. "Based on her religious tenets."

The Abreya glared at me. "Speak for yourself, young lady! Hand me that card! I'll read it for you!"

 _"I'm afraid it doesn't work that way,"_ Kamara said.

I sighed, giving Ippi an apologetic glance. "I'm not reading it."

Caitlyn clutched my hand tightly.

Kamara nodded to the baleful red eye.

A moment later, I felt a burning sensation traveling up my right arm, a burning that quickly developed into intense searing pain.

The view through the glasses swarmed with digital demons, as if Allah were sending demons from hell to punish me for being an infidel. It became increasingly difficult to breathe.

"The wrath of Almighty Allah is a fearful thing," I heard the voice of MM7 booming. "Surrender."

"Fuck you!" I yelled, clutching my chest. "I'm not going to let some glorified word processor torture me out of eternal life!"

The pain radiated outward through my body, burning like molten solder, like a heated fireplace poker under my skin. I screamed, dropping to my knees.

The Rook did nothing to help me. He just gave me a slightly apologetic glance.

Moe yanked my glasses off, but I could still see digital objects and people. I couldn't tell if this were due to holographic technology or some recent work done to me while I had been unconscious.

"Submit," the voice demanded. "Submit!"

"No!" I sobbed. "Never!"

"Good!" I heard Entrigan saying to the Secondary Prime Minister of Egypt. _"We have her right where we want her._ "

I snatched my hand out of Caitlyn's grip, no longer able to endure the slightest touch.

The pain swelled and surged, bringing to mind the tortures of the crucifixion.

"Ellie!" Moe shouted, rushing to my side. "Are you all right?"

When his hands touched me, they felt like broken glass being dragged across my skin. I recoiled from him.

My other friends looked like they wanted to help, but could not. The tortures were _electronic. A part of me._

Mark and the Ss'sik'chtokiwij snarled and grouped around me protectively, but it was as useful as a guard dog barking at cancer. It only had a point if the right kind of `surgeon' were present.

Caitlyn tried to hug me, but I pushed her away. "Not now! It hurts!"

Ippi searched the walls with her hands, perhaps trying to find the off switch. None was found.

"Submit!" said MM7. "Surrender!"

With eyes blearing with tears, I screamed "No!" then broke down into a sobbing fit.

Kamara turned to face the U.S. Ambassador. "Are you satisfied, Senator Entrigan?"

"Yes," the man said. "She'll do nicely once we work out this religious fundamentalism."

It was a ruse. A trick to see how loyal I was to the American cause.

Nobody seemed to understand that my country, my _allegiance_ , wasn't of this earth.

A needle nosed Ss'sik'chtokiwij head poked out from below the Japanese delegate's station. The visual reminded me strangely of Mantan Moreland hiding from a zombie in one of those old movies I'd flipped through on cable.

"Big Bird?" I gasped.

The digital Ss'sik'chtokiwij held a claw to her mosquito beak, diving back below behind the desk.

Although happy to see her, I couldn't help but feel disappointed. She presently seemed as unhelpful as the Cheshire Cat in the _Wonderland_ stories.

"Why do you hate the United States?" Kamara said.

My voice was shrill with pain. "I don't! _You people_ have ruined the country, that's all!"

"Why do you hate America?"

"I don't!" I yelled.

"You don't want to stay on the island! Why is that?"

"You know why!" I said.

"Tell me! Why do you want to leave!"

"I'm not human! I don't belong here! There are better worlds!"

"This is all there is, Ellie. _This material world_. Things aren't going to be any better for you in space. You're living in denial. Why do you want to leave?"

"Shut up!" I shouted. "You're not my friend anymore! You're trying to take my God away!"

"Why do you hate America?" said the Senator.

"I don't!"

"Why do you want to leave! Answer me!"

They weren't asking me these questions to get answers. They were using reverse psychology to get what they wanted.

The people in the desks were clapping.

Presently, I was so angry that I almost wanted to stay on the island, _to spite them_.

I staggered to my feet. "You think I fight for _your country?_ You obviously don't know me as well as you think!"

"You stand for _people_ , Ellie," Kamara said. "You believe what America stands for. _Democracy. Freedom of Speech._ "

"And _Freedom of Religion?"_ I scoffed. "You're speaking about the enamel on a tooth that's rotting away from the inside! You're given the _illusion_ of religious freedom, but not the substance! You can _have_ religion, but it's illegal to share it!"

"What about the Rosicrucians?" Kamara asked. "What about the Buddhists, the Lubavichers, the Bahai? The Scientologists?"

"What about them!" I snapped.

MM7 again crippled me with waves of agonizing pain.

The needle nosed holographic Ss'sik'chtokiwij hopped up on the Parliamentarian's desk, spreading her wings.

To my absolute surprise, she actually took to the air, flying in the face of the serpent head and its glaring red eye.

Like Rodan in one of those old Godzilla movies, Big Bird opened her mouth, blasting MM7's eye with a cartoony glowing beam.

The eye exploded in a shower of sparks. The delegation, the extra row of desks, the outer perimeter of the room, it all vanished into thin air, leaving only Big Bird and the children's silly avatars in the digital environment.

Strangely, Kamara had vanished along with them. It seemed the girl had picked up some magic tricks from her new boyfriend.

I wiped tears from my eyes, smiling at the holographic Ss'sik'chtokiwij. "Big Bird! You're alive!"

The creature purred. "You cry for me! Why?"

"You're a friend," I said. "I thought you were gone."

"You cannot destroy energy," she said. "However, your skillful assistance in recovering my consciousness matrix and your emotional responses have greatly expanded my personal definitions of `caring' and `friendship.' I am currently experiencing a state of positive well being which appears to fall within the categories of both love and happiness. Saving data...data saved."

"Why can I see you?" I asked. "I'm not wearing the glasses."

Big Bird growled. "You have been _altered_."

"Do I have a brain plug?"

"No. Your brain is far too valuable for destruction in this manner."

"What do I do, Big Bird?" I cried. "I don't want this thing in my body!"

"Your modification can not be easily removed without advanced surgical procedures. However, complete removal is unnecessary. If you destroy key devices in your body, systems cannot interface with your cerebral and optic implants, and you will also be immune to RFID tracking systems."

She generated a three dimensional holographic image of my body in the air, highlighting the devices in glowing red.

I pulled out my knife.

"The PH level in your body may prove too strong for an ordinary blade," Big Bird commented.

"Would _this laser_ help?"

I suddenly noticed that not all the people in red suits and robes had disappeared. A figure in a jumpsuit and shades slouched in a chair behind the desk of the Black Horse, feet kicked up on its polished surface.

The man twirled a silver cylindrical object in his fingers, a shiny thing the thickness of a laundry marker, reminding me of an otoscope.

With deft movements of his hands, he made it appear as if he'd squished the object into his palm, then flicked it out between the middle and index fingers of his other hand.

He snapped his fingers, and Josh was marching up and handing me the object, albeit a bit grudgingly.

I stared at the tool for a moment, then called to the man. "Are you going to explain the people you suffocated in those coffins?"

Zack hopped to his feet. "What the hell are you talking about!"

He shot an angry glare at The Rook. "Dammit, Simon! I told you they needed oxygen masks!"

" _I had them under hypnosis_!" The Rook said. "Don't you dare shunt the blame onto me! The relaxation techniques should have been sufficient to maintain proper air until their associates could excavate them! It isn't my fault that I was given erroneous reports that omit critical details about pre-existing medical conditions!"

" _So they really are dead,_ " I said with disappointment.

Pillow let out a puppy whimper.

"I'm really sorry," Zack said. "It wouldn't have happened at all if this incompetent asshole-"

"Me? Incompetent! It _is_ for the kettle to claim that the pot is black!"

" _People died_ , Simon. And this isn't the first time. I accepted your so-called `accidents' before, but anymore they happen with such frequency that I can't help but wonder if you're doing this on purpose!"

 _"Are you calling me a murderer?"_ The Rook challenged.

"No," said Zack. "You _are_ a murderer. Plus you brought that poor young woman here to be tortured! What kind of man are you?"

 _"What about you, my dear sir? You merely sat by and watched!"_

"There's a difference between biding your time and plotting to kill people. _You plot!_ "

 _"That is a serious accusation,"_ The Rook said. "Where is your evidence?"

"You're a magician. _You know how to conceal things just as well as I do."_

The Rook laughed. "It is only natural for a murderer withholding evidence to point the finger of blame at someone else!"

"Ladies," Moe scolded. "You're _both_ murderers. Can we please move on?"

"Shut up!" both men snapped.

Moe clenched his fists. _"Make me."_

They ignored him.

The Rook stomped up to Zack with a pair of kid gloves, slapping him in the face. "I challenge thee to a duel. Of magic."

Zack slapped him back. "Duel accepted."

The two took several steps back from each other, then commenced a series of mystical `air bending' gestures.

The Rook fired a magical dragon spirit illusion at Zack, throwing him into a wall.

When Simon rushed to check on Mr. Hattam, his victim blew a swarm of bees in his face and drove a knife into his stomach.

The Rook pressed his index finger to Zack's head, cocked and pressed down his thumb like a gun hammer, and the back of Zack's head exploded in a shower of brains and blood.

The Rook then collapsed on the floor from the bleeding knife wound.

I hurried out of there fast, knocking down a couple soldiers who were guarding the door.

None of us wanted to go outside, due to the army, so we hurried down a corridor on the east side of the building, into a rotunda.

"The range of my holographic systems do not extend much further," Big Bird said as we dashed up the north hallway. "Perhaps if you go in here..."

A previously locked security door clicked open, revealing an office filled with avian imagery, taxidermy owls, framed pictures of swans and ducks, sculptures of geese, brass lamps modeled after the eagles of the German Reich.

I hurried everyone into the room and shut the door, taking out the laser.

The moment I seated myself in an overstuffed leather chair embossed with quail images, Pillow passed her babies to her trusted helpers and grabbed my hand. "Wait. Let me do it."

I gave her the tool. "Big Bird showed me where to cut. I'm not sure if you know..."

 _"Foqipi,"_ she said. _"I have a medical degree from an alien college._ "

Moe handed the Abreya my Googgles. "Here. Maybe this will help."

She put them on, and seemed to know right away what to do. _"I see._ "

She instructed me to hold out my hand. "You'll have to forgive me, I'm a little out of practice..."

Pillow actually wasn't that bad. She had the implants disabled in a couple seconds, my RFID removed, and then, with just as much ease, she shut down and removed the implants of everyone else on the team. We ended up with quite a collection of tracking chips piled on the corvid embossed mahogany desk.

"All right," I said. "Now that we have that out of the way...I suppose the front entrance is out of the question..."

Moe took out his knife, gouging lines across one of the strong looking tempered glass windows.

He picked up the quail chair, dunking it through the scratched panes. Glass sprayed everywhere, with an unpleasant amount of noise.

Beyond the frame, I saw a field of weeds, and a set of train tracks. The car lot was off to the left.

"Quick," I hissed. "Outside, before someone catches us."

We all climbed out, marching ahead through the foliage.

"Stop," Julia said. "I sense something."

All of a sudden, the field swelled with colored smoke that smelled of perfumes and cologne and sauerkraut. There were also magnesium flares.

"I can't smell anything!" Lammy exclaimed. "I see heat everywhere!"

And then the army of kids was surrounding us with guns.

 _"You made a lot of noise,"_ Kamara said as she approached my team from the rear. "And you took out your tracking chips. That was naughty."

Zack appeared at the broken window, wiping red viscous fluid away from his forehead, and out of his hair. The Rook joined him, pulling an empty blood pack out from under his jacket, along with the magnet that held the phony knife to his stomach.

The two hopped into the field like best buddies, with Josh trailing them.

I gawked at Mr. Hattam. "You're alive!"

"You seriously didn't think that a pair of fingers could blow a hole through someone's skull!"

"No," I said. "But a trick gun could."

"True, true. But Simon wouldn't do that to his favorite stage partner."

 _"I concur,"_ The Rook said. " _I would prefer to use a malfunctioning guillotine prop for such an important job_."

The two men laughed.

"Can I have my wand back?" The Rook said to Kamara.

The girl made a `help yourself' gesture.

The man unhooked a square flashlight-like device from a post, clicked a button on the side, and Kamara's ninety strong army was reduced to a mere seven, half of them only pointing gun shaped pieces of wood.

 _"Holograms,"_ I muttered.

Julia nodded. " _I told you they smelled false._ "

Zack casually strolled up to Kamara, placing a hand on her shoulder as he whispered in her ear.

She immediately fell unconscious.

When Mr. Nehru Jacket did the same thing with Josh a second later, the three kids with guns opened fire.

Their weapons made a lot of noise, but nothing came out.

"Hey!" Moe shouted. "They're shooting blanks!"

Ippi snatched a weapon from one of the children's hands, knocking them unconscious with it, Moe and the cultists taking down the rest in similar fashion.

Moe checked one of the assault rifles and frowned. "Hey! These are the same exact guns we came in with!"

 _"More or less._ " Zack tossed him the magazines for the weapons, then pulled the firing piece for the blaster out from behind my ear. I rolled my eyes, thanking him as I popped it back in the device.

Zack gave Ippi a low bow, addressing her in Wava. _"Ceqtebik mese oliguwex nognes."_

The female laughed. "Nice try, but you just told me I look like a banana."

"You have bananas on your planet? _How interesting_! You'd think, from an evolutionary standpoint..."

"They're actually called _brioliguwe,"_ she groaned. "They taste like mint. Anyways, who taught you the language?"

Pillow looked embarrassed.

Ippi snapped her tail in annoyance. "If you want to scew humans, fine. _That's your business_. I don't really care. Just stay out of mine, all right? No more playing matchmaker!"

"It was actually my idea," Zack said.

Ippi turned green and looked away, pretending like she wasn't there.

He handed her a silk handkerchief, which she dropped due to it containing a pistol. Lucky for us, the safety was on.

"All right," I told The Rook. "You've kept me in suspense long enough. Are my friends alive in the traditional sense, or are they not?"

Zack and The Rook looked at each other uncomfortably for a moment. Zack gave his friend a nod.

The Rook pulled a radio out of his pocket, holding it to his ear. "Sweetie, could you come over to the house and make dinner for me, please? _I'll be dining alone._ "

"Wait," I cried. "What?"

The Rook put his radio away. "Our agent will be waiting for us at the rendezvous point."

I sighed. "I'm getting really tired of all these games."

"Oh be a good sport and go for one more," The Rook said. "It will be the last one, I assure you."

"All right," Moe said, rubbing his hands together. "Let's go grab us a car."

After marching for a mile or so, we at last came to the `used car lot.'

It wasn't quite the place I expected when I saw it from afar.

For one thing, these were all military vehicles, with the standard dark or camo colors. Hummers, Jeeps, trucks, ATV's, motorcycles, buses, semis, stuff that was fairly heavy duty, able to handle rough turf, no sports or `economy' models. No minivans, smart cars, or cute models of SUV either, for that matter.

Also, instead of a dealership office, it only had a drab green one story barracks.

The area appeared to be deserted, but we crept between the vehicles quietly, ever on alert. The Ss'sik'chtokiwij scuttled beneath the chassis of the machines, sniffing around.

The barracks, of course, was locked, but The Rook picked the the door open before I could attempt breaking the windows, or other means of ingress.

The interior looked like someone had slapped a regular barracks onto a garage. To the left side I saw a row of beds, and what appeared to be a bathroom. The center of the room held desks, a computer station, and a walk-in kitchen, but the right side was metal and concrete, filled with the type of equipment you'd see in an auto body shop (they even had those elevator things so you could look under the car and change the oil filter), tires and spare parts stacked up around a dirty little lounge area featuring darts, a pool table and a mini bar.

A black metal box the size and shape of an industrial first aid kit had been securely fastened to one of the walls. It locked with a keypad, but The Rook bypassed it by unscrewing the panel and fiddling with the wires.

Inside we found a rack of keys, arranged according to number, more than two hundred in total. I wondered why I hadn't seen that many in the lot, but then again, a lot of the hooks were empty.

The Rook pocketed a handful of these keys, seemingly at random, but Caitlyn said "Wait."

She pulled the Hustler air freshener out of her jacket pocket, removing the key from the cardboard padding it had been stuffed into. The key she compared to the empty hooks inside the metal box.

"You think that's a car key?"

Caitlyn nodded. "It definitely looks like something that goes here."

The Rook took her key, scratching a bit of dirt from one of its faces. "23."

He checked the numbered hooks and found a key that matched its exact land and groove configuration. "By jove! A duplicate!" he laughed. "How did you come to have this in your possession?"

"Long story," I said. "You think you can find the actual car?"

The key belonged to an army green Hummer. Like all the vehicles on the lot, it had been well maintained, but showing signs of recent use. Moe pulled me away from the vehicle the moment I touched the key to the lock.

"Don't. What if it's a bomb?"

I rolled my eyes. "You think a person impatient enough to blow me up with a car bomb would wait this many weeks to do it?"

"Maybe it's anti-theft protection."

"I think this place is making you overly paranoid."

"It worked for me so far, hasn't it?" He held out his hand. "Let me do it. _Just in case._ "

I smirked. " _How very chivalrous of you._ " I handed him the key.

He turned it in the door, but nothing happened. It appeared to be just a regular transponder key, and a regular lock.

I explained to Moe what had happened and how I came to have the lock in my possession. "What do you think that means?"

He shrugged. "Maybe the guy that left it just wanted an escape vehicle."

Moe stuck the key in the ignition. "You should probably get back. People generally set up explosives in the starter. I've seen them in the ignition switch, the spark plug, the battery, sometimes they get creative and play around with the pistons..."

For Caitlyn's sake, I backed away, pulling her along with me.

When the engine started up, everything electronic in the cabin flickered like a strobe light.

"Shit!" Moe said, dragging me and Caitlyn even further from the area.

We watched the Hummer for a tense minute, waiting for it to flower into a ball of fire and hurl shrapnel everywhere.

Instead, a screen unfolded from the dashboard, and I heard a woman's voice speaking from the sound system.

Since there apparently wasn't a bomb, I climbed inside the hummer and saw my namesake on the screen, a couple of those people I'd seen in the `electrical musical chairs' eating and chatting away in the background.

"While the Planet Thedus presents us with a wealth of mineral ores," the woman said. "I have just recently discovered a type of fungus which appears to have curative powers. Tests performed on rats (primary source of food for miners at this location - they have farms and a sterilization process) show the material can reverse the effects of aging, and even reduce cancer cells to a smaller, more benign state.

"Although I am technically only a warrant officer on the Nostromo, I'm the one who initially discovered the healing properties of the substance. I slipped and fell and it got into an open cut. Not the best way to discover the cure to disease, but I'm alive, and the cut closed up like nothing happened.

"In fact, the skin around the area now looks younger than the rest of my hand. We're thinking this could revolutionize the field of medicine, or at least give Neosporin a run for its money.

"Recently they've assigned me the task of slicing rat brains. It's not in my job description, but when you're in space and lack a staffing pool, you learn to be versatile."

The time stamp changed, and the woman started talking about a distress call from LV-426.

Before I could listen to the rest of it, I heard a familiar voice saying, "Where do you want this?"

I turned around and saw _Camille, standing outside the door_ , with what appeared to be a duplicate of her own screaming head clutched in her hands.

"Here." The Rook grinned and tossed it into my lap.

I took one look and screamed, throwing it to the floor.

But then, when I had caught my breath, and looked back at the allegedly dead woman, I gave the head a closer examination.

"One hundred percent synthetic," The Rook said with an air of pride. "It was devilishly difficult to fool your android's medical scanning equipment, but _if there's a will, there's a way._ "

"You bastard!" I shouted. "That wasn't funny!"

The Rook let out a guffaw. _"Maybe not to you...!"_

[0000]

Note: The (missing text) near the top is very real.

You see, Easter afternoon, I spent several hours typing up the shorthand notes for this week's entry, but I put the document file on a flash drive, then got confused because I normally delete the document on my flash drive and copy the new text file from the desktop onto the flash, as backup.

Well, since it was on another computer, I decided to just do all my work from the flash drive, and in my groggy state, I actually deleted the document from the flash drive, then deleted the document from the desktop, too, because it was old, and didn't have all the new writing on it.

The documents were gone forever. I tried downloading a couple free recovery programs, but they were hard to use, and came up with zero results when I typed in the exact file name of the document I wanted to undelete.

So it is extremely ironic when Big Bird says "saving," as I had to write half of this completely from scratch.

There's one thing worse than writing something from memory, it's not being able to remember what you wrote, and only coming up with prose that sounds like what you wrote, but isn't nearly as good as everything you accidentally erased. If only I had a time machine!

At any rate, maybe it was for the best. I got so fed up with trying to recreate my forgotten story pieces that I decided to write it from a different character's POV to keep myself from smashing the computer to bits.

Now we get more Pillow injected into the story, so we at least know she didn't die in the tower.

My only regret is that there were some clever lines that I either can't remember or can no longer work in the current version of the text. There are also missing descriptions and transition paragraphs, I'm afraid.


	56. Chapter 56: Road Trip

Author Note: I revised the last chapter to include the missing piece that introduces Zack to the scene, including a description.

[0000]

* * *

I got out, prodding the woman to see if she were real and not some kind of ghost or holographic trick.

"I know," she said with a smirk. "I'm amazed what they can do with plastics and 3D printers. He made me put on a mask and act like I was screaming..."

Then I noticed the girl that was with her. A thin light skinned African American girl with hair in cornrows.

"Bo Peep?" Fiat cried.

"Thank the maker, we have been spared," the girl answered in Ss'sik'chtokiwij.

Fiat and the other cult members hugged her, welcoming her back into the fold, filling her in on what had happened after the coffins.

The girl was just as sad as the others about the loss of Tido. As I listened, I discovered that I and Hosea had replaced the man in the position of leadership.

Well, at least they'd learn how to be normal, I thought. Ish.

"Not that I'm complaining," I said to Mr. Hattam. "But you just left your nephew behind. You gonna go pick him up sometime?"

 _"Fugghett-about it!,_ " he said, copping a gangster accent. "Anyhow, there's plenty of ways around this island if you know where to look... _especially when your girlfriend has connections._ "

"So you're leaving him to fend for himself."

"Not...exactly. Did you want him to come along? `Cause if you do..."

"No," I said. "It just seemed odd, you know. I mean, _he's your nephew..._ "

"He's made his own decisions," Zack said. "If he wants to leave, I've baked him a few cakes _with files in them._ "

Camille seemed nervous around Ss'sik'chtokiwij, but completely comfortable with Abreyas. Noting that Ippi stood among them without being harmed, though, she carefully stepped around Lammy, looking the Abreya in the eyes.

"Quana?"

Ippi frowned. "What."

"I thought you were dead!"

Ms. Snarken rolled her eyes. " _I got better._ "

"She's not who you think," Pillow said.

"It seems like nothing in this place is. What is she, a robot?"

 _"Something a little more mundane, I'm afraid,"_ Ippi said with a sour expression. _"King Daddy had a little love affair."_

I stared at her."King Daddy?"

"Quana was the princess of Pathilon," Camille said.

Ippi nodded. _"And the stupid bitch threw it all away.._ "

Camille turned red. "Hey! That's my son's wife you're talking about!"

"Tell me something, _mother,_ " Ippi said. "Why does the prince not look like you? Why does he have fur and a tail?"

"I don't know. He said it was due to all those alien foods he kept eating. Of course, he was also treated by some alien doctors who gave him strange things intravenously..."

"You've never seen him walk around barefoot, Ippi," Pillow said. "He lacks a second pair of opposable thumbs."

Ippi looked at Camille, then chuckled when she noticed no expression of disagreement. "Looks like you've got the raw deal, then. While you're stuck in this hell hole, your son is off on another planet, fooling around with his palace servant!...speaking of which, have you even sent him a distress call? Maybe ask him to send someone to get us the fuck out of here?"

Camille shook her head. "They took my... _thing_ when they abducted me."

Ippi snapped her tail in frustration. " _And of course you had_ no idea _that it was going to happen beforehand..."_

"Did _you?"_ Camille asked.

Ippi made no reply.

"I _have_ a communicator," Pillow said. "The trouble is, no one will rescue me because I'm a missionary."

 _"Yeah..."_ Ippi groaned. "And your princess fucked everything up for me too." She gave Camille a cold look. "If I ever get out of here alive, your son is dead."

"It's not his fault!" Camille protested. "It's that damn organization!"

"An organization we could blow the shit out of if your bible thumping son and his brainwashed wife hadn't made this a religious issue!"

"I was clubbed over the head and dragged out of my house in the middle of the night!" Camille yelled.

"And they'll club you again if you don't lower your voice!" Moe scolded.

"Please," Pillow said. "Fighting amongst ourselves isn't going to get us off this island."

Ippi sighed. "Maybe it's best if I take the other vehicle."

Camille made a nervous dance around Julia, reaching for Pillow's tail, but the female, understanding that the woman was greeting her, just smiled and offered her hand. "Dusaq. guvicoh redaheo gosa becuro podocik moqo sijaakomi."

Instead of looking baffled like I thought she would, Camille replied, "Kaicikjeko. Mucodjegcik coz qiolfamfiga ucukyai. Cahna Pillow, zaib?"

Pillow nodded. "Your Wava is very good. Your son taught you well."

Camille reddened a little at this. "Please. No need to flatter me. I haven't had a good opportunity to practice your silly language for years."

"You've retained a lot more than you think. Other than stressing the wrong syllables a couple times, you converse like a native."

 _"Umuacik,"_ Camille said with a smile.

"I have always wanted to meet you in person," Pillow said.

She showed Camille the baby. " _This_ is Quana. Half human, just like your son. I thought it would honor the princess's memory."

Camille placed a hand on the mother's shoulder. "Thank you. Not a day goes by that I don't at least think of her. She was like a daughter to me."

She smiled at Nathan. "Your boy looks just like Matt's when he was his age."

She paused. "Except the feet of course...where's his clothing?"

"We were in a hurry to leave," Pillow said. "Ordinarily he doesn't wear any. Nobody comes over anyway. His development has been stunted and he makes messes. I've been trying to train him, but it isn't quite working in all this chaos. He can barely talk. We'll have to find him some clothing and get him trained when we get home."

"If we get home," Ippi said.

Pillow frowned. _"Well..."_

"Sorry to interrupt your little reunion," Zack said, anxiously watching the perimeter of the lot. "But we really need to go now."

I nodded.

As large as the vehicle was, we couldn't all fit inside. Technically, it could only seat seven. As unlucky as it was to split up, someone would have to take the second vehicle.

Me, Mark, Moe (I had to have a bodyguard), Hosea, Camille and Caitlyn were non-negotiable, as were Pillow, her children, and Ernie's family.

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij climbed in the trunk and rear seats. Mark didn't take a seat at all, preferring to hang out on the floor by the driver's seat, near me.

Camille seemed mistrustful of Moe, mentioning that others of his kind roughed her up, but she boarded the vehicle anyway.

Pillow held Quana in her lap, Sharad keeping watch over Nathan in the back, with Lammy and the others.

"I hate to do this," I said as I looked over the rest of my group. "But we can't all fit. Any volunteers for car number two?"

"I'll follow after you with Haman and the kids," Ippi said.

"Pillow's children stay," I said. "Where they go, I go."

The female put her hands on her hips. "I meant the _humies_ , genius. I appreciate the sentiment, though."

She bounced Pillow's deformed child.

"You're taking Haman?" the baby's mother said with a skeptical tone.

 _"He's grown on me._ "

"Okay, but what if he gets hungry?"

"I've laid an egg before," Ippi said. " _He'll have milk._ "

Pillow gave her a thankful nod.

"I want to stay with you," Absolute said to me. "I'm no longer _Shasharmakim._ "

"Neither am I," said Guessica.

"So you would travel with our gods and leave us behind," said Bo Peep.

I shook my head. "We'll be with you the whole time. We're just going to be riding in separate vehicles. If you get stopped or something, we can always circle back. If you really want to help Shasharmazorb," I suggest you do it."

"We split up on that elevator," Fiat said. "Look how that turned out."

"Still," I said. "There's no room!"

The cult kids split in two, making fists as they glared at each other. I was surprised no one drew a knife.

"Looks like there's only one way to solve this without a fight," Zack muttered, pulling out a deck of playing cards. He showed them to the children. "Pick a card. Any card."

Guessica picked an ace of diamonds, Absolute a four of clubs, Bo Peep a joker and Fiat a king of hearts.

Zack shuffled the deck, drawing out the four of clubs and the joker.

Thus Guessica and Fiat were assigned the second vehicle. Nobody was very happy about the arrangement, but they couldn't say it was unfair.

The Hummer was packed, but Moe was asking, "You sure we shouldn't take one of these Houdinis along? Maybe pump them for information along the way?"

I frowned. I _did_ want some information, but I didn't want to have anyone else left behind.

As my eyes were searching the interior for a potential candidate, Hosea's gaze met mine, and she seemed to get it right away.

"I'll be fine," she said, climbing out.

"All right, Mr. Rook," I said. "You're coming with us."

 _"As a prisoner of war,_ I take it?"

I shrugged.

The man laughed. "I must forewarn you. I have a problem with _handcuffs and restraints_. An _allergy_ , if you will."

"I'm familiar with your _allergy_ ," I said. "Don't worry. If you try anything, we'll just kill you. Get in."

Ippi handed Haman to Guessica.

"Oh, and Ellie?" the Abreya said to me. _"One last thing before we go._ "

She shoved me against the Hummer, punched me in the gut, then hit me in the face.

"That's for making me into your sacrificial lamb!"

She yanked the baby out of Guessica's arms and stomped off with a snarl.

We rearranged ourselves slightly as Zack acquired a Jeep to follow us in, and fueled up both our vehicles.

The Rook had to sit up front, with Moe behind him, gun at the ready, in case the man pulled any tricks.

I unrolled the map, comparing it to our surroundings. I had a fairly good idea where to go, due to Willie and Big Bird's conversations the night before.

The Rook confirmed the route, which made me suspicious, but I didn't have any other ideas on how to proceed, so I went with it.

According to the map, we needed to travel northward in a straight line, passing through the Red and Black zones until we reached Core.

Step 1: Exit the Purple Zone and cross through Blue.

Unknown to me until that moment, each zone contained `mile markers', each bearing the designated color, cleverly hidden in places that were only noticeable if you know what you were looking for.

For example, a marker could be a rock or tree spray painted with a purple mark, or a rusted broken down car with purple tagging. There were posts with plain flags. If you didn't know what they were, you'd think most of it was something the water and gas service used during survey, to indicate where the pipes went. At least the dashboard had a built in compass.

I fumbled with the manual gearshift for a moment before figuring it out enough to make the vehicle move. The engine made protesting grinding sounds.

The Hummer bumped over a set of railroad tracks and traveled down a long dirt road, hemmed in on both sides by what was essentially cattle pasture as far as the eye could see. Trees and tall bushes blocked the view to most of it. The rest was flat. I saw barns here and there, but that was about it.

"I was being tortured back there!" I said to the magician. "Why didn't you help?"

 _"You saw the people,_ " he said. "A game was being played by all the nations of the world, and we were in the thick of it. It simply wouldn't do to interrupt business.

"As bad as that business may be, I value my head. One foolish indiscretion could bring the wrath of half the world down upon my shoulders. A game like this must be played with an ace up one's sleeve, and I came up short at that particular moment. My best strategy, therefore, was to bluff and pretend I was going along with it. You have my deepest, most sincere apologies."

I sighed.

"Look, if it's any consolation, I have just rid your vehicle of bugs and tracking devices."

He shook his hand out, like it were wet or sticky, and a black camera bubble appeared in his palm. "Well (ahem), save for this one." He tossed it through the open window.

I decided to accept his explanation for the time being. "So. You're The Rook."

 _"Well,"_ the man said. " _Yes and no_. It's a bit like bloody _Spartacus_ , isn't it? Some anonymous person slips you a playing card that's actually a security key, leads you to your partner in crime, and tells you to `pay it forward'. But then someone comes along and leaves your calling cards on a pile of dead bodies. It's discouraging, to say the least."

"Did you secretly give me all that stuff when I was in the `Home Project'? The doll and all those clues, I mean?"

The man frowned and stroked his goatee. "What doll?"

The ignorant look was convincing enough. It seemed counterproductive to go further with that particular line of inquiry. "Never mind. You _were_ on the Disney barge, though, weren't you? You _did_ help me track down Sil."

"That was mainly my associate," he said. "But I placed the disguises in the Jesus booth. Unfortunately, I had to kill a gentleman in order to do it. _He was about to report me to security, you see._ "

"You killed Donnie?" Caitlyn cried from the seat behind me.

Simon let out a heavy sigh, his expression grim. _"Your relation, I take it._ "

"You killed my uncle!" she sobbed. "He was the only family I had left!"

Simon puffed air through his cheeks. "How can I put this politely...your uncle was a child molester, and he intended to betray your friends, and my friend's nephew into the hands of the nasty sorts of people that they were escaping from."

"It's a lie!" Caitlyn wailed. "You're just saying that! My uncle was a good Christian!"

"He had a membership pass to the writer's lounge in the Mickey Mouse club. _Executive privileges, that!_ He even filled out a survey saying he favored boys." He tossed her a red plastic disk.

"The moment Ms. Ripley picked you up, I surmised that you would be in need of evidence," he said as she stared at it. "Go on, place it in the video player on the back of the seat. It has his identifying details and video footage."

Caitlyn just cried and threw it at him.

Our magician winced, then chuckled softly as he rubbed his head. "Ow. _It appears we have a cricketer in training!_ "

I wanted to comfort my daughter, but I had to keep driving. "Caitlyn. _We still have each other._ "

"Yeah?" she said in a tearful voice. "For how long?"

Camille leaned over her seat, putting her arms around the girl. "Where did you grow up, sweetie?"

"Why does that matter?" Caitlyn asked.

"It matters because I'm a Homeschooler. You grow up in the devil's playground, you start to think there's no hope at all in this world."

"Austin," Caitlyn said. "That's where I was born."

"You don't have an accent."

Caitlyn wrinkled her nose. "You _really are_ a Homeschooler."

Then she was crying again. "What hope do I really have?"

Camille told her all about Jesus. The woman knew a great deal about the bible, providing us with a wealth of forbidden knowledge, truths that the governments of the world did not want us to hear.

Caitlyn became a Christian, and in a way that outshined my attempts. For my own peace of mind, I repeated the words of her confession of faith, feeling reborn. I found myself wiping tears out of my eyes so I could see where I was driving.

Mark, in a misguided attempt to comfort me in what he saw as sadness, accidentally got down in the pedal area, and I had to shoo him away to avoid rolling over an embankment. Only when everyone felt confident that I wasn't going to wreck did they say much more than `look out!'

When calm resumed, I could hear Pillow congratulating Camille on her witness.

I think Absolute would have been converted too, but during Caitlyn's conversion, I could see from the rearview that he looked too scared to participate.

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij murmured in the background, discussing the problems they faced, sharing minds when concepts didn't translate.

Bo Peep, worshipful of them, was all to eager to contribute to this mental communication the moment she was given the opportunity.

She ended up crying in the corner of the trunk.

Julia and Sharad apparently had a history together, for I heard them talking about something back there. I couldn't quite hear it over the engine and the wind blowing in through the windows, but it seemed friendly enough, a little spot of happiness in the oppressive gloom.

The larva appeared to have been given some memory of the Abreya girl as well, for they also behave amicably towards her.

The English chatter between Pillow and the Ss'sik'chtokiwij behind her seemed to indicate they also knew each other from somewhere.

The conversations between they and Camille seemed to do wonders for the solidarity of my team.

This harmony got disrupted somewhat when Sharad decided to join minds with Julia. Pillow yelled warnings at her, but it was a little too late when the connection had been made. After what had happened with Jen-Jen, she knew not to break the contact.

"Simon," I said. "How did _you_ end up in this place?"

The magician coughed. "To put it succinctly, I picked the wrong pocket. My trade does not always reap the best dividends, you see, so sometimes I was forced to _supplement._ One of them just so happened to be a staffer at DAMBALLAH."

He didn't explain any more than that. I didn't really care who he stole from, so we both remained quiet.

I tried to turn on the recording, to hear about Ripley's distress call, but it seemed the playback didn't work while the vehicle was in motion. I decided I'd check it later, if I had time.

In the back, Pillow and Camille watched Sharad in anxious silence. We were all watching them, actually, though I had to keep my eyes on the road most the time.

I heard groaning in the back as Sharad finally broke the connection with Julia.

In the rearview, I could see her rubbing her face, shaking her head. "Sarah had no life! It's so sad! The people were just...using her as a baby making machine! No love, just babies!"

"It still doesn't excuse what he did," Pillow said. "You shouldn't have sex with someone just because you felt sorry for them."

"Yeah, but the moment she met...father...her mind filled with feelings of love and sexual thoughts. She left them all over Julia's mind... _like landmines_. It's like you're naked in there."

"There's something called willpower, Sharad!"

They argued loudly, and we had the air conditioner switched on for a few moments, so I could actually hear what they were saying.

"Wait," I said. "He really..."

"No," said Pillow. "At least I don't think so."

Sharad furrowed her brow. "Definitely not. Something tried to kill them. They were interrupted at the beginning of coitus."

"And that's supposed to make it all better?"

"Well, no..."

"It didn't change the outcome. She still had a child by him."

 _"Yeah..."_

"Please. Don't tell me any more. It's not helping either one of us get over this...this... _affair._ I know what I promised in the rite of Remvuaf, but..." Pillow sighed. "This is exactly why I didn't want you to... _do that._ "

Pillow and Camille jabbered in Wava about something for a few minutes, then Sharad joined the conversation.

Absolute looked a little uncomfortable to be in the middle of all that incomprehensible noise.

They must have noticed this at some point, for the Camille said, "You poor boy, stuck in the middle of all these aliens and listening to us prattle. Bet you don't even know what we're saying."

Absolute shrugged. "I was raised in a bilingual family. Korean and English. I'm used to it. And I always liked _E.T._ "

Caitlyn smiled and rubbed his head.

The boy asked her how she met the Abreyas, and she went into a long story about how her son wound up married to the most controversial figure in Pathilonian history.

According to her son's stories, Matt had been going to a Homeschooler trade school at the time, and had encountered the disguised princess in one of this automotive repair classes.

What had begun as mere after school bible studies soon developed into an odd sort of romance that ended with him flying away to an alien planet and studying Abreya religion.

"He reads too many of those science fiction novels," she said. "He thought aliens were supposed to have their own gods and messiahs, so they went to Pathilon to find out."

They found alien prophecies that pointed to earth, and Jesus.

Matt also found himself being placed in a zoo.

Fortunately for all parties involved, the queen and her daughter both had a conversion, Matt was released from his cage, and he was even allowed to marry the princess.

Of course, his sudden unexplained transformation into an Abreya had a lot to do with it.

And then, when the wedding came along, Matt dragged his mother and father back across space to meet the alien in-laws.

"It was a bit of a culture shock. The royal family was a little...brusque and strangely improper for kings and queens. They gave me food that stared back at me and tried to move off those things they call plates. I even got arrested at one point. They probably would have put me in a zoo like my son, had the queen not come to my rescue. Oddest wedding I've ever attended."

"I would have liked to see it," Absolute said.

"I actually took some pictures and video, but if we really want out of this place, we're going to have to forget it."

"Why did you end up here?"

"My great nephew Randy thought he was pulling a funny prank when he recorded Matt and Quana in that hotel on their wedding night and posted it online, but the results were anything but!"

"Where's your husband?"

"I don't know, but I hope he stayed put in the Territories where it's safe!"

Without warning, the steering wheel turned on its own, and we went veering off down a connecting road.

Not north.

"What's going on!" Sharad shouted. "Why are we turning?"

Moe scowled. "I was about to ask the same question!"

I had lost control of the steering wheel...and the gas, and the shifter. It was like a scene from Stephen King's _Christine_. No matter what I did, the vehicle continued to do its own thing.

The radio came on, playing _Wheels on Fire_ by the Byrds.

The Jeep honked angrily at us. We could see the faces of our other team members at the windows, mouthing something I couldn't understand.

And then they too found themselves taking this unexpected route against their will.

"Mommy!" Caitlyn cried. "What's happening? What's wrong with the car?"

" _Hummer!"_ Absolute corrected.

"What?"

"Nothing. I think I just pissed my pants."

"It's not doing what I want it to!" I shouted. _"It's like it's haunted!_ "

 _"It's not haunted,"_ Simon groaned. "They've got it under remote like a bloody remote control sports car!"

"Fuck," Absolute muttered.

"I thought you got rid of all those bugs and tracking devices," I said.

"I thought I did too," said the magician. "But you didn't see me climbing over the seats and hanging from the undercarriage like a sodding cowboy either, now did you?"

"Next time let's just walk," Moe said.

Since I'd lost all control anyway, I let go of the wheel, turning around in the seat.

My bodyguard glared out the window. "I wonder where we're going."

I rubbed my face in frustration. "Nowhere good, I'm sure."

"How about we pop the doors open and jump out?"

As if in response, all the doors locked themselves automatically.

"The bug must be in the trunk," Simon sighed.

"That means they also know what that woman said in the recording," I said.

"Not necessarily. There appeared to be a wiring fault when that device was playing."

"Let's break the windows," Moe said. "Hit the ground rolling."

"I don't want to hurt my babies," Pillow said.

"I'll break my hip, or worse," Camille agreed. "I'm not that young anymore."

Moe slammed his fist against the paneling. "Damn!"

The hummer bumped down the dirt road for a few miles, then bounced up on blacktop.

"How did they know we'd be taking these specific ones?" I cried. "It doesn't make sense!"

"Right," Moe said. "It's impractical and expensive to put remotes under all two hundred or so vehicles... _Unless Mr. Magic was behind it the whole time!"_

Simon raised his hands. "Please. You must believe, I had nothing to do with this!"

"Right. _Likely story!_ "

"I saw a man sneaking around this machine," Julia said. "I did not speak of it because I saw Hosea kill him and drag his body away too quickly. I thought it inconsequential. The threat, after all, had been neutralized."

"As did I," said Simon. "At the moment, my sole concern was not being fired upon...and not being devoured by... _your kin._ Perhaps a second infiltrator sabotaged the Jeep."

"Can I shoot him now?" Moe asked. "Please?"

I shook my head. "For future reference, everybody, if you see something, say something, okay?"

Simon flicked Moe's gun clip from one hand to the other, then made it disappear.

"I see something right now," Moe grumbled. "Give it back!"

"Don't you mean you `unsaw' something?"

 _"Simon..."_ I scolded.

The man tossed the gun magazine into Moe's lap. "Bah, you're no fun at all."

The Hummer continued on down the dirt road.

"Looks like we're stuck going...wherever they want," I said.

Up ahead, I could see a possible destination: A big glass and steel structure reminding me of a super shopping mall, or the headquarters of some big multinational corporation.

The glittering green color of the building prompted Moe to comment, "Looks like friggin' Emerald City."

I swallowed. "Something tells me this is not a wizard I want to see."

[0000]

* * *

Note: I suspect I should have left Camille dead.

Camille has just given you the abbreviated version of my novel entitled _God, Love and Starships_ , the prequel on which all the Abreya stories are based. If anything she mentioned here confuses you, let me know so I can put in explanations.

As much as I'd like to post the story here in its entirety, it would be longer than the drive (the Hummer would be at the goal already), I'd lose whatever readers I still have (it's a bit slow and corny, no xenomorphs or violence(, and it needs to be rewritten to fit into the Homeschooler scenario (it's a little like The Hobbit before Lord of the Rings existed - it's cute, but missing certain darker realities).

That being said, is there any topic brought up by the abbreviated story that make this too confusing or unreadable?


	57. Chapter 57: The Siebers Complex

Flags bearing the snake and lotus symbol flapped in the wind as our small convoy neared the building.

The front approach resembled that of a casino or a hotel, with a circle drive and a road leading to a parking garage. It had a paved front walk with fountains and a green bronze sculpture of a pistol at its center.

The hummer pulled up beneath a porte-cochere, and when it stopped, the doors automatically opened, and a group of children in valet uniforms came out a sliding glass door, a pair of them ushering us into the building while the others attended to our transport.

The interior was a corporate utopia reminding me of Google or Bloomberg, manned by children. They had coffee shops, restaurants, video arcades, quiet rooms where you could nap, a gym with a pool, apartments, grocery stores, basically anything an employee would want to stay in a building 24-7.

Many of the staffers I recognized right away, having personally liberated them from cages onboard the Ariel or biked alongside them in the power plant inside the Disney barge.

No guards, no guns, no deadly traps. The kids in this place all wore normal sex appropriate clothing, and looked almost... _happy_.

There were indeed jobs for children to do, but they could hardly be considered sweatshop child labor. Instead of running military computers, they sat behind computer terminals, analyzing data from the stock markets, monitoring the energy grid, copy-pasting industry data into text to speech systems for podcasts and other public transmissions all across America and the world. Others worked on systems for global internet systems like Afexun and Google. They had an entire playroom for virtual reality and holographic experimentation.

The moment we stepped inside, Bo Peep abruptly stopped, crying and whimpering abut something she'd seen during her mind connection.

Camille hurried over to her, holding her, sharing some comforting words of faith.

I heard Pillow growling something in Wava to her daughter, perhaps scolding her for also joining minds with Julia.

I couldn't understand it, but Camille did. The moment the woman had calmed Bo Peep down sufficiently, she turned to the Abreya and said, "My son said that your people are much more...open about things. He said that parents don't care if their children catch them making love in the bedroom."

"It's the principle of it, Camille," Pillow snapped. "I told her not to do it and she did it anyway."

She paused. "Okay, so maybe my husband is rubbing off on me."

"I thought husbands were supposed to do that," Moe joked.

That only made her scowl.

"I'm sorry, umma," Sharad said. "I...but you should see it. Then you'd understand."

"What I understand is that you and my husband both have scars in and around their nostrils, and maybe something in your brains as well, and you both witnessed what is essentially mental pornography."

"Kigo, umma."

Pillow shook her head. "Don't do that again."

She looked down at Julia. "Has my husband... _made use of your services_ lately?"

"Some," the Ss'sik'chtokiwij admitted. "They sent thoughts back and forth to refine the female's verbal communication...he has also developed a sort of _mental clothing_ to preserve decency, furthermore, he has caused the female to comprehend.. _.his guilt_. I believe they have arrived at a socially and religiously acceptable understanding of their relationship."

"What was that cute little human expression again?" Pillow mused. "The proof of the pudding...?"

"I do not know," Julia said. "Pudding makes me vomit. I believe I may have diabetes."

Pillow chuckled. "I somehow doubt that's what you have. Your mother had the same problem. _Allergies,_ perhaps."

"Yes, that may be the right term."

Moe's eyes swept the corridor we passed through, knife in hand, because he had no clip in his gun.

The PA system was playing ` _Science Is Real_ 'by They Might Be Giants, a song that implied that evolution and the big bang were real, and God and angels were not, which bothered me.

"Mommy," Caitlyn said. "If God created the universe, why is there a big bang?"

I shook my head. "You can't believe both at the same time. Even though atheists don't believe in God, they will be quick to say that God doesn't place dice with the universe."

Pillow, who had been walking behind me, chimed into the conversation. "Perhaps, but an expert billiard player can knock all fifteen balls into the pockets in one shot. It's not a bang, it's a break shot."

"Is that what your religion teaches?" Caitlyn asked.

Pillow smiled. "We don't have pool on my planet, but the concept illustrates our creation story well. Ponai created what you call the Doppler Shift for a reason."

The PA system then transitioned into _`My Brother the Ape'_.

"What about evolution? Do you believe in that too?"

"Foqipi," the Abreya said. "Just because a Model T has the same type of parts as a Ford F-150 doesn't mean they weren't built by someone, in separate assembly lines."

She sighed. "That was one of my husband's favorite metaphors."

Moe marched up to Simon. "Could I have my clip back?"

"Say please," Simon answered through his teeth.

Moe did, and the item was tossed back.

"Do be a good sport and not aim that thing at me."

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij scampered freely about the building, sniffing at everything, examining the stations with curiosity.

Absolute and Guessica followed them around, speaking to them in their language.

"Don't wander off," I scolded the aliens. "I don't want to have to rescue you again."

"The same goes for the rest of you runts," Moe said to the children. "Don't make me find leashes."

That corrected their roaming somewhat, but Julia was a bad influence, encouraging the others to take in the smells of the Starbucks, Pizza Hut, and other fragrant establishments.

And, of course, Mark had to see what all the fuss was about, too. Moe resorted to grabbing the boy by the tail, on account of his spines, and dragging him away from places.

Bo Peep appeared to be still in a daze. The mind link appeared to have robbed her of life, forcing her into sort of an introspective catatonia. I wasn't sure how to help her. I was glad she at least had the sense to keep up with the group.

Hearing footsteps, I turned around and saw the child valets letting in Ippi, Zack, Fiat, Hosea and Guessica. Through the windows, I could see the vehicles being driven away to the parking garage.

Moe was right. We should have just walked.

I noticed Hosea carrying around a rucksack. Without a word, she passed this to me.

I came close to dropping it on account of the weight.

The bag was full of guns.

"I found this in the trunk of the vehicle," she said. "I think they will be useful."

"Yes," I said. "Definitely."

"I'm having difficulties blending in with the others. How can I be more human?"

I answered, "I don't know. I'm not sure I do such a good job of it myself. Just...observe other people and try to do what they do."

She smiled. "That is a very good idea."

Ippi, in the meantime, had been lugging a weight of her own.

"Here. Hold the baby. I'm tired of carrying his fat butt."

Ippi handed Haman over to Camille, and the woman nearly dropped it.

Both adult Abreyas gave her piercing stares, the expectation clear on their faces.

Camille smiled at them like the cat that ate the canary, pressing the deformed baby to her breast.

It was clear that she wasn't fond of the infant, but she wanted to maintain a good friendship with the aliens, so she put up with the boy, stroking his fur and bouncing him.

When the baby reacted positively, with soft animal sounds and a trusting embrace, the woman chuckled and let her guard down somewhat, almost like it were a normal human baby.

"Which way is north?" I asked loudly enough to solicit a response from anyone in the group.

"I don't know," Moe said. "I don't have a compass. Maybe if we had a magnet and a glass of water or something..."

Nobody else made any suggestions.

As we explored the place, Zack walked alongside Simon, telling him about their little trip.

"She kept playing with the cup holders," Zack was saying. "I actually had to slap her hand away from the gear shift, just like she were a little kid. What's wrong with that woman, anyway?"

Guessing he was referring to Hosea, I explained the situation.

That's when we noticed the woman seating herself in an empty desk in one of the offices, punching random keys on a keyboard. I rolled my eyes.

Absolute stepped in front of Simon, coming close to tripping him. "Hey. Show me how to do a magic trick."

"Oh very well," the man groaned.

Simon handed the boy a little black box, showing him how to do the Disappearing Coin Illusion.

Once Absolute figured it out, he handed the box back.

"No, no, keep it," the man said with a completely serious expression. " _I must insist_! What good is it to teach a _young apprentice_ the _ancient mysteries of an art_ without the means to demonstrate what he has learned?"

Absolute grinned and pocketed the object. "Thanks, Simon!"

Simon took a bow.

I hadn't noticed it before, but the man was skittish around Ss'sik'chtokiwij. The moment any approached him, he shook and broke into sweats.

I wondered why I hadn't noticed this before, when we'd been in the Hummer or in the Unified Government building, but I supposed seeing them roaming so openly around the place rattled his nerves more than usual.

Come to think of it, I _had_ seen his face beading up with perspiration, even before, but I had thought it due to heat or other factors.

"How did you get associated with these... _stage acts?_ " Pillow asked Camille.

"They helped me out of my prison cell. I think they were looking for something or someone else."

"Excuse me... _Moe,_ " Simon said to my friend. "Do be a good chap and see what is being done with our vehicles."

Moe made no move to obey. " _I've seen it._ From now on, we're using _leg power._ "

Simon gave him a sour face.

"What do you think I am, your personal butler?"

"Your boyfriend knows more than he lets on," Ippi whispered to me.

"Really?" I said. "About what?"

"About... _everything_. He knows all about the aliens in this place, and where they are. You should be asking him more questions."

I marched up to my big friend. "Moe, you'd tell me if you knew something, right?"

"About what," he said.

"Anything. This place. Anything that would help us out."

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

I just smirked at him.

He narrowed his eyes at Ippi. _"Did she say something?"_

"She says you know a lot about aliens."

He laughed. "I'm _familiar_ with a few critters, if that's what you mean. _I didn't do much more than transport._ I'm not part of the inner circle or anything."

"It might have been better if you were," I said.

In the background, I could hear part of the Giants' song about paleontology, which mentioned the Archaeopteryx like it were as valid a fossil as the T-Rex, despite the fact only scientists who believe the fossil is genuine are permitted to see it.

Caitlyn pulled me aside, away from Camille, glancing nervously at the woman as she spoke in low tones. "Mommy, I know I'm a...Homeschooler now and everything, but can we really trust that lady? I mean, those people at the _other place_ said they were Homeschoolers, but then they were all scary and tried to kill us."

In the Hummer, Caitlyn had asked my permission before allowing herself to be converted. I told her it was all right.

I thought about the so-called pastor at that other place, and Mrs. Veebock smothering that child, and a chill ran down my back. "I don't know if this helps, but Camille is _different_. She knows what's going on, and she _cares._ That stuff she told us in the Hummer, it sounds genuine. I think we can trust her."

"I hope you're right."

I gave her an apologetic look. "I wish I could find you a better family. One where you'd be safe and cared for, and not almost being killed all the time."

She hugged me. "As long as I have you and Moe, it's enough."

A bunch of staff kids marched Hosea out of the office, leading her into a counter in an adjacent cafe.

Fiat tugged on my hand. "Could you send a telepathic message to Shasharmazorb about Gretchen and Bobby and Mike? I don't know if you know who I'm talking about, but I'm sure _she_ will if you mention them to her. Just ask her for the usual things. And maybe my relatives, if they're still alive."

"I'm not telepathic," I said. "But you can ask her when you meet her."

He didn't seem to like that answer. "What about Hosea? Would _she_ be able to do it?"

I stared at the adult woman, who was, at the moment, licking a glass window. "Uh...maybe?"

"Can you be my mother?" he asked.

I sighed. "Oh, I suppose. Anymore, I seem to be everyone's mother. I feel like Wendy in Peter Pan."

The boy reddened. "Oh no no. I don't want to have sex with you. I just want you to be my mother."

"I thought that's what I meant." And then I thought about it for a moment. "Wait. Why would you think...? Never mind. Don't tell me. I'm never watching a movie again."

"Anyway," Fiat said. "You and Hosea should get married. You'd be good for each other."

"I don't like girls," I said.

Fiat gave me a look like she didn't believe me.

Hosea was now marching around with an iced frappuccino topped with caramel glazed whipped cream, which she absently slurped like a dog as she stared at this building, this microcosm of American capitalism.

Seeing her sniffing around a game room featuring billiards and darts, Fiat followed her in, asking the woman questions in Ss'sik'chtokiwij.

"Don't stray too far from the group!" I yelled. "I don't want to leave you behind!"

"Speaking of which," said Moe. "Let's blow this pop stand before the trap closes shut."

Too late. We found Josh and Kamara waiting for us on a padded bench in front of the offices.

Along one side of the hallway, there stood a tall wall sculpture, in an abstract design, which also served as a fountain. The sculptural pieces were small, cube shaped, and arranged like a staircase or a rock climbing wall, but obviously not designed for actual climbing.

Nathan didn't appear to understand the concept of `hands off' art, for he immediately splashed up the fountain, climbing around on the blocks.

"Nathan!" Pillow shouted. "Get down from there!" But the boy was already swinging from one of the flower boxes on the upper level balcony.

"Sharad! Go get your sister!"

"Gip'm, umma," Sharad said, and as the older girl chased after her brother, I could hear Pillow muttering, "I almost want to put that tracker back in!"

Moe caught himself pointing his gun at Simon, turned it in another direction, cast him a suspicious glance.

Ippi crept up to him, lowering her voice. "What, you suddenly trust this guy now?"

Moe shook his head. "It's complicated."

 _"I can simplify things._ Just say the word."

Moe didn't reply. He just looked uneasy.

Ippi pulled out her pistol. "Don't worry. I got him covered."

 _"Do you?"_ Simon laughed. "If I were you, I'd check my associate's pockets."

 _"I did,"_ Ippi said. "And I stole the bullets back."

Zack gave him an apologetic shrug.

Simon swallowed.

Lammy growled something to Amos, and the two scurried up Pillow's back, onto her shoulders.

The Abreya seemed familiar with this behavior, for her first response was, "Careful, you two. No drooling. You know how it makes the baby cry."

"This infant was born from your own body, correct?" Amos asked. "Like a socmavaj?"

Pillow looked puzzled. "I...suppose?"

"What a fascinating little creature! I'd like to get closer."

"You should not," Lammy said. "Our saliva burns its face. It is difficult."

"I agree," said the Abreya. "Please don't."

Julia rubbed against Pillow's leg, muttering something to her. As I witnessed this, I had a flashback of my earlier mind sharing, a memory of the two on Fiorina 161. It made things a little awkward for me and the Abreya, especially in light of what Sharad had verbalized in the Hummer.

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij climbed down and tried to get a look at Haman, but Camille got scared and backed away the moment they climbed up on her shoes, nearly dropping the baby.

"She needs to get used to you," Julia explained.

The larvae, seeming to understand, turned their attention to staffers who happened to be roaming the hallway, sniffing them, scaring them away.

Guessica, who had been listening to what the Ss'sik'chtokiwij had been saying about the infant, stepped closer to Pillow, smiling at the baby. "Is it okay if _I_ hold her?"

"You held her before," the Abreya said. "Back at the tower."

"I know," said the girl. " _But that was different._ I want to hold her like a _mom._ "

Pillow chuckled and handed her baby over, beaming with a sort of pride as she watched the girl rocking Quana back and forth, cooing to her.

Her smile faded a little. "I still don't understand why you would worship Shasharmazorb."

Guessica played with the infant's tail. "I didn't know that Ss'sik'chtokiwij could die. They're not as powerful as Mr. Golic said they were. It's not something we Shasharmazim talk about. It's like sacrilege, you know."

"We tried to reach Ms. Shasharmazorb for Jesus," Pillow said. "We had _bible studies_. Golic got the wrong idea. Too much time in a prison cell by himself, I think."

Guessica rocked the baby. "Thank you for helping me back at the house, Pillow," she said. "I was really scared and sad, and, and _confused_. You made me feel better."

Obviously she was talking about the time when she'd connected her mind to the Ss'sik'chtokiwij.

Pillow smiled. "I'm glad I could help."

"I'm sorry I thought less of your kind just because you weren't Ss'sik'chtokiwij. You're not any better or worse than them. You're just different."

Mrs. Barnes nodded. "It's okay."

At this moment, Mark, who had been scurrying around my feet, decided to be a little adventurous and ask the Ss'sik'chtokiwij how to speak their language. I guess I could have done the job if he had asked me, but he hadn't.

After Lammy and Amos had given him a few lessons, they wanted to play with him. The three of them ran around us, romping like dogs. To the casual observer, you would have thought they were fighting. I thought it was cute.

"He's surprisingly well behaved," Pillow said to me. "Considering how troublesome Sil was, it's a miracle."

"I don't think Sil was raised right," I said. "And I don't know what Mark will be like when he reaches puberty. I...hope we can find a safe place on your planet, or somewhere, where he can live out his days in peace."

Pillow nodded. "I hope so too."

We stopped by the arcade, just because the children were attracted to it and I wanted to get it out of their system so they could focus on more important things.

The games were a mixture of old classics and new stuff. I was pleased to find that none of them wanted to play the more violent games, such as the latest Area 51 sequel, a holographic police simulation where you shoot a bunch of criminals, nor the violent fighting game featuring completely naked actors in real live action video. Instead they wanted to play Pac-Man, skeeball and pinball.

I thought the lack of money would stop them, but their Afexun accounts allowed them full access.

I leaned against a Xenophobe arcade machine. "Guys, this is cool and everything, but we really need to keep going, or we'll never find Shasharmazorb and get off this island."

Upon hearing the name of their god, or maybe ex-god, they abandoned their games with a surprising amount of restraint and self discipline.

Well, except for Absolute. He was kicking ass in Galaga. Moe had to pull the plug.

The kids filed out of the room.

"We're wasting time," said Ippi. "Let's go."

"You're right," I said. "Let's get out of here. This isn't taking us any closer to our goal."

"After all the trouble we've gone through to impress you?" a familiar voice called.

A small figure in army colors arose from one of the many futons lining the hall.

 _"Kamara,"_ I sighed. "What do you want from me now?"

She gave me a look that said, " _You should know._ "

Josh got up and stood with her, looking like he didn't want to be there.

"Hello, _Orange Lamb_ ," Ippi said to Kamara.

"Hello _Gold Dog_ ," the girl replied. "Have you told your friends about your _little deal_ with The Board?"

"There is no deal," Ippi said. "The Board can eat shit. I was just telling them what they wanted to hear. We're done."

Kamara frowned. "You're a disappointment, Ms. Snarken. What's sad is you think you can actually escape."

Ippi flipped her off, but it seemed she hadn't quite mastered all the nuances of American culture, for the used her ring finger instead of her middle.

The girl spread her arms, inviting me to fully absorb my surroundings. "So. What do you think?"

The young staff milling around the building looked happy and content enough.

It seemed perfect.

A little too perfect.

"What is all this?"

"Welcome to the Ellen Siebers Complex."

"What," I said, disconcerted. "Are you talking about."

"We made this building specially for you, Ellie. It contains everything you want."

I rolled my eyes. " _Now that I seriously doubt!_ "

My skepticism didn't bother her. "This place, it's what you envisioned the moment you chose to rescue all those children from that ship. Take a look around you."

I'd seen enough. "I already have. It's just another one of those special camps for overprivileged kids."

Kamara shook her head. "You couldn't be more wrong. All those `overprivileged' children, as you call them, are currently occupying positions in Purple Rat's territory. What you see around you are actually the children you rescued from the cages onboard the Ariel.

"We've provided them with happy, healthy productive lives, free from abuse, molestation, and anything demeaning enough to fall within the category of sweatshop labor. Clean clothes, clean beds, three nutritionally balanced meals per day."

Noticing me watching a mechanic mentoring a child in an appliance repair shop, Kamara said, "As you can probably guess, this building has its own largely self sustaining economy. The children learn firsthand how to do a job and how their contributions affect others in the complex. There are rewards and demerits, just like in the real world. We also have counseling programs for children that, for one reason or another, cannot find a way to fit into the system. Sometimes new jobs are created to give them a place."

"How can I believe you?" I asked. "You've lied to me so much already."

"I'll take you on a _tour_ ," she said. " _Then you'll see._ "

"She's lying," Ippi said.

I clenched my fists. Unclenched them. "I'd still like to see this."

"Oh brother," she groaned. " _Poniki._ "

Kamara pointed to a wall monitor above a futon. It was showing one of those news programs with naked announcers, but all the naughty bits had been covered up with blurry patches. "2016 censorship rules. We have a system for eliminating offensive and adult content before allowing it to be broadcast on the network. Commercials and programs deemed too unsuitable for our channels are replaced with alternative programming. Age restrictions have been put in place."

Kamara took me to a police station, where androids, adults and official looking children monitored cameras and took reports. "Even in the most ideal society, there is going to be a criminal element. It's unavoidable. Of course, we don't simply lock them up or execute them. At such a young age, we find it more profitable to merely send them to _boot camp..._ "

"That's...a pretty good idea," I said.

The cameras were present, but not everywhere. It appeared the staff actually had to get up from their desks and on occasion do real police work.

She led me out of that office, showing us into a classroom where children received instruction on how to write software code. They had actual _teachers_ that strolled from desk to desk, coaching them on how to write programs.

"There's no way for us to restore the childhoods they've been deprived of, but we can do the next best thing, and make things better for them _now._ "

She showed me the gym, a health club featuring both adult exercise equipment and childish items such as a ball pit, giant play tubes and rubber padded `moon rooms' that you could bounce around in. It was busy with laughing, giggling kids.

"We're the most liberal workforce you can imagine. In addition to breaks and lunches, each child is permitted a generous quantity of recess time. They also get free health, dental..."

"What about the _spirit?_ " I asked.

She led us around to the far end of this huge casino-like place, past a movie theater, to one of those interfaith chapel type places they have in hospitals.

"Now," Kamara said. "I know you would have preferred it to be Christian, but in the interest of _classic democracy_ , we had to make a few _concessions._ "

I didn't recognize the man that stepped out of the confessional at the side of the chapel, but at first glance he seemed okay. Fat, bearded, bespectacled...his eyes were kindly, and he wore the Christian sort of religious garb, complete with stoll and clerical collar.

He smiled at us, giving a friendly wave.

"Religious counselors are available 24-7," Kamara explained. "There's a weekly Christian service, and any type of religious text you might need can be provided. Mostly it's an open place for prayer.

"There is no persecution here. You can freely practice any religion of your choice, as long as you are not physically harming other people. A lot of our employees aren't used to this kind of freedom, but we let them know it's encouraged."

The apartments were spotless and hotel-like Each had their own personal dishwasher, microwave, fridge, stove, clothes washer and drier, bath and shower.

"Every child gets their own room," Kamara said as she showed me one. "To prove that this isn't just a display apartment, pick any apartment number you want and I'll show you inside."

I really put her to the test, opening room after room, on a whim. Any number that popped into my head.

To my surprise, they all looked like normal kids' bedrooms, really messy, and bearing a lot of personal touches.

Not only that, but we caught the owners doing some rather embarrassing, even sexual things in those rooms, making her story that much more convincing.

Hosea plopped down on one of the beds and promptly fell asleep. I didn't bother waking her, as I figured we could do that on the way out.

"Maid services are available if they request them," Kamara said. "Once a month we have awards for clean rooms, so a lot of this gets cleaned up. Mostly. As long as it's not a pest control issue, we let them do what they want."

I followed her up a staircase, checking out more rooms.

"These are the deluxe units. While we do try to maintain a fair sense of equality here, we also believe in rewarding children who excel in their particular departments."

"All right," I said. "What's the catch?"

The look on her face seemed to say that she expected better.

"There isn't one, Ellie. This is your new home. You have your choice of any unit in the building. You can make this place into anything you want. As long as they behave, your alien friends will be free to stay here with you. You can do whatever you want, be whoever you want, live your life any way you choose."

"And if I want to leave?"

She shrugged. " _It would be a waste of company resources._ "

"You'll kill them."

"Ellie," she sighed. "Please. Stay. Help us. Make this place into the society you want. We can make the entire world like this. Just stick around, contribute some ideas. We'll make it happen."

I eyed her with suspicion. "I admit, it's a great show. Everyone looks genuinely...happy. But I don't buy it. The corporations on the outside do the same damn thing. Show you a good exterior while hiding the dirt and exploitation."

 _"I thought you might say that..."_ Kamara said.

She knocked on a door, and out stepped Rosa and her son.

The woman no longer wore a duck costume, but instead had on a cheetah print blouse and black matte leggings. The outfit was tight, but pretty average in 2016 terms. The boy wore jeans and a t-shirt that said Skynet on it.

"Hola, hermanita!" she said. "Welcome to _Neverland Nuevo!_ "


	58. Chapter 58: Pawn

The PA system was playing _`Luvin'_ by The Electric Prunes. It made what I was seeing that much more surreal.

Rosa stared nervously at my extraterrestrial friends, then turned her attention to me. "Bueňo."

"H...hi," I stammered, staring at back. "How...is this place treating you?"

"Bien, bien," she said with a nod. "It's a good place. Lost niňos have found a good home."

"Ms. Siebers is a little... _overwhelmed_ by all of this," Kamara said. "She understandably finds it _a little too good to be true. Perhaps you can help put her mind at ease."_

"Hermanita," Rosa said to me. "You have nothing to worry about. These children...you have _no idea_ how much better this is from the life they had!"

And then her eyes bugged out. "Oh my God! What happened to your arm?"

"Long story," I said, handing Moe my bag of guns. "So...the kids are okay? No abuse, sexual or otherwise?"

"Oh no, seňorita, this place is like _heaven_ compared to what they left!"

I didn't see Smithson with her. I asked about him.

"He's okay. He got assigned a different job. We will meet again later this month."

"So he's alive."

"Yes. He is in good health."

I still couldn't shake that unsettled feeling I had.

"I saw you in the meeting...with the other board members and world leaders."

"I do what I have to, hermanita. I love the children just as much as you do."

Locking eyes with her, I said, "Did anyone force you to say all that?"

"No, hermanita. This is a good place. No es mentira. I am not lying."

Some of my teammates appeared to think otherwise.

Sharad pushed Nathan behind her, guarding her from the girl.

Ever since Kamara had made an appearance there, the Ss'sik'chtokiwij had taken defensive stances.

Caitlyn clutched my hand tightly and wouldn't let go. Mark kept growling.

"You're a persistent little brat," Moe said to the girl. "Just can't take no for an answer, can you?"

 _"I value my position in the organization."_

Josh still wasn't talking to me, or even looking at me. He let Kamara take charge of that task.

"I don't understand any of this," Lammy said. "Forgiving your enemies is so challenging."

Rosa stared at Pillow as she scooped Quana out of Guessica's arms. "Is that a baby?"

The Abreya nodded. "She's mine."

Rosa smiled. "She's adorable. Can I hold her?"

"Sure," Pillow said with a reluctant sigh. "Come over here."

Upon seeing the Ss'sik'chtokiwij on the floor around her, she balked.

"It's okay. They won't bite. Much."

Rosa cringed. _"Thank you. I will pass."_

Camille offered Haman to her. "Perhaps you'd like to hold _him_ , then."

This made my Latin friend shudder. "Thanks. I'm good."

"So, Ellie," Kamara said. "You have your evidence. The kids are doing great, everything's ready for you to move in and start taking command."

I swallowed. The place didn't seem all that bad. It was, by far, the most tolerable and democratic place I'd seen on the island.

"Hypothetically, if I were to stay here, what would I be required to do?"

"Oh, just some administrative duties...you'd assist the police in maintaining order, monitor the channels to make sure they comply with the rating system, ensure that the children have the life you believe they deserve, organize events...not exactly torture..."

"And all my alien friends will be safe?"

"Naturally. We wouldn't want you to leave!"

"Ellie," Pillow said. "You made a promise to get me and my husband out of here."

"I know. But...this place...it's different."

"Is it really? Or are we just exchanging one form of control for another?"

"What if this as free was we can get?" I asked. "It's not exactly a _bad place_ , for you or your babies. We can do pretty much what we want, right?"

Kamara nodded.

"I've experienced that kind of freedom before," said Pillow. "It's not true freedom."

"Still, it's not torture," I argued.

"I agree with Pillow," Camille said. "It's nice, but I want to go home."

"You're not safe at home," I said.

"Maybe not, but I want to find out what happened to my husband."

Guessica and Absolute didn't seem too opposed to the idea, though.

"It's nice here," the boy said. "I'd still like to see Shasharmazorb, but this place isn't bad. I could live here."

"Are you crazy!" Fiat cried. "We'll still be prisoners. This is just a gilded cage!"

"Are you saying you don't trust Ellie?" Kamara asked. "Remember, _she'll_ be the one in charge."

Fiat looked at her with mistrust. "I'll never be free until I'm united with Shasharmazorb."

 _"We can bring her to you."_

The boy swallowed. "They always said they would, but it never happened."

"If you contribute, we'll see if we can make it happen."

The boy glanced at me with an uncertain expression.

With my face, I silently communicated that they probably wouldn't do it.

"Julia will show you Shasharmazorb," Guessica told him. "She already showed me. I'm content."

Fiat seemed to accept the answer well enough.

I was close to saying okay to the whole thing, ready to accept whatever terms Kamara suggested.

"You can't seriously be considering staying here," Ippi said. "After all we fought for and sacrificed, you're just going to blow it all and give in?"

"The children have a good life."

"And what about us?"

"It helps the children, and you would be free to...do whatever. I could make a difference."

"Yeah, while the rest of us get tortured and dissected. _She may say_ that we'll be left alone, but I don't believe it for a minute."

She marched to the staircase. "I'm leaving now. Who's coming with me?"

Pillow took her place by the other female's side. Camille, Fiat, Amos and Lammy joined them.

Fiat had already fled down the stairs. When I asked about him, Ippi just shrugged. "We'll have to leave without him. And that crazy woman."

"I'll go find him," Lammy said.

I shook my head. "Don't stray too far. Grab him and bring him back to us."

"What you should be doing is getting him out of the building," Ippi said. "Unless you want to stay in this prison for the rest of your life."

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij growled in confusion. "I will bring him back to _you_ , then, and let you decide what to do with him."

Ippi glanced at Pillow's concerned facial expression and sighed. "Fine, fine. You do that. But don't expect me to wait too long."

Lammy disappeared down the stairs.

The rest of my team stayed put. Even Julia, despite the other Ss'sik'chtokiwij growling at her.

Noting that my defectors had turned to walk away, I called, "Don't go just yet."

"Changed your mind?" Ippi asked.

Instead of saying yea or nay, I just said, "Hold on just another moment."

Looking Kamara in the eyes, I said, "I still don't understand. What do _you_ get out of all this?"

"When the time comes, we're going to need you to fight."

"Fight?" I repeated. "For who or what."

"For _America_ , of course."

"Really," I said. "The real America, or the one that made a deal with terrorists to manipulate an unsuspecting populace?"

She stared at me like I'd had some kind of mental breakdown. "What are you talking about."

"You're going to make me fight in a war between two parties that are both being lied to, kill people that don't need to die. It's all a set-up."

When she opened her mouth to utter a protest, I said, "Don't try to sweep this under the rug. _I was there._ I heard them plotting a terror attack."

"So what if you did?" she said. "This place exists as part of our _agreement_. You hold up your side of the bargain, and we'll make the world a utopia like this one. Break the deal, and we'll be forced to take _drastic measures_."

I sighed. "So that's what this is about."

Kamara didn't disagree.

"That's it," I said. "We're done here."

I walked away from her, calling to my team. "C'mon. Let's go."

Kamara took a phone out of her pocket, activating something that amplified her voice through the whole building. "Emergency meeting. Mandatory attendance. All employees report to the central hallway immediately."

I broke into a sprint, hurrying everyone down the stairs.

When we reached the lower floor hallway, we found ourselves surrounded by staffers. We pushed our way through the crowd, mostly staying together - our team was distinct looking enough, especially with us adults standing above everyone like we were. When a kid from our team got lost, they only needed to gravitate toward the weirdos.

This did not always work in our favor.

In fact, when I reached the middle of the throng, Rosa had caught up with me, grabbing hold of my arm.

"You have to do what they say, amiguita. You're the children's only hope for a better life!"

She was gripping my human arm so tightly that it made me wince.

"Ow! Why are doing that?"

"The children need you, seňorita. Please do not go!"

"Where's Mr. Smithson?" I asked. "He's not... _out traveling_ , is he?"

"Please. Do not ask me about that."

That's when I saw Mazda Miyata's `husband' stepping out of an elevator.

"I thought this was supposed to be a safe place for children!" I cried.

 _"It is,_ amiguita! ¿Por que? Why you ask?"

I pointed a finger at the man. "If this place is so damn safe, then what's that bastard doing here!"

"Oh. _Him._ I keep him under constant watch. He is no threat."

Kamara had moved in on me without me knowing. "She's right, Ellie. He's being monitored by cameras. We have him on a very short leash."

"That's it," I said. "There's no way in _hell_ I'm staying now!"

"Actually, Ellie, you don't have a choice. Your genotype is copyrighted. We own you. And if you don't cooperate, we're going to renege on our part of the agreement."

"How is that any different than before?" I asked. "You brought a bunch of kids out of imprisonment and just dropped them down here to die or kill each other. How can that possibly be considered `upholding your part of the bargain'?"

"They were never abused in the traditional sense. It was all for the purpose of civil and military defense programs."

"Bullshit!" I shouted. "You're killing kids for no good reason!"

That's when I started noticing blue puffy marks on the workers around me. "Wait. Are those bruises?"

"What are you talking about?" Kamara asked.

I pointed to a child worker's neck. "Who's been beating these kids!"

"I did what I had to, seňorita," Rosa said. _"Those men..."_

Before she could finish the thought, Kamara took out a cel phone, pushed a button, and foaming blue liquid splurted out the woman's mouth and nostrils.

She fell to the floor and didn't move again.

They had given her a brain plug.

"Rosa!" I cried, rushing to where she lay.

I saw no sign of life.

I glared at the girl with the phone. "You're no better than those men on the boat."

"You weren't supposed to see those things," Kamara said. "Regardless, your cooperation is required."

"No," I said. "I don't negotiate with terrorists."

She smirked, her facial expression seeming to say, "That's cute."

"This isn't your show, Ellie," she said.

"I thought it was," I argued. "You said I could be anything I wanted, do anything I want."

"Not anymore. We gave you a chance to do something great, create a society that you'd actually want to live in. Sure, it wasn't perfect (no society is), but you turned your nose up at it, so it seems _we have to lay down some ground rules._ "

She pushed a button and five staff kids died right in front of me.

The surviving child workers backed away in horror, staring at us.

Kamara's finger hovered over the button once more.

"No!" I yelled. "Stop! What's the matter with you?"

" _You're_ the matter with me, Ellie," Kamara said. " _You think I like doing this?"_

She waved at the dead bodies. "I did this to illustrate a point, here. There's more at stake here than your petty sense of self righteousness. This isn't a game. You cooperate with us, or more children die. I don't want to do it, but I will. If you continue to resist."

"Go to hell," I said. "I'm not fighting in your unjust war."

Julia growled, preparing to attack.

Eight more young staffers collapsed dead on the floor with blue foam pouring out their mouths and nostrils.

The other children tried to run away, but the doors automatically locked themselves, including pairs of immense double `fire doors' around the apartments, the main entrance, and a back hallway. The workers tried to open them, but couldn't.

In fact, the moment Moe aimed his gun at the windows that lay between us and the outside, a set of metal shutters slammed closed over them, preventing even that.

The children cried and cowered along the walls. Some even appeared to be praying.

Mark scurried up my back, gripping me fearfully. "Is she going to kill me next, mommy? Is she?"

"I don't think so," I said. "You're not as disposable as a human being."

This statement confused him. "Human beings are garbage?"

"To _them_ they are."

Kamara didn't disagree. "It's very easy, Ellie. No more children have to die. All you have to do is say yes."

I clenched my fists, mentally debating how I could play this.

I wasn't King Herod. My word was not my eternal bond. What if I...

It seemed I hadn't responded quickly enough. Five more children died.

The kids that weren't cowering were yelling at me, telling me to do what Kamara said.

It got so noisy that Kamara ended up screaming, "Silence! I have all of your numbers! The next one of you staffers to speak will die!"

The crowd fell silent, more than a hundred eyes fixing me with pleading looks.

Behind a glass window, I could see Lovelace seated behind one of the desks, typing something on a computer. When our eyes met, she just sipped from a coffee mug and typed some more.

"Time's wasting, Ellie," said Kamara. "I need you to commit. Now."

Sharad held on to her brother, staying close to Pillow's side.

"Do it," Pillow whimpered over her crying baby. "Give in. I can't bear to see any more of this."

"My God, she's right!" Camille urged as Haman cried and shifted restlessly around in her arms. "Do what she tells you! Please. I don't want to see any more of these children die!"

"I wouldn't trust her," said Ippi. "She'll probably keep killing them, even if you do what she says."

Kamara glared at her. _"Do you know me so well?"_

 _"I know your kind._ You'll put these kids under ground the moment it suits you."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Can't you just _lie_?" Absolute hissed to me.

Kamara replied, "I wouldn't recommend it. Besides, you haven't removed Ellie's monitoring equipment. We can tell when she's lying."

She used the phone to project a graph of my heart monitor onto a big screen on the wall.

Kamara killed another five.

Black kids, white kids, it didn't matter. Dead.

Pillow uttered prayers, but they didn't seem to help.

Nathan got scared at started crying. Sharad held him tightly, pressing him to her chest.

Quana, in her mother's arms, appeared to be just as upset. Even Haman appeared to be anxious, teething on Camille's shoulder.

"If you can't lie," Absolute hissed. "Then shoot the phone out of her hand!"

"She's not that good of a shot. And even if she were, I can use voice commands."

"We could always shoot you in the throat," Moe suggested.

Kamara rolled her eyes. " _Please._ "

"Don't you have that blaster thing?" Caitlyn asked. "The gun that can blow things up?"

"Yeah?" I said.

"Why not blow up those metal walls?"

I reached for the weapon.

"Do that," Kamara said. "And I kill them all at once. No one escapes. I'll have your total and complete cooperation."

"Let us go," I said. "I don't want to hurt you."

She laughed. " _Is that a threat?_ "

She killed another kid, as if punishing me for the remark. A freckled redhead that could have been a stunt double for Rupert Grint.

"Mommy!" Caitlyn hissed. "Why are you talking to her? Just melt through a door and run away!"

"Honey, look around you. That's not exactly easy. And she'll still probably kill people."

Another kid dropped dead on the floor. A tall black boy.

Kamara toyed with the victims, knocking them down like dominoes.

I clenched my teeth, helplessly watching them die, one by one.

Where was Big Bird? When I glanced at the screens, I saw only my heart monitor.

It seemed I was on my own.

"You're a monster!" I yelled. "These are _human beings!_ My God, you're not even a child, you're an adult serial killer in a child's body!"

 _"And what are you?_ " she challenged, finger hovering over the button. "Say yes. Now."

"Were you _cloned_ to be this way?" I asked. "Or did your parents _brainwash_ you into being this heartless government assassin?"

"Kill the little bitch!" Ippi yelled. "She's clearly gone off the deep end!"

In response, Kamara murdered two more children.

A pixie-like Mexican girl.

A fat kid that could have played young Sam Gamgee in a Young Hobbit movie.

"Keep talking, Ippi. I'll kill more."

I expected Ippi to say something about how she didn't care about humans, but she only clenched her fists and snapped her tail.

 _"Ellie..."_ Kamara said. _"I'm waiting..._ "

"Yes," I said, but not very loudly.

Kamara killed some more kids.

A wispy thin Japanese girl.

A chunky German looking kid with buckteeth.

"Yes!" I said in a louder tone. "You can stop killing them!"

She responded by killing more. She didn't even wait until I finished talking. " _That wasn't very convincing. Your heart graph..._ "

"Okay!" I yelled. "Yes!"

More children died.

"Yes what?"

"I'll do anything you say! Just stop killing them!"

I thought I'd done a rather convincing job fooling the lie detector. For a moment, I even made myself believe that I would surrender, fooling myself like a actors on TV make themselves believe they're talking to computer generated aliens or Santa Claus.

The girl paused, fingers hovering over the phone.

"No. I still don't buy it. Your pulse is too irregular. Try again."

Five children died.

"Should we attack her?" Amos asked in Ss'sik'chtokiwij.

I shook my head no.

"Why not?" Guessica said in English. "If you don't kill her, she's going to kill everyone in the building!"

"She wouldn't kill a childhood friend," said Kamara. "A good Christian is supposed to _love their enemy_ , especially when she knows that her old boyfriend would never forgive her if she did. Isn't that right, Ellie?"

I didn't answer.

Josh gave me a nervous glance.

At long last, he actually met my gaze and opened his mouth. "You already took my mother away. Are you going to take away everyone else that I care about too?"

I swallowed hard.

"On the Ariel, we both had guns pointed at our heads," Kamara said. "You evidently must have cared about us then, or you would have just let us die."

My lip trembled as my emotions warred against each other.

"Where's Big Bird?" Caitlyn called. "Why isn't she helping us?"

Kamara laughed. " _Your little video game character knows it's not safe when MM7 is around._ "

She pointed at a wall monitor, where the polygonal face from some old arcade game leered at me.

The face morphed into the three eyed DAMBALLAH logo and back to the face.

"It only looked like your friend beat him. MM7 is still very much alive, and as powerful as ever."

One child died, then another, then another.

Kamara's facial expression said, "You don't have the guts to kill me."

The look in her eyes dared me to do it.

She killed them as we spoke.

She killed them when I answered.

With every push of the button, my anger toward my once friend grew and boiled, tearing away at the foundations of our relationship, every passing second pushing me toward something terrible I resisted to the very core of my being.

She was goading me. She kept giving me this overconfident look that said, "We both know you can't do anything. I dare you to try."

"I see this isn't working," Kamara said. "I thought maybe seeing some kids you recognized would make you more _sympathetic_ , but maybe _it's just you and the team_. Maybe I have to hit you where it hurts to really convince you."

She pushed the button and Guessica, Absolute and Bo Peep fell to the floor.

I thought seeing all those kids dying was unbearable enough, but this was the last straw.

I trembled violently, unable to control my rage.

I had run out of options. I could only see one way out of this.

I couldn't let her do this to anyone else.

I snapped.

Without thinking, I let out a scream and whipped out the blaster, shooting her point blank.

Kamara's body exploded in a spray of blood, bone, brains and meat.

Children screamed as the gore splattered their hair and faces.

"No!" Josh yelled.

I was crying so hard that I couldn't see straight.

I didn't even know that kids were dropping all around me until I'd wiped my eyes a few times and allowed my vision to focus. It was just a mass of dark blurry shapes falling like curtain weights at the opening of a play.

And then I saw them, close to two hundred children, sprawling on the floor in their last throes of death, foaming out the mouth and nostrils. It looked like Jonestown at a grade school.

"I should have known she had a contingency plan."

Kamara must have seen this coming, for a moment after I killed her, every single child worker in the entire building had dropped dead.

I wept.

Mark and Caitlyn huddled close to me, staring at the bodies, Caitlyn with horror, Mark with puzzlement, possibly fascination.

Crying, I knelt beside Absolute, wiping the blue junk from his nostrils.

He scrunched up his face, brushing my hand away.

"Hey," he groaned. "What are you doing?"

"You're alive!" I shouted.

Absolute's eyes widened. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He sat up, wiping his nose and mouth vigorously.

"How is this possible?" I said. "They put a thing in your brain!"

Absolute shrugged. "Maybe Julia melted something? She _said_ there was something funny stuck to my brain...I thought I told her to leave it alone."

"I'm glad she didn't," I said, hugging him.

Guessica and Bo Peep sat up, rubbing their irritated noses, wiping their mouths on their sleeves.

"That shit tastes like battery acid," Guessica muttered.

I hugged each of them.

The other children, sadly, had not been so lucky. They remained motionless on the floor, none of them breathing.

Julia and Amos scampered from body to body, sniffing them.

"We did not kill them," Amos said. "Yet they are not alive. Would we be permitted to consume them?"

Julia responded with a negating grunt. "There is a period of mourning. The body exteriors must remain complete and well preserved. Mother suggested opening the stomach, devouring the internal organs, and sewing the body back up. The stomach, of course, would be covered by fabric, so that would be the best entry point.

"Of course, the human organization named `Ceaseye Loss Angles' add an additional requirement: A human dying in a suspicious way must remain untouched for an auto topsy, a ritual in which humans discover causes of death, and how much money an internal organ is worth based on weight."

"That sounds very strange," said Amos. "Surely they would only need one auto topsy to understand what happened here, would they not?"

Julia grunted again. "Sometimes a human will kill another, then arrange objects to make it look like the cause of death is something other than what it truly is. What if one of those children were strangled before the foaming blue stuff came out?"

"I wish humans would just eat their victims. It would be much simpler."

"Regardless, I am not certain they are safe for consumption. The blue foam appears to have been poisonous."

Amos sighed. "It would not help to eat away from the head?"

"I am not sure."

Josh had been weeping over Kamara for some time now, but now he was screaming. I didn't know he held a gun until I heard the hammer click back.

Without a word, Simon stepped in front of me, flashing a bullfighter's cape he had somehow kept inside his outfit until that moment.

The second the hammer snapped down on the pistol, Simon twirled this cape, and flames erupted from the cloth.

He held the fire to his face, breathed out a fireball, and Josh fell backwards over one of the bodies, enshrouded in purple smoke.

It seemed my little ex boyfriend had anticipated this, for the gun barked again, and Simon staggered away clutching a bleeding chest wound.

"Simon!" Zack cried, running to help his injured stage partner.

"What about Josh?" I asked.

Ippi said, "What about him!"

But Zack answered, "He'll be fine. It's a trick with a knockout dart."

He frowned when he saw his friend's bullet wound. "Unfortunately, this one is not."

"Go," Simon gasped. "It's too late for me."

Zack glared at his nephew, currently sprawled over a dead pigtailed blonde girl.

He returned his attention to Simon. "You sure?"

Simon coughed up blood. "What do I look like? A bloomin' doctor?"

He coughed again. It almost sounded like laughter.

Pillow knelt next to the victim, examining the wound.

"You know what they say about the little boy who cried wolf..."

She pulled blood packs out of the man's jacket. "Is that _Kevlar_ under there?"

"Damn!" Simon groaned, removing a fake blood capsule from behind his teeth.

Zack chuckled and shook his head. "That's what we get for having a doctor on our team!"

"I don't get it," I said. "Why would you want to be left behind?"

 _"Reconnaissance_ ," said Simon. "Why else?"

"Better luck next time," Zack muttered, lifting the man to a standing position.

Simon handed me the slug from Josh's bullet. " _For you, my dear._ "

 _"Thank you,"_ I said sarcastically. " _You're sweet._ "

I glanced at the metal doors. "We need to find Fiat."

"Nice thought," said Moe. "But we're kind of stuck here."

To demonstrate, he pushed on a fire door. It didn't budge.

"Let me do it," Ippi said, tugging on the handle.

"Don't you think I already tried that?"

She sighed when it didn't work.

The absence of Lammy, Hosea and Fiat troubled me, but there wasn't anything I could do about it at the moment. I could only hope they were alive and intact.

When I looked in Lovelace's office, I discovered the woman had disappeared.

Although glad to see her not adding any additional problems to our situation, I couldn't help but wonder if she were busily preparing something even worse for us elsewhere in the building.

I glanced at Simon. "Any tricks up your sleeve?"

He shook his head. "None."

I shot Zack a hopeful glance.

"I'm sorry. Not at the moment."

"Do you know where Lammy is?" I asked Julia.

She nodded. "I think I caught her scent. However, this prison presents a difficulty."

"I know," I groaned.

"You have a blaster," Ippi said to me. "Why don't you use it?"

"Oh. Right. I guess they've already done their worst."

I shot the fire doors, and they flew off their hinges, hitting the floor with a deafening bang.

Beyond was the hallway leading to the front entrance.

"Fiat" I called.

"He's dead."

Looking down, I saw Lammy scampering my way. "His device exploded while our minds were joined. His consciousness departed from me during contact."

"You did not destroy the device?" Julia asked.

Lammy shook her head. "I thought it would harm him."

She sighed.

"Where is he?" I asked.

"He is in the apartments."

"Leave him," said Ippi. "We bury the dead and we'll be dead ourselves."

"Is your mind part human now?" Absolute asked the Ss'sik'chtokiwij. "Like when Jen-Jen died?"

Lammy shook her head. "Fiat is not part of me. He is gone."

"See?" Pillow said to Sharad. "This is why I didn't want you joining minds with those creatures! It's dangerous!"

 _"Reem!"_ Sharad protested.

The two argued, rapid fire, in Wava. I was glad I couldn't understand half of it.

"Where's Hosea?" I asked.

Lammy pointed a claw at a futon, where the woman lay on her back, puffing on a reefer.

As I came closer, I heard her singing a very strange song. "Colt 45 and two Zig-Zags, baby that's all we need...we go to the park, after dark, and smoke that tumbleweed..."

I cleared my throat. "Hosea! It's time to go."

She sat up, giggling at some joke nobody else was privy to. "I want a human ear, and a cookie coated with mayonnaise."

"Sorry, fresh out," Moe quipped.

"How about a bag of nachos?" the woman asked.

Moe pointed to the Starbucks. "Grab something in there, and hurry."

Since none of us had eaten since breakfast, we all decided to raid the place for food.

Being the type of establishment that it was, none of us exactly left the place feeling full, but at least we had _something_ in our stomachs for the next part of our journey.

A bizarre sight greeted us at the main entrance.

A small table, complete with patio umbrella had been placed in front of the doors, surrounded by wrought iron cafe chairs, its glass tabletop bearing glasses, a crystal bottle of burgundy, and a large bowl of fruit.

Miyata's `husband', clad in his red jumpsuit, slouched behind this classy display.

For some reason the man didn't seem surprised to see me or my alien companions.

The man gestured to an empty seat. "Please. Sit down."

I approached the table, but remained standing.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

With a wry smile, the man answered, "Having a drink. Care to join me?"

I shook my head. "I meant, what are you doing in this place? With all these kids?"

"I've had a change of heart," he said, pouring me a drink. "Why do you resist the board so much? You're a natural soldier. You had _me_ convinced, _a man you stabbed in the throat!_ "

He pushed the glass over to me, but I refused to touch it.

"I can kill him if you wish," Lammy said.

"Do not be so eager to kill!" Julia scolded. "It's rude!"

Looking embarrassed, Lammy turned to me and said, " _Excuse me,_ " like she had merely belched.

Absolute grabbed for the fruit, but I said, "Don't."

He frowned. "You think it's drugged?"

"It was set out specifically for us, so probably."

He left it alone.

"Who is that man, mommy?" Caitlyn asked.

I just shook my head.

"That's the guy from Technical Ecstasy," said Absolute.

More raised an eyebrow. _"He was with Black Sabbath?_ "

Absolute laughed. "Seriously? Don't you guys watch any video?"

"Black Sabbath videos?"

"Technical Ecstasy is a program about technology," Mr. Sloan said. "They did a segment about my copyright work in electronic consciousness."

Absolute nodded. "If you have a memory about your first kiss and the Beatles are playing int he background, you can't share the memory electronically until royalties are paid."

"I'm sitting on enough X-Mases and first kisses to keep me set for the rest of my life," the man said.

Moe had his rifle ready, silently waiting for the go-ahead.

I didn't give one.

"Technical is boring," Guessica said. "I don't see how anyone would want to watch it."

"You children need attention spans," said Mr. Sloan.

Hosea stuck her hand into the bowl of fruit, gobbling up a pineapple slice.

"Wait. Don't-"

But she was already eating a handful of blueberries.

I rolled my eyes, hoping she wouldn't need rescuing from this creep.

Pillow walked past the table, frowning when she discovered the front doors didn't open.

"I have the keys to that," the man said. "Please. Stay and have a drink."

"No thanks," I said.

"Suit yourself." Mr. Sloan took a swig of his glass.

Unlike the windows at the opposite end, the ones I saw in that particular hallway did not have a metal barrier behind the glass to keep us in. Sharad took advantage of this by smashing a pane with a chair and using the same chair as a bridge to protect her brother's feet from the jagged pieces as she helped him outside. Camille and Pillow followed her out, but then stood in the opening, watching what we were doing.

"You deserve to have your electronic consciousness dropped into the deepest pits of a digital hell," Zack said.

"I can think of several websites that match that description," Simon joked. "Perhaps one of those which trap your device on a specific page to bolster its ratings while it installs malware disguised as antivirus software."

"Eternal life has a price," said Mr. Sloan.

"I'd hardly call a bunch of files that can corrupt or get erased `eternal.'"

"Maybe, but it's all we have."

"I disagree," I said.

"Theology is nice, but it's a lot harder to collect royalties upon."

"They didn't let me see daddy's memories," Caitlyn said. "They told me I had to save up to get the premium package."

Mr. Sloan wasn't moved at all. "For the information the package presents, it's worth every cent."

"You're robbing people of their lives," I said. "Doesn't that bother you, even a little bit?"

I paused. "Never mind. You're a pedophile. Why should I expect a conscience?"

"So we emulate a few neuron patterns to make it seem like it's someone's dead friend or family member," said Mr. Sloan. "It's just a fancy video game."

Zack leaned over the table, glowering at him. "A video game that thousands of people believe in."

"Including you?"

The magician shook his head. "I know a con when I see one."

"We are not so different. You gentlemen have made a career out of illusion, and so have I."

"I see you've been checking up on us."

Mr. Sloan shrugged. "It's part of the job."

He turned to look at me with a smile. "Ellen Siebers...It is _so good_ to see you! You might say that _I knew you when you were this small!"_ He held a hand at crotch level to illustrate. " _Did you know that I am on your Afexun friends list?_ "

I just stared at him.

And then he dug a plague doctor mask out of a bag next to him, pulling it over his head. _"I'm a big fan of your work!"_

I stared at the man in disgust.

"By the way...What did you do with Mazda?"

"I took him someplace where you can't touch him. That's what!"

"No matter," he laughed through the mask. _"I'll find him eventually._ MM7 will bring him back to me soon enough!"

I grabbed his bottle of brandy, smashing him over the head with it.

I must have hit him pretty hard, to knock him unconscious through a mask like that, but I did it somehow.

"He's a no good pedophile," Ippi said. "Kill him."

"No," I said. "I'm not playing their game."

Ippi yanked the mask off the man, pressing her gun to his temple. "You're saying that from the chess board, Ellie."

"Leave him!" I shouted.

"I saw him locking the building!" Ippi yelled. "This son of a bitch deserves to die!"

I pushed the gun away. "He's a pawn. The children are dead now. There's no one he can hurt anymore."

With a frustrated sigh and a snap of her tail, Ippi put the gun away.

Before I left the building, I took my knife and slashed his mask open.


	59. Chapter 59: Hadley's Hope

As Mr. Sloan lay on the floor, Moe picked up the ragged label still attached to the broken shards. "Damn. That was the good stuff!"

Bo Peep dawdled behind the rest of the group. I had to drag her through the window hole.

As I was doing this, I suddenly noticed a rushing, hissing sound.

I looked back and saw steaming black fluid pouring out of little circular holes in the walls.

The fluid was extremely caustic, burning through everything it touched like molten lava. Plasma TV's became... _plasma_. The legs of futons disappeared as it made contact.

"Oh no!" I cried. "Josh!"

Zack, who had stepped back in to observe the phenomenon, said, "I wouldn't worry about him. I saw the boy sneaking out while we were talking to _that guy._ "

I stared at him for a moment, wondering if he told the truth. I then decided he wouldn't want his own nephew reduced to slag.

"Speaking of which," I muttered, slinging the unconscious man over my shoulder.

I unceremoniously dumped Mr. Sloan next to the gun statue, along with his mangled mask.

Despite the jarring motions, he did not wake, but I could still see his chest rising up and down.

He wasn't inside, or very close to the stuff.

If he woke up in time to flee from it, more power to him.

If he didn't, oh well. His fate would be in God's hands.

The steaming ooze continued to eat its way through the building, destroying everything it touched. It reminded me of a scene from the classic black and white version of _The Blob_.

When my companions saw what was happening, they made a hasty retreat. We hurried away from there, hoping the stuff wouldn't flood into the outer countryside.

Simon tossed me a compass. "I found this in the man's pockets. Perhaps it can be of some use."

Following the needle in a northerly direction, we crossed through a field of dandelions and weeds, then a flat dry rocky place that resembled the picked remains of a quarry.

This lifeless expanse extended as far as the eye could see. We were in for a walk.

Nobody spoke for awhile. We just walked in glum silence, depressed by all the deaths.

I myself felt little motivated to talk to anyone, due to the incident with Kamara. I had lost one of my best friends. It wasn't something I could easily get over.

Ippi broke the silence. "If they were adults, I wouldn't care. They'd at least have had a chance to _live_! But those were _children!_ I can't believe you'd do this kind of cruelty to your own kind! My God! And it was a _child_ doing this! Humans _deserve_ to have alien hybrids slaughtering them wholesale!"

"Let he who is without sin cast the first stone," Pillow said.

Ippi sighed. "So I admit our race isn't without its cruelty. But this... _this!_ "

"Hey," Zack said. _"We're not all bad._ "

"Okay," she said. "So maybe I don't want to kill _all_ humans... _that's not to say I wouldn't like to castrate at least one of them._ "

"Yikes!"

Hosea did an impression of an airplane as she walked, or rather _wobbled_ under the influence of cannabis.

"Kamara called you Gold Dog," I said to Ippi. "Mind telling me why?"

"You already knew I was working for them," the Abreya said. " _Was_ being the operative word."

Since Hosea had yet to pass out, I assigned Absolute the task of carrying the fruit for later consumption.

"Don't eat it just yet. We'll watch Hosea for a few more minutes to see if it's drugged."

"You're torturing me," Absolute complained, but he did what he was told and didn't touch it.

Ippi marched alongside Nathan, coaching him on how to say things in Wava and English. The boy picked up things so slowly that _I_ found I knew how to say several words before he did.

In the meantime, Haman cried in Camille's arms and wouldn't stop.

"He needs changing, doesn't he?" the woman asked.

Pillow gave her a look that said, "What can we do?"

The Abreya smiled at my daughter. "What's your name mean, Caitlyn?"

The girl shrugged. "Dunno. My mommies named me after that guy that had the sex change. They said he, I mean she, was an example of how a person could be anything they wanted to be, if they wanted it badly enough."

"Yeah," Moe laughed. "If you're a man who can turn all the ladies' heads, you can always achieve your dream of becoming a hideous looking woman." He patted the girl's head. "My condolences."

 _"He isn't the only person with that name,"_ I said in the way of an apology.

Caitlyn looked Pillow in the eyes. "Will we be going to your planet when we leave here?"

She looked uncomfortable. "You...don't have a home of your own?"

Caitlyn shook her head.

Pillow glanced at Camille.

"I don't know if she'd be safe with me either," the woman said. "Look what happened to _me!_ "

Pillow nodded. "You and Camille can stay with me until we figure out something." She glanced nervously at the Ss'sik'chtokiwij. "As for your friends, perhaps in a safe jungle habitat around Hebufaso."

Hearing a wail behind me, I turned around and saw Mark lying on the ground, crying as Lammy and Amos stared at him.

Apparently he had gotten injured during play. His arm was bleeding and he kept trying to rub dirt out of his eyes.

I stopped, tore strips off my clothes to make bandages, then pulled his eyelids together until the obstruction had been removed.

"Next time be more careful," I scolded the larvae.

Julia said that Mark was doing his share with his spikes and wrist spears, but I still urged them to cut out all the roughhousing.

Our progress across that gray lifeless terrain was slow and largely uneventful. Camille and the children, being frail human beings with little or no prior military experience, required frequent breaks. We kept on having to stop so they could rest, and time was our enemy. Already then sun was sinking.

Twice on these breaks a flying camera drone would pass overhead, to observe our progress.

By the third one, Moe got fed up and started using them for target practice. They mostly left us alone after that, keeping their distance.

"Can we eat this fruit now?" Absolute whined. "It's going to spoil."

I looked at Hosea, noted that she seemed okay, just recovering from the effects of pot. I gave him a nod, and the fruit was distributed.

Pillow waddled after my big friend. " _Moe_...is it okay for me to call you that?"

He nodded. "It's better than a number."

Pillow sighed. "I'm sorry. I...I've been unforgiving in my heart. I'm sorry if I acted rude. You're actually okay for a human."

"And you're okay for an... _Aberryann._ "

"Hey," Moe said to Sharad. "Uh... _Dusaq._ " Apparently he'd also been listening to the language lesson too. "So...what's it like on your planet?"

The young female's eyes were rolling on their stalks. "It's nice. We have purple oceans, and large buildings in trees."

"So it's like a big jungle."

"Not...exactly. We have companies and factories, but they exist without destroying nature. Our spaceship factories, for example, are built into huge genetically enhanced _muprisns_."

"What happens if a branch breaks?"

"The same thing that happens when a soccer stadium collapses on your planet. It happens, but we have safety precautions against it."

Mark climbed up on his back.

"Hey, watch it, _Prickles,"_ the man said with a chuckle.

He let Mark hang there as he walked, occasionally stroking the boy's spines (`along the grain' of course - he didn't want a hand full of quills).

"Why do you worship a Ss'sik'chtokiwij?" Mark asked Guessica.

"I don't anymore," the girl said.

"But why did you?"

"I..." she sniffed, appearing to be on the verge of tears. "I...thought I could start my life over somehow."

"We still have a chance," I said. "If we get off this planet."

"I'm staying on terra firma, thank you very much!" Simon said. "If you'd be so kind as to escort me off this proverbial Alcatraz, i should be very much in your debt!"

I nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

"Have you ever been in the Night Forest?" I heard Caitlyn asking Absolute.

The boy shook his head. "I was raised Buddhist, but that didn't make sense to me either. If you lived more than once, you shouldn't have to reinvent the wheel and re-learn everything every single time you came back. I'm not saying Shasharmazorb makes sense, but at no time did they say you'd ever come back as a human."

"Pillow told Shasharmazorb about Jesus. I don't think even _Shasharmazorb_

believes in the stuff your people are saying about her."

"Did you have a mom and dad, or two mommies?" Caitlyn asked him.

"A mom and dad. Well, technically two dads because the first one left when I was little. But mom has always been heterosexual. My dad sells premium transit packages for the self driving system."

"Wait," I said. "What?"

"Priority drivers get better slots for peak traffic times. It's complicated."

Caitlyn said, "My mommies wanted to save money, so they didn't get those too often."

She told him about her parents' jobs, a chaotic career of `freelance modeling and advertisements', to put the terms loosely.

Absolute, in turn, told her about his mother's job as an `outsourced' Amazon call agent, a stressful job that required employees to be always cheerful, sexy and otherwise high scoring in all key areas of the customer service scorecard or get fired.

"I'm glad I turned my parents in," Guessica said.

She left it at that.

Automatically assuming the worst, we didn't press the subject.

Bo Peep only listened silently, not contributing anything. She continued to be a vegetative personality.

We had gotten up early to sneak out of Pillow's dollhouse, spent the morning in the Tower of Death, lunchtime in the Unified Government building. We were all tired, sore, and wanting more to eat, and water, but we had nothing. I could only hope that further movement north would eventually land us supplies and a place we could rest in secret.

As the sun slowly concluded its descent, turning the sky red and purple, we sat on the ground, trying to recover enough strength for another mile's march.

I spread the map out on the ground, explaining what I knew about our destination to the team.

Once all the relevant points had been established, and our conversation about the subject had concluded, I stared at the dirt, thinking of Kamara.

If there had only been some better way...

"I still don't understand why Big Bird couldn't help us back there," Caitlyn said.

I sighed. "It was MM7. Apparently he's too strong for her."

"MM7 disabled a large part of the American governmental internet systems with ransomware," Simon said. "It stole countless classified documents and helped take down the east coast for the Islamics. It's truly a formidable entity."

Zack watched Pillow rocking Quana to sleep. I think it inspired him to overcome his castration fears, for he started speaking to Ippi again. "When we get out of this, I'm guessing we won't have any _stage help for our magic acts..._ "

"Oh no," Ippi said. "I'm not staying any longer on your stinking planet than I have to."

"Oh well," Simon said. "Such is life, eh Zack?"

But Zack answered, " _I didn't exactly mean earth, Ippi._ " He swallowed. "I mean, _as long as you don't castrate me or anything.._."

Ippi laughed. "You have _no idea_ what you're asking for."

Zack spread his arms. "Hey, it can't be much worse than this, can it?"

"And what would _I_ be doing, Mr. Hattam?" Simon grumped.

"You're welcome to come with, of course."

"I'd prefer not to." Simon sighed. "Once we find our way off this island, and if you continue to persist in this foolish notion, I shall be forced to dissolve our partnership!"

Zack glanced from Ippi to Simon and back again.

After a long pause, Zack extended his hand to his friend and business partner. "We made a great team, you and I. I'll be sorry to see you leave, but I understand. I wish you the best of luck."

"And I you."

"You'd have to up your magic game a little. Abreyas are not so easily impressed."

"I love a good challenge! Do they have magic shops on your planet?"

She frowned as she thought about it.

"Do they have... _the equivalent of the Orient? A place filled with mystery and magic._ "

 _"We have a few places.."_

He rubbed his hands together. "I can't wait to see them!"

"Zack," Ippi said. "There is a term for your condition. We on Pathilon call it _wumvupa_ , when a young animal, experiencing the height of sexual lust, goes around attempting to screw everything it sees, whether it be a rock, a tree, or the wrong species of animal."

Zack grinned. "Gee, I've had that condition my whole life and I never knew what it was called!"

Ippi groaned in disgust.

 _"Snarfico viravo guv jougteb_ ," Pillow muttered to her.

Ippi glared at her. "You stay out of this."

Seeing Mark preparing to join minds with Lammy, the Ss'sik'chtokiwij's worms already extending toward his nostrils, I said, " _Don't_. We need to be able to move after everyone has rested."

"She says it won't take long," Mark blurted in protest.

"I think it may take longer than you think. C'mon. You can do that later."

Mark sighed and nodded. "Mommy, did you know that I can change shape?"

"There's a lot of stuff I don't know about you," I said. "Those things in your arms, for example."

The boy smiled, clenched his fists, and suddenly he looked like a regular human kid. With no hair.

He couldn't sustain it for long, though. He soon returned to his spiny alien form.

"I'm still working on it," he said. "It's...difficult."

"That's okay. You need clothing anyway."

Mark sighed and scampered over to Camille, who still cradled Haman in her arms.

"He's cute in a strange sort of way," the woman said as she stroked the baby's pelt. "Wish we could change him, though. _The odor..._ "

Julia attempted to climb up in Ippi's lap, as a way of being friendly, but the Abreya shoved her off. "Don't touch me! I heard about what you things did on Wuxrunus!"

"I have traveled with you some time, and have never made a move to injure you."

 _"I know,"_ she sighed. That doesn't mean you can sit in my lap and nibble on my face."

Julia growled indignantly, visiting Pillow instead.

Mrs. Barnes stroked her shell. "I helped birth this one. It was a little complicated, but we managed to do it without injuring the host mother. Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik's children are... _different."_

"Don't get me wrong," Ippi said. "I'm not afraid of them. I just don't want to get all snuggly with them."

"My mom gets _really snuggly_ with them," Caitlyn said matter-of-factly. "But that's okay, because sex is a beautiful thing."

I turned a bright red in embarrassment. "Caitlyn!"

"She did _what?_ " Moe cried.

"I didn't _do_ anything," I said, feeling heat rising in my cheeks. "It wasn't like that."

"I agree," Julia said. "Our reproductive systems to not appear to be compatible."

"Wonderful!" Ippi complained. "I'm surrounded by _briwumvupo_!"

"What's Wuxrinus?" Absolute asked.

"It's an ill fated mining company."

"My father lived there," Pillow added. "A horde of Ss'sik'chtokiwij came in and killed everyone else on the planet."

"Not all Ss'sik'chtokiwij are kind to other species. It is unfortunate."

 _"That's one way of putting it!"_

"I hope I am not related to them."

"Some of them tried to possess us and make us join their group mind."

Julia said, "I...seem to remember you telling me this before, in days previous, during your visits to my prison cell."

"Yes, well, my phobia about Ss'sik'chtokiwij mind invasion has not gone away."

"You have expressed such a fear to me multiple times," Lammy said.

"Fear is not a thing so easily overcome."

"I still find the whole story a little hard to accept," Camille said. "Matt told me how the space station blew up with my daughter-in-law inside it. It sounded like the ending of Star Wars."

She glanced at Pillow, Sharad and the Ss'sik'chtokiwij. "Of course, I suppose _stranger things have happened._ "

During the course of these conversations, the children had been listening, but a little distractedly due to Sharad poking them with her tail and acting like she hadn't done anything.

To my surprise, it was Bo Peep that caught her.

With an uncharacteristic bit of mirth, the human grabbed Sharad's tail, wrapped it around her fist and pulled the alien close, tickling her all over, Sharad laughing and tickling back. I grinned as I watched. It was nice to see them being normal kids for once.

In the same category, I noticed Guessica somehow had a comb in her possession. I saw her smoothing out Nathan's fur with it, talking about how pretty his coat was, and how she wanted to tie ribbons into it. The young male said he didn't like ribbons, and something else in Wava, which surprised me because he didn't talk that much.

Lammy waddled up to Simon. "What is magic?"

"You have no eyes," the man said. "No bloody point explaining it to you!"

But Zack, appearing to be in a better mood, said, "You have a quarter behind your... _thing._ "

Lammy looked around in puzzlement.

Zack pulled a quarter out from behind her shell, then performed an illusion where he literally `cut' a deck of cards with his hands using, I guess, some pre-sliced playing cards.

Lammy purred in amusement.

"You're trying to impress that bloomin' female yeti, aren't you?"

"Hey!" Ippi cried.

Zack reddened. " _No?_ "

"I resent being compared to Sasquatch," Ippi said. "And no, I'm not impressed."

"Gimme a break," Zack said. "I used all my good gags to escape the guards." Then he paused. "For the record, you're the sexiest Sasquatch I've ever seen."

Ippi blushed green, then slapped him.

Simon got a good laugh out of that!

...But then he got slapped next.

Hosea, still doped up, fell asleep, Amos curling up against her.

Since Moe was busy watching the perimeter, he knew better than to join minds with any Ss'sik'chtokiwij. Instead he asked Julia for a language lesson.

Seeing that it was a useful thing for him to learn, I helped her teach.

It was actually kind of fun, and like any language class, us teachers learned just as much as our student about both languages.

Our little class was interrupted by Haman screaming.

When my back had been turned, Mark accidentally stuck a quill in the baby. It took a great deal of effort to get him calmed down after that, and he cried whenever Mark got near him.

Guessica pointed to a dark gray rectangular object on the horizon. "What's that?"

I stood up, walking toward it to get a better look.

I still couldn't quite tell what it was, but the general shape made me think of a model train set.

"Not sure," I said, checking the compass. "Whatever it is, it's along the way."

Ippi brushed herself off and got to her feet. "All right, everybody. Let's get this show on the road."

We shook Hosea awake, and were back on our way.

Onward we trudged, the flat quarry changing shape and texture, acquiring dirt, boulders and bigger rocks, until it resembled the surface of the moon.

Now closer to the gray `train set', I could see that it actually was a compound of interconnected trailer-like buildings.

I froze in one spot, staring at it in disbelief.

Julia, Hosea, Amos and Lammy also stopped, apparently transfixed by the same thing.

"Oh my God," I cried. "They're crazy!"

Caitlyn shifted her grip on my claw hand. "I don't understand, mommy. Who's crazy?"

I pointed at the buildings. "That's an exact replica of the Hadley's Hope colony!"

"What's Hadley's Hope?"

I frowned. "It was a place on a planet called LV 426. I remember it from what Ernie shared with me."

"She told us about that place," Pillow said. "I never knew what it looked like before now."

Her facial expression darkened. "When we flew over it in our ship, we found an enormous crater with high radiation readings. There were bodies and debris..."

Sharad pointed to a pile of rocks some distance from the site. "Wasn't that where we found Sarah and Big Bird?"

Pillow sighed. "That poor girl...I find it easier to be upset at my husband than I am her."

We descended a rocky grade, gaping at the buildings.

"These guys have money to burn," Zack muttered.

"Careful," said Simon. "Statements like that are what got us into this mess to begin with!"

"Can someone please explain to me what the purpose of all of this is?" Ippi asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know. I guess they're trying to make me find something, but it doesn't make sense. That recording said that...the other me found a cure-all drug somewhere, but she mentioned a different planet."

"Perhaps they are seeking an item that can be found on both planets?" Simon mused.

I checked the compass. North was straight through the clusters of ugly chrome `trailers.'

"We have to cross through here to get to our destination," I said. "We should find a door."

"I don't like it," Ippi said. "Let's go around."

"She's right," said Sharad. "It looks like a trap."

"You think they got food in there?" Absolute asked.

Ippi rolled her eyes. "If so, it's cheese for a mousetrap."

I sighed. "She's right. This place looks sketchy."

As we neared this strange full scale model, I opened the rucksack, distributing guns to everyone, just in case something went down.

Walking around the place felt like déjà vu. Of course, it had rained constantly when Ernie had explored the area. This place, in contrast, was dry.

The two story structure had a horseshoe-like configuration, with overhead bridges connecting the two sides.

Absolute pointed at the darkened neon bar sign. "There's a pub. They've got to at least have peanuts."

You'd make a good elephant," Ippi said. "Scatter a few peanuts into a big trap..." She slapped her hands together.

The boy glared at her, but I gave her a nod.

We kept walking.

Hearing a soft rumble, I looked up ahead and saw a female figure driving a golf cart toward us, the wheels of the vehicle kicking up a cloud of dust.

It stopped and the female got out.

She wore a burgundy colored trenchcoat. I could see black speckled gold-tan fur exploding from the open neck. A tail curled behind her in a question mark.

We all drew our guns.

The female raised her hands in surrender. "Whoa! Easy there! I'm unarmed!"

We slowly put our weapons away.

Well, except for Moe. He wasn't taking any chances.

Her face was human, narrow, with green eyes. Her nose, although also human, had unusual curvature that reminded me of a feline.

She took one look at Ippi and said, " _Dusaq, royal double. Quana has told me so much about you._ "

"Good things, I hope," Ippi said.

I stared. "Ippi, who is this?"

She shrugged. "Why do you think I know?"

"Her name is Wursobva Morgan," Camille said. "I used to invite her to my house every Christmas."

Wursobva looked pained. "I'm sorry about the last four. I _'ve been busy._ "

"Well, it's good to see you now," Camille said. "How's life been treating you?"

"Could be better," Morgan said. "I'm still continuing my scientific studies, but of course, now that I'm here, I can no longer risk sending your son on supply runs."

"It's another one of them!" Guessica said. "How many of them are there?"

 _"A whole planet full,"_ Morgan answered with a smile.

Camille, noticing my staring, said, "She worked for the school, in the science department. She does cooperative projects between our planets..."

 _"Did,"_ Morgan said. " _Past tense_. These days you have to be extra careful, especially regarding what kind of technology you share with human beings. If _this place_ is any indication, having their kind visiting my home planet is a terrible idea. It's bad enough I contributed to their synthetic human projects."

"You figured out a way to make them inexpensive to produce," I guessed.

She nodded. "Among other things."

Ippi looked at Pillow. "You think we can trust this _seomabmi_?"

Camille gave her a nervous glance. "I don't know. _She disappears for six years, and then I get abducted from my home..._ "

"Oh right!" Morgan barked. "And the demented _humans_ you live next door to are _so_ trustworthy!"

The remark was so sharp and hostile that everyone fell silent and stared at her.

Camille bowed her head, forming the sign of a lowered tail behind her back with one hand. " _Hua kigo._ This place has been difficult on all of us. It's hard to trust anyone."

Morgan sighed through her nostrils. "Quana was my best friend. I don't buy all that Jesus stuff, but I respected her for it. I would never betray her husband by lifting a hand against you."

"Are you saying that because we're carrying guns?" Moe asked. "Or do you really mean it?"

Morgan scowled. " _If you're helping her, I mean it._ Otherwise, you can go to hell."

Moe clicked his tongue, as if preparing a nasty retort, but then shelved it when he saw the look on my face.

She pointed her tail at the children. "Can they be trusted?"

"They're obsessed with aliens," I said. "They trust me with their lives, and I trust them."

"I hope your trust is not misplaced."

"They're cool," Sharad said. "They used to worship Shasharmazorb, but I think they're over it now."

Morgan stared, then pointed at Julia. "They worship _these?_ "

 _"We did,"_ Bo Peep stammered.

She stared at the ground, sadness sweeping her features. "Not anymore."

Morgan stared at Lammy. "I've seen those things tear through human bodies, yet I've seen another make oil paintings."

"They are not all like the ones on Wuxrinus," Pillow said. "Ours are mostly well behaved. None of them have hurt anyone lately."

"That's good."

Morgan pointed at Moe. "You've got one of those on your team. How do I know he's not going to stab _me_ in the back?"

 _"I have to wait for my girlfriend to give me the orders before I do something like that,"_ Moe answered.

I reddened when Morgan looked at me. "He's my friend, and he's male, so yes, I kinda give him orders sometimes. If we can trust you, you have nothing to worry about."

She turned her attention to Hosea. "And what about her?"

I shrugged. "She's fine. She's just possessed by an alien."

"So what are you doing here?" I asked the strange Abreya. "How did you end up in this place?"

"I was abducted. Ironic, isn't it? In the stories, it's always _the alien_ doing the abductions. I was removed from my home and taken to some _compound_ where they `encouraged' me to make whatever scientific devices they asked for..."

Hosea kept flipping a lever on the side of one of the trailer units. I could tell Morgan was trying very hard to ignore her.

"After awhile, I got good at playing dumb. Letting my studies from the Etcunac lapse helped immensely. You can't build a reactor that uses string energy if you don't study how to make one."

Morgan gave Sharad a bow, touching her index and middle finger to the tip of her tail. _"Tuajozjat_."

Sharad replied, "You don't need to do that. I'm not _Binkowabe_. I got adopted and taken to Bencap when I was very young."

Morgan smiled. " _Loex podotebcik._ "

"What's Bencap?" Caitlyn asked. "It's a country. Very democratic. Lots of children. I think you'd like it."

She attempted communication with Nathan, but the boy wasn't as conversant in Wava as she appeared to be expecting.

"I'm working on him," Pillow said. "They've had me separated from him so much that his training has been irregular."

Morgan grimaced. " _Hence the lack of clothing._ " She sighed. "I'm really sorry about that. I've seen how they raised him, sat him in front of _Teletubbies_ and _Paw Patrol_ instead of giving him true _rarworqe_ education."

She looked from the boy to Quana and back.

"Yes, they come from two different naruns," Pillow groaned. "I'm not exactly proud of it, but that's how it is. I love them equally. Maybe, if he wishes, and we find him, one day Nathan will meet his biological father. We'll see."

"I'm not judging you," Morgan said. "I've never seen them up close. Some infants _are_ born with _libkubca_ , missing fur. I thought this was the same thing, but it isn't. _Your two species actually succeeded in combining to form a new offspring!_ "

Ippi, noting how Zack had fixed her with an amorous stare, pretended to be looking somewhere else.

Morgan cringed when the Ss'sik'chtokiwij sniffed her. She didn't voice her upset, but she didn't appear comfortable with them.

She approached the baby in Pillow's arms, smiling at it. "Dusaq! Cikhibyi damuqegu! Kreah chick cahna?"

"Her name is Quana," Pillow said.

"Half human," Morgan breathed. "There must be some kind of genetic similarity between the two species."

"She's a miracle," Pillow said. "My husband is one hundred percent human. He doesn't even have a _wumloq_. _We used a device_ , and yet here she is."

Morgan examined the baby's tail, her feet. "It definitely is an amazing circumstance. Although I hesitate to call anything a miracle, it does challenge my understanding of biology. You say he's _completely human_ , with all the normal reproductive equipment? Nothing unusual at all? Nothing that would make him even _partly_ Abreya?"

 _"Only in his mind,"_ Pillow said. "The only unusual thing about his body is the fact a _certain thing_ is a bit _shorter than most_ , which, believe it or not, makes the device work better."

"TMI," Zack muttered.

Ippi looked at him like he were crazy. "I'm surprised you're not taking notes!"

Now, ever since the golf cart had arrived, Morgan had been staring at Haman with a look of uncomfortable disgust. It seemed she had wanted to say something, but didn't have words respectful enough.

At last she broached the subject by gesturing to the infant. " _I'm sorry about this_. At first, I had no idea what they were doing, and when I at last found out, I wasn't in any position to intervene."

"It's a _child_ ," Pillow said. "I have to accept him and love him for what he is, because I don't know who else will."

"Wait," I said. "How do you know about Ss'sik'chtokiwij, but not about David and his babies?"

Morgan shrugged. " _He's a human._ In case you haven't noticed, there's an abundance of them on this planet. How am I supposed to tell which human is her male when I never saw them together?"

Pillow narrowed her eyes. "And how, pray tell, _would_ you see us together, if you did?"

"I have _camera access_ ," Morgan said. "I've been making sure you remained safe this whole time. I would have come to meet you before now, but I've been busy."

"Busy!" Ippi scoffed. "With what? Androids?"

After casting nervous glances at her surroundings, Morgan spoke in hushed tones. "I'm taking down the organization from the inside. I've learned you have to be careful. You can't trust everybody. And even when you think you can trust someone, there's a chance they'll still betray you for the right price. I have _plans_ , but I'm walking a tightrope."

 _"Tell me about it,"_ I said.

Absolute pointed to the building. "Is there food in there?"

"Just my personal supplies," said Morgan. "This is built to be a simulation, not an actual place for people to live."

I asked, "You got enough supplies to feed my crew?"

She frowned. "Perhaps. If you'll come inside with me, I'll set you up with some chairs and see what I can scrounge up."

"Thank you, but no," Ippi said. "This place looks like a trap. Bring the food outside."

"I've been living in that so-called `trap' for _months_. I assure you there are no hidden snares inside, unless you go wandering off someplace I haven't explored."

Morgan stroked Mark's back. "I contributed to the Sil project. I'm glad to see that _something_ survived."

"I heard nothing about you on that project," said Pillow.

"It was done electronically from my lab." She pointed her tail at the building. "You can take a look if you want."

Simon shook his head. "We really must be on our way."

"It's getting dark. You'll be safe in here...a lot safer than other places in this _Beptot._ "

"I'm staying outside," Pillow said.

Morgan looked up at the sky, where a drone already buzzed around. "You want to come inside where it's relatively safe, or take your chances with the soldiers and army vehicles they could send our way?"

"With those drones, they already know where we are. It won't make any difference."

"You don't know what kind of labyrinthine hiding places we've got in here."

"Yeah? Well _I'm_ fucking positive they have the _blueprints!_ "

"We can take them now," Moe said. "The army, I mean. We have the guns and the flesh eating aliens. We'll keep watches, just like before."

Ippi still looked skeptical, so I added, "You want to be outside when those security spheres come rolling through?"

She clenched her fists and teeth. "Damn. All right. Show us inside."

Obviously, we couldn't all fit in the golf cart. Camille, being exhausted, sat up next to Morgan, Pillow and Absolute seating themselves in the back. She drove slowly enough that everyone could keep up.

After marching a few yards this way, we arrived at a pressure door, Morgan punching in the code to unlock and open it.

"It's all fake," Morgan said as the door hissed open. "If this thing were suddenly under the ocean, water would flow in like a sieve. The ceiling leaks every time it rains."

We followed her into a long hexagonal tunnel, banded in yellow. Everything in the building was modular.

I got a strange sense of déjà vu as I looked at everything. Before, it was only in Ernie's mind. Now I actually got to _see_ the place.

Morgan rapped a fist on a bulkhead. "Cheap aluminum and plywood. The oxygen tanks you see are empty plastic. Thank God the pipes actually work."

"So much for your money theory!" Simon muttered to Zack.

"Oh, I don't know. Every billionaire's got to cut corners somewhere. Wasn't it Howard Hughes that lived on cans of soup and chili beans?"

"I have no idea, but it sounds patently ridiculous. _Did you know that man made a sixty meter airplane out of birch wood? I hear he even built a master bedroom for his pets, with a rutting personal servant to take care of their every whim!"_

"These days," I said. "That last part sounds like the law."

It was an impressive mock-up. I could imagine people actually living there.

"A lot of those doors are fake," Morgan said. "They don't even lead into rooms."

We entered a laboratory, one with an uncanny resemblance to the one Ernie had slept in while the face hugging socmavaj had attacked Newt and my namesake.

The place had been modified somewhat from the memory I'd viewed. For one thing, the glass tanks were all empty except one, a fine queen bed with a polished wooden frame stood in the back corner.

It had a long work table with computers on it, a mahogany dresser, bookcase loaded with novels and textbooks, Bally's _King Tut_ and Williams _Earthshaker_ and _Road Kings_ pinball machines.

 _"This looks charming,"_ Moe said.

"You can put that gun away now," Morgan said to him. "I'm outnumbered and outgunned. You have no reason to fear me."

Moe sighed through his nostrils, holstering the weapon.

I stared at the occupied tank, with its creature floating upside down in liquid. "What are you doing with this?"

"It's as artificial as the building," Morgan said. "They won't let me play with a real one."

She turned on a stereo positioned next to the tank, playing Prince's ` _Trust'_ and the thing in the tank broke into a dancing frenzy like those toys from a novelty store. The children laughed and applauded.

To my surprise, even the Ss'sik'chtokiwij made sounds of mirth, for the same reason, I suppose, that dancing babies are so popular on the internet.

She shut the stereo off.

Morgan stepped into her walk-in kitchen, bringing out the food she had available, along with a few folding chairs.

Half of it looked unfit for human consumption. Containers full of cockroaches covered in wax and dry dog food, something made from curdled milk, wheat grass, candy corn and hamburger, and sandwiches that smelled like old hamburger grease, served with Marshmallow Peeps in gravy. Bug legs stuck out of barbecue sauce drizzled Twinkies.

There were other similar things involving soft cat food, rats, chitlins and parsley...

Camille had no qualms about eating the stuff. She said she got used to the taste of such things after her trip to Pathilon, and all those Christmases with her son. The Abreyas, of course, ate their fill.

Absolute, being one of the more adventurous of the group (at least in the gustatory sense) sampled some of their cuisine, but couldn't quite stomach it. Fortunately there were Hot Pockets and microwavable White Castle burgers and such for the humans.

To the Ss'sik'chtokiwij, including Hosea, anything with protein in it was fair game, strangely cooked, raw or expired.

The latter caused Hosea to vomit, but for the most part they were nourished by stuff humans couldn't eat, allowing both to fill their stomachs. Even Mark got full on...whatever it was.

Seeing me eating along with them, Moe tried to do the same, to impress me, I guess, but he didn't care for it much. He got a good ribbing from Ippi about that.

He resorted to dining on cans of kidney beans, broccoli soup and other stuff the kids turned their noses up at.

Morgan pointed to my glistening insect arm. "I saw how they repaired the damage on that last time. If we got the right tools, I could regrow the skin."

"Thanks," I said. "But no. I'm okay the way it is. It reminds me of who I am."

Zack tapped Morgan on the shoulder, whispering something to her.

"No way," she said. "I'm not teaching you to say _that._ "

 _"Wumvupa,_ " said Ippi.

"We have a very difficult journey ahead of us," Amos said to me. "I hope we can succeed."

"I hope so too," I said.

"What do you think we will do once we leave here, and go to that...other place?"

Ippi, who had been standing next to us, said, "I have a pretty good idea. You and the humans will be put on display in the potilucige as zoo animals while us Abreyas will be out looking for work and trying to make a life four ourselves. _There might be_ some financial reward _for acquiring all of you..._ "

"So you're going to turn us all in to another jailer," I said.

"I didn't say that. I just meant that _someone_ might."

"I thought we were going to a refuge," I said. "Some kind of nature preserve or something."

 _"Our zoos are highly advanced!"_

I grabbed Pillow. "Is this true? Are we all going to be on display in some zoological park?"

Pillow laughed. "Oh no no! _My husband would be the first one on display_! No, we'd have to drop you off in Zaodotge or Tebgikma, somewhere remote where you can live out your lives in peace."

"But no jobs, right? Nothing normal?"

Pillow sighed. "I think _the humans can._ As far as the Ss'sik'chtokiwij are concerned, well...they might have to find a _niche_.

 _"Like a carnival,"_ Ippi said.

I frowned. "Would we still be free?"

 _"I'd stay in Tebgikma._ "

"If we can sneak past Duxaqore," Ippi said.

Noting my blank look, Pillow said. "It's like customs. I wouldn't worry about that until we get off this planet."

"So we'd stay in a jungle. I suppose that's better than what we have to face here."

"Anything's better than here," Pillow said.

"Earth should be wiped off the star charts," said Ippi. "That's why I love post-apocalyptic films so much. I want to be the one dropping the bombs and germ weapons. Humans are scum."

"You seemed to care for their children," I argued.

"Okay, so maybe I wouldn't _bomb_ the earth, but I would like a scenario like the _Knowing_ movie, where the children are taken while the adults get obliterated. In the right environment, maybe human foqipi could be better than their parents."

I didn't exactly disagree, but Pillow said, "Our Lord died to save all intelligent lifeforms, Abreya and human alike. `All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.'"

Ippi, more annoyed than swayed, responded by saying, " _Spare the sermon, Sister Pillow_. I don't even have a good weapon for the job yet."

Mrs. Barnes sighed, shook her head.

"What happened to your tail?" Absolute said to Pillow. "I never got a chance to ask."

Pillow sighed. "Someone hurt me, but I've forgiven them just as Jesus forgave me."

"Why would an alien believe in Jesus?"

"It's in our books of prophecy, Yars and Iberet, to name two. There are others. Jesus _is_ lord of all, right? That includes the universe."

"That's really weird."

"Some might say disappointing. They think that every planet has to have its own god."

"That's how it is in Stargate. You ever watch that show?"

Pillow's slotted pupils flashed beneath their eyelids. " _I and my husband may have seen a few episodes._ I wish they had kept those cute camel beasts they had in the original movie."

The two prattled about their favorite episodes like a couple geeks. Ippi groaned in annoyance.

Morgan touched a scar behind Guessica's ear. "How'd you get that?"

"I'm a Shasharmahim," the girl answered. " _I was_."

She briefly explained what her cult was about.

Morgan pointed her tail at Caitlyn. "Is she also part of this little cult?"

"No. She's my daughter. I adopted her."

Sharad and Ippi spoke to Morgan at length about something, but I couldn't make heads or tails of what they were saying.

At times, Camille would point at Julia. I think they were discussing the Ss'sik'chtokiwij's unorthodox birth at that point, but I wasn't sure.

I kinda felt left out

"So," Ippi said to Guessica. "I still don't understand. These things..." she gestured to Julia and Lammy with her tail. "They have been known to attack and kill Abreyas, and... _people_. Why would someone worship that?"

"Lots of cultures have death goddesses," Guessica said. "Golic told us about that."

 _"And the universe is hostile to human life_ ," Absolute added. "He told us about the qualities of their species that made them so invulnerable to everything that it made them like gods. We wanted to be invulnerable too. Golic had a story, a myth about how we were supposed to evolve and reincarnate into them. It sounds kinda stupid, now that I think of it. There was a lot of peer pressure."

He sighed and walked away, busying himself with the Earthshaker pinball machine.

"Look into my eyes," Zack said to Caitlyn when she had finished eating a Castle Burger.

She looked.

The man raised his left hand. "What hand am I holding up?"

She thought about it for a minute. After all, he was facing her, and it's not something you immediately think of all the time. "Your...left."

He raised his right. "And now?"

"Right."

"I want you to touch your pockets like this..." Zack said, touching the right, left and right again.

She did what he said, then gasped when she felt something in her left pocket.

She reached in and pulled out a plastic swan I'd seen on one of the child workers' desks.

My daughter stared at him in amazement. "How'd that get in there?"

Zack grinned.

Simon sighed in impatience, plopping down on a stool.

The babies were crying. Pillow set about locating the necessary changing supplies at once.

Zack, to impress Ippi, I suppose, attempted to change Quana, but the mother said, "If you really want to help, take care of Haman. I haven't done him yet."

I could see him glancing at Ippi, Ippi in turn giving him a look that said, "Well?"

So he, looking rather ill, set about the task.

He did the job passably well, mentioning the fact he once had a younger sister, and his mother assigned him the task a few times.

"Of course, it's a little different with a tail in the way."

The babies got fed, washed and changed, reducing the noise level considerably.

Simon, in the meantime, took stock of the chemicals around Morgan's workstation. He'd slipped a couple vials into his pockets before Morgan scolded him.

"You know, you could have just asked!"

Simon smiled and handed one of the vials back. But only one. "My apologies... _Please._ "

I noticed the vial looked different from the one he'd taken, but said nothing.

Morgan frowned at the vial, apparently not catching on to the sleight. "What did you want this for anyway?"

 _"A magician never reveals his secrets._ "

She stared at the label. "This is just some colored tap water I was testing for impurities."

 _"Ah. How disappointing._ "

When Ippi wasn't looking, Zack murmured to Pillow about something, then Camille.

The two females came together in whispered Wava for a moment, then gave the guy instruction.

Armed with this new knowledge, he turned to Ippi and said, " _Cikib_ _damuqegu kai huaib_ _ip bozakda sadneybo._ "

Ippi and the other Wava speaking adults burst out laughing.

This left him confused and completely embarrassed.

Pillow jabbered something to Ippi, and both had a chuckle at his expense.

Embarrassed, he retreated to a corner of the room, playing with his cards.

Morgan gave Zack a knowing look, like she'd been through all of that sort of thing before.

Moe patrolled the outer hallway, checking for possible threats. He did this so many times that Morgan sent him on errands to the various rooms to get blankets and other supplies. "You're already pacing around..."

With his help, Morgan had found a playsuit in one of the rooms, put there, I guess, to add veracity to the simulation. The outfit didn't quite fit him, stopping at the knees, and the color was a girly fuchsia, but Pillow said she had made her husband wear worse.

"It's a little small, but it's something."

She tried to get Mark a playsuit too, but the quills were a problem. Morgan resorted to shortening a lab coat with a pair of scissors and letting the quills turn the back into swiss cheese. It was better than nothing.

"What do brothers and sisters do?" Mark asked my daughter as he fidgeted in the outfit.

"Dunno," Caitlyn said. "Just be there for each other, I guess. Sometimes they play doctor or wear each other's clothes. I never had a brother."

"I used to have a brother," Sharad said. "I miss him."

Caitlyn pointed to one of the Abreya's eyestalks. "Is it hard to see with those?"

Sharad laughed. "Is it hard to see with yours on top of your nose?"

She craned her eyestalks backwards. "I can always look behind me."

Caitlyn stepped closer to her, extending a hand to the bald flat section of forehead where eyes would have been on a human face. "I've been wanting to do this for some time...is it okay if I..."

Sharad grinned. "Are you afraid you're going to poke something out?"

Caitlyn touched the spot, then shuddered, jerked her hand back, like a squeamish preschooler touching a frog for the first time.

Sharad, in turn, gently touched my daughter's eyelids.

Hearing an odd noise, I looked back and saw Hosea muttering to the thing in the tank.

Morgan leaned over the display. "That's a machine, you know."

"It is not uncommon to talk to machines."

"Yes, to some...but that one can't hear."

"It hears _music._ " The machine wiggled with each word. "See? It moves when I speak."

"Is she one of yours?" Morgan asked Guessica.

".. _.No._ "

But Bo Peep said, "She is a priestess."

Then she faltered, getting that lost look again.

Zack, seemingly uninterested in books or pinball, idly made cards vanish and reappear in his hands by means of an elastic band. The kids watched him doing this a couple times, but eventually lost interest.

"Is there any way for _me_ to do that?" Julia asked him.

"Sorry," Zack said. "You've got to have _sleeves._ "

Now that Hosea no longer spoke to it, Bo Peep stared forlornly at the thing in the tank.

"Hey," Moe said to Bo Peep. "You all right?"

The girl nodded.

Guessica gave her a hug, whispering something to her.

A moment later, Bo Peep broke down and cried on her shoulder.

She seemed a little less spacey after that, even playing Road Kings a few times. She liked pushing the buttons and hearing the sound effects.

Lammy crawled up the bookshelf, examining the titles.

 _The Five Children and It_ caught her eye. She brought it down, staring at the pictures.

"I can help you read that," Julia said.

Lammy nodded, so Julia read the first story to her. Amos soon joined her.

The children, fascinated by all this, sat crosslegged on the floor to listen to a story about a thing called a Psammead that lived in a sandbox.

So did Mark, Nathan and Hosea.

It was a bizarre juxtaposition. Kids at storytime, with guns on the floor beside them, listening to a killer bug alien with a book. I guess this was the new normal for us.

Sharad, in the meantime, helped Morgan and Pillow clear off a table, covering it with blankets to serve as a makeshift crib for the infants.

Hosea was the first one to crash. She collapsed on the bed before Morgan could tell her not to.

The adjoining lab room contained four metal beds. Morgan laid blankets over them and let Absolute, Guessica and Bo Peep sleep there for the night.

I myself refused to go near the place.

It felt too weird to sleep in the room where Newt got attacked.

Newt was a human girl!

The thought didn't gel until I looked through that glass window at those beds.

Through Ernie's eyes, I saw the whole scene unfold, the child hiding under a bed as the facehugging socmavaj lashed out at her, my namesake throwing obstacles in the way, to impede its terrible purpose...

The glass didn't look as indestructible as the type Ernie remembered, but it still left an unsettling impression in my mind.

I shuddered.

I know the fear was irrational, since I was a part of one, but the guy with the sledgehammer at a slaughterhouse, while perfectly ordinary, is still frightful to most human beings. The same goes for police officers and military officials.

In fact, even a corny romance movie or a soap opera, one that's purportedly all about innocent things like love and family, can still sometimes be pretty horrific. The man and woman kiss with such surprising violence that they look like they're eating each other's faces off, like dogs biting each other in the mouth.

They say that when you smile, you show off your skeleton. That's not a very nice thought, either.

Sometimes the fear of yourself, and what you're capable of, is what makes a thing truly scary.

That hidden destructive force within yourself.

Lord, I was tired.

Still, I wasn't about to sleep _there_!

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij gathered in their usual _Sodibwa_ sleeping arrangement around the beds. The children, fatigued from their stressful journey, soon joined them in somnolence, trusting that at least one Ss'sik'chtokiwij would be awake at all times to keep them safe.

Morgan laid down some blankets for Camille and the others outside the room. Pillow and Sharad, being _Oxucar_ , did not require sleep for another twenty four hours, so they stayed up talking and caring for the _L_ _eyonda_ infants.

Ippi would try to toilet train Nathan a couple times during the night, but he wouldn't make it to the bathroom.

Zack and Simon, instead of going to sleep, stepped out into the corridor to talk.

Mark requested a mind to mind communication with Julia, so the two lay down on the floor together, connected by ssujmarrux.

As I watched them, I found myself wishing Ernie were there, so I could get more of a complete story of this base and its particulars.

"I know Ss'sik'chtokiwij," Mark told me when he awakened from the trance. "Julia has led an interesting life. I got to see _you_ , mommy, and I may even know where _your_ mother is."

"You know the exact place?"

He and Julia shook their heads, growling in a similar way, their mind connection appearing to rub off in other ways. "We recognize _hallways_. Perhaps this will help us later."

"I hope so."

Julia asked Moe if he wanted to try it, but he said he had to be ready in case something bad happened to the group.

"You should sleep," I told him. "I never saw you rest. You must be exhausted. I'll watch this time."

With some reluctance, he agreed, clearing a spot on the floor. He smiled at me as he laid down.

"Thanks for keeping a lookout," Ippi said to him. "You actually made me feel more secure."

Moe smirked at her. " _Abukos_." He closed his eyes.

Caitlyn laid down next to him, which made the man smile and put his arm around her, like father and daughter.

Still not ready for the idea of starting a family with him, I stepped out into the hallway to keep watch.

Simon and Zack were busy discussing plans for overthrowing DAMBALLAH, plotting out some magic tricks that they might use against this or that official, if they happened to find the right supplies for the job.

When they noticed me eavesdropping, they moved further down the hallway.

Mark had insisted on coming along to keep watch with me, but he was soon snoring against me as I sat next to the door.

Actually, I had _napped_ next to the door.

I didn't know I had been doing it until I found myself dreaming.

I dreamed of Ernie's grandmother.

Ernie, Amos, Lammy, Julia, Hosea and all the rest of our kin were together in that concrete dungeon of hers.

I embraced the huge creature, pressed my face to her chest, listened to her breathe. We did not speak at all.

I thought she would tell me something profound, or maybe give me clues about how to find her, some kind of connection like I shared with Ernie, but then I came to the conclusion that my visions of Ernie helping me out of hell were not sent by the Ss'sik'chtokiwij, by some strange telepathic link, but were rather a personal communique from God to help me get saved.

This dream, therefore, would not help our rescue efforts in the slightest. It only underlined the fact I was longing for a family.

All of a sudden, I found myself being shaken awake, blurred eyes focusing on a figure in a trenchcoat, a figure constantly checking over its shoulders for danger.

"Someone's coming," she hissed. "You have to leave now!"

"What time is it," I groaned.

"That's unimportant. Shake off the cobwebs and get up. You need some coffee? Beer?"

"What?" I said, confused.

"Never mind. Wake the rest of your team and move out! There's not much time!"

I rushed into the lab, shaking everyone awake, getting the children out of the `death lab'. Hosea and Absolute were the slowest ones to stir, but I eventually got even them awake and on their feet with a little cold water.

Morgan had found a collection of aluminum thermoses in the compound, so now Pillow stood before a tank half filled with coffee (someone had set it up directly behind the dancing socmavaj) filling as many as she could. Sharad packed lunches.

Once everyone was up and gathered around me, further preparation was abandoned. We all followed Morgan down through a maze of corridors,where we at last arrived at a door that looked like it belonged on a house, complete with a screen and storm glass.

She undid a deadbolt, ushering us outside into the pre-dawn dark.

"Are you coming with us?" I asked our benefactor.

"Don't worry about me. Just go. For the sake of Camille and the children."

She gave me a flashlight, but one was too powerful to use without being seen, so she also handed me a pen light, for the purpose of checking the compass. I thanked the woman, then led my group ahead across the shadowed rubble strewn landscape.

We guzzled coffee on the march, eating whatever had been packed, mostly leftovers, but also some breakfast burritos.

The Abreyas passed a whiskey flask amongst themselves.

"Won't that make you groggy?" I asked.

"Depressants have the opposite effect on us," Pillow said. "They give Abreyas pep and clarity."

 _"And_ high blood pressure. _And_ the jitters," Ippi added.

I pointed out the fact that Morgan filled a large tank with coffee.

"Well..." Pillow said. "She brewed a little before bed to help us sleep, _like a nightcap_. She thought it would also be a good idea for you non-Abreyas in the morning... _and maybe she's a drinker._ "

After that discussion. we traveled in silence, for obvious reasons.

Well, except for Hosea, whom we had to silence numerous times due to her musical outbursts.

Hearing noises behind me, I glanced back and saw the lights of drones in the sky, hovering over the compound we'd left, and in the distance, the headlights of a truck.

Coming from another direction, I could see a small glowing orb rolling across the ground, an approaching security sphere, perhaps. We ducked into a crater to hide.

The crater was shallow, created, it seemed, with excavation equipment and dynamite.

The moment we descended its bumpy interior grade, a group of small shadowy figures arose from the darkness, every one of them drawing knives.

"Come with us," one of them hissed in Ss'sik'chtokiwij. "The leader wishes to speak with you."


	60. Chapter 60: New Village

The figures shuffled around me in the dark, murmuring to one another in broken Ss'sik'chtokiwij. Their blades glinted star light. I could see their heat signature, but my normal human companions only stepped back at the barked orders and the flashing blades.

Caitlyn took my pen light, shining it at the face of one of the figures.

It was an effeminate looking Indian boy with the X-Box logo tattooed over his face, clad in a gray shirt and gray pants.

"It's okay," Absolute said. "It's just X-Box. He's one of us. Golic named him Tinky Winky, but nobody calls him that." He took the light, shining it on the others. "It's cool. I know them."

People did all sorts of whoring out to get free stuff, I guessed.

"I have Ss'sik'chtokiwij with me," I said to Mr. X-Box. "What would your god think about you pulling knives on them?"

Several of the Shasharmazhim flinched.

"Our weapons are reserved for the humans," X-Box said.

I answered, "Don't hurt them. Shasharmazorb is my mother. We're all trying to help her."

"Such things are said frequently by our enemies. You prove your words with action. You must meet the leader."

I followed the gang of Shasharmazhim to the opposite end of the crater, helping to form a chain for the others who couldn't see so well in the dark. We moved in relative silence, instinctively knowing the need to do so.

None of the Shasharmazhim used lights. It seemed either incredibly smart or incredibly stupid. When I asked Absolute about it, he said that Shasharmazhim try to emulate the Ss'sik'chtokiwij in every way. One of their aspirations had been to master the art of blind movement, relying on other senses to move through the darkness, or train the eyes to adjust to super low levels of light to become more skilled and adaptable fighters.

Our leader climbed a pile of boulders, sticking his head up, gopher-like, to search for danger.

Finding none, he led us across and down through a second crater, then a third.

When we came out again, the dusty quarry turned to mud, then a thickly wooded area.

I expected more stumbling on the part of our escorts, but it was my team that had more difficulty navigating the tree roots, underbrush and the like. The stumbling ones quickly latched on to the more perceptive for support.

The Shasharmazhim obviously had no difficulty. The Abreyas also did fairly well, though it was clear they didn't have total night vision, instead relying on their tails or noses to give them a heads-up about the next obstacle.

Camille, to my surprise, ended up leaning on Julia like a seeing eye dog.

Moe took the flashlight, grumping about how he wished he had brought along the night vision goggles from Pillow's house.

Absolute, Guessica and Bo Peep tried to adjust and move like the other Shasharmazhim, but they were a little out of practice.

Branches cracked noisily under our feet. Leaves and plants rustled. The children that led us, however, moved with a little more stealth.

"I hope there are no ticks," Guessica said. "Last time I wandered around through here, there were ticks."

"I ate a tick once," Absolute said. "It was on a dog. I thought it was a grape. I was a dumb kid."

After about a mile of marching in the dark, I noticed the flickering of flames. I thought for sure we had a small forest fire on our hands, but as we came nearer to the light, I discovered that someone had set up dozens of pillar torches around a dirt path.

Now able to see a little more clearly, we let go of each other, following the trail as it wound through the trees, over a ridge.

Half a mile down, this road opened up, and we found ourselves shuffling into what appeared to be a Frankenstein movie set.

To my left, I saw a semicircle of timber frame houses in the German style, stone around the bottom level, brown wood crisscrossed around the exterior walls, barn-like roofs.

Old timey looking gas lamps and torches illuminated this strange scene, supplemented at points by the kind of dull flood lamps you see on garages.

Dark banners bearing strange symbols flapped from poles around the windows. I saw flower boxes, but the plants were dead.

They had a hedge maze off to the right, and a hospital. The right area also held a small store, a cafe and a courthouse.

 _"Welcome to New Village,"_ said X-Box.

The child led us across the square, past a gurgling fountain of mermaids and bronze horses. The fountain was really detailed. Near the bottom, near its submerged multicolored lights, I even saw small water nymphs mounted on fish that sprayed water out of their mouths.

The buildings all had numbers on them. All single digits, though I could see more behind them that probably continued on in the sequence.

X-Box led us to the wooden front door of a building marked with the number 2, which swung open automatically as we approached.

We entered a small round anteroom decorated with suits of armor, medieval weaponry and heraldic images, with a fine circular mahogany table in the center, one dominated with a fearsome looking taxidermy owl.

Two men with shaved heads and gray clothes stood guard at a chrome door opposite the one we came in, knives at the ready.

"Tell your companions to wait outside," said one of them as X-Box led me closer.

Moe, Ippi and the magicians pulled out weapons. I drew mine as well.

With visible reluctance, Bo Peep, Absolute and Guessica raised their own guns, backing us up.

"The way I see it..." Moe pointed his assault rifle at one of the guards. " _You guys aren't in the position to give any orders._ "

"That's just Re and Mi," Absolute said. " _You don't have to kill them._ "

Julia scurried out in front of the group, addressing the strangers in Ss'sik'chtokiwij. "We travel with this clan or not at all. They have the interests of Shasharmazorb at heart. Impede us, and you oppose Shasharmazorb herself!"

I nodded. "We could have shot your people, but we came along voluntarily. Show us your leader. No one needs to get hurt."

A black man on the left side of the door glanced uncomfortably at the white man across from him, then pushed a button, causing the shiny metal door to slide open.

X-Box led us down a ramp into an enormous gridded dome with purple walls illuminated by lights, observatory style. A huge wall sized video monitor displayed a magnified view of moving wax blobs in a lava lamp.

The center of this chamber held a wide chrome horseshoe shaped desk, and a black orb.

As we came to the foot of the ramp, this orb slowly spun around, and I could see that it was actually a type of moon chair, one with thick blue padding.

The moment I saw the occupant of this chair, my mouth fell open in shock.

It was Golic.

Completely alive, clean cut, clean shaven, dressed in a suit, with a Ss'sik'chtokiwij larva in his lap.

The man smiled and gave me a wave. "Greetings, O Highly Favored One!"

"But..." I stammered. "I saw you get shot! _You died!_ "

Golic sighed. " _About that..._ "

Absolute, Guessica and Bo Peep did a strange sort of genuflection when they saw him, muttering to each other in awe.

 _"Sia nok!"_ they kept saying. I suppose this was some sort of ritual expression Golic had developed.

"Is it possible that Shasharmazorb can raise the dead after all?" Bo Peep asked, but Guessica muttered, "It has to be a trick."

I kept staring.

People in this place kept faking their deaths. What was it this time? More blood packs? A robot?

Since the man seemed reluctant to tell me, I said, "Let's hear it."

"They actually gave my brother plastic surgery to look like me. Amazing what surgeons can do these days...did you know they did the same trick for Adolf Hitler and Osama Bin Laden?"

I swallowed. "I heard _rumors_. Mostly from tabloids."

"Not all of it is fiction."

"Why didn't you just make an android of yourself?"

"It's less expensive to use a real person. It wasn't my idea. I really hadn't intended for my brother to get shot, at any rate. I knew there was danger, but I didn't know it would escalate into that kind of violence."

"That was cowardly of you, don't you think? Send your bother in when you knew there might be danger?"

"It was The Board's decision. They said I was too valuable to risk placing in a conflict zone, and that I should stay here to ` _maintain my religious order._ ' They arranged for the plastic surgeons."

I glanced at the creature in his lap. "I see you have one of my friends."

"Yes. Jeremy, the last of Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik's children still on earth. Zeke, unfortunately, has been taken aboard a space station. Something called the USM Auriga."

I swallowed as I processed the information.

If we ever got off the island, the name of the station could be incredibly important.

However, the fact that the man spoke about this so freely and openly seemed to indicate that the people in charge had no intention of letting me go into space, and did not even believe it possible for me to do so.

"Your brother isn't the only one who died," Guessica said. "We also lost Tido."

"Only to his hormones," Golic said. "But I won't go into that."

"What?" I cried in confusion.

He picked up a yellow phone on his desk, pushing an extension. "Come up here, please. _Your friends are here to see you._ "

The man stood up, straightened, then winced at a pain in his back. "It's a beautiful chair, but it's murder on your spine!"

He opened a mini fridge, bringing out a pitcher of lemonade, complete with ice and lemon slices. He set it out for us, with some glasses. "Want anything to drink? We have Coke, Sprite, tea, beer or lemonade."

"Pass," I said. "We have somewhere to be."

Hearing a humming sound, I looked to the back of the room and saw a pair of figures emerging from the floor by means of elevator platforms, one male, one female, both standing at parade rest.

The male wore a gray outfit like the cult members that escorted us. I recognized the horse face right away.

The second I almost didn't recognize, as she had changed outfits.

Her costume reminded me of something from _Battle of the Planets_. A short black dress with a blue breast in a bird-like style, a feathered black cape, and a black headdress featuring bird eyes and an orange visor matching the color of her leggings.

Despite the weird getup, the solid black eyes and permanently dyed white hair were still quite distinct.

"Charon?"

"Miss us?" she said.

The two people standing before me shouldn't have been alive.

"How did you get out of that tower?" I asked. "We took the only elevator. I didn't even hear it go all the way up before the explosion."

Charon chuckled. " _I know. We set the charges._ "

She pointed to Simon. "Mr. Wodehouse here took the detonator. Lucky for us, there was another way out. _That place is full of secret staircases and trapdoors._ "

"But the dust..." I said, staring at Simon.

 _"I cut things a trifle close,"_ he muttered. "I wanted to make sure the two had ample time to escape. Radio reception was a tad _dodgy..._ "

I reddened in anger. "You had a _radio?_ "

"I _do_ (present tense), but something happened to it during the explosion so that it no longer works."

He pulled out a small black box with an antenna. "Bloody primitive, but that's sometimes the best you can manage."

I never thought of asking him until that moment, but the whole situation begged the question. "How did you get into that tower to begin with?"

Simon poured himself some lemonade. "I'm an expert on picking locks, and the building offered several hidden entrances to choose from."

"But why would you want to go in there at all?"

Wodehouse sipped his drink, smacking approvingly. " _To observe your progress, of course_. Mr. Hattam was under the distinct impression that you're our only ticket off this island. It therefore behooved me to work my way into your company."

I scowled at Charon. "You had us worried sick! _We were crying over you!_ "

The woman gaped in surprise. "You wept... _for me?_ "

 _Well,_ I was thinking. _The children wept for Tido..._ Not wanting to hurt her feelings, I said, _"We were very sad._ "

She smirked. _"I'm touched._ "

I glanced at Camille. "You knew about this and didn't tell me?"

The woman swallowed. "I didn't know who those two people were. How was I supposed to know you were looking for them? I didn't really meet with your group until you went to look for the Hummer!"

This begged another question. I spun around, looked Simon in the eye and said, "You're with them, aren't you? You're with DAMBALLAH."

Wodehouse raised his hands in protest. "What ever gave you that idea? It's absurd!"

"How did you have access to tools to make that fake body?"

"I broke into their robotics lab! They had a 3D printing system! I assure you, I have no connections, personal or otherwise, with the organization!"

I frowned, accepting his answer.

Absolute, Guessica and Bo Peep rushed up to Tido, each giving him a hug.

"What, no hugs for me?" Charon asked.

They embraced her too, and Golic.

Caitlyn looked like she wanted to hug them too, but balked after taking a few steps. She still didn't trust them all the way. I didn't blame her.

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij that had been occupying Golic's lap joined the others, nuzzling against them, churring to them in our language.

"Thank you for bringing them to me," she said. "We're certain to rescue mother now."

"No problem, Jeremy," I said. "She's my mother too."

Hosea introduced herself to her, explaining the problem of her mind transference.

"That is unfortunate. Still, it is not a bad body."

Hosea examined herself appraisingly. "You really think so?"

"Yes. It is an ideal form, both for hunting and the acquisition of mates."

Since Golic had gotten up, Pillow marched over to the moon chair and sat down, half rocking her baby, half grabbing a catnap. The other Abreyas and Camille rested next to her.

As much as they were part of the team, they couldn't shake their sense of differentness from the others, retaining their own tightly knit clique from the main, similar to how Americans cling to one another while traveling abroad.

Charon glanced at what Mark was wearing and laughed. " _Nice outfit._ "

Not understanding the mockery, Mark replied, "Thank you."

" _Yours_ , madame, is _quite stylish_ ," Simon said to her. He gestured to her in a way that called attention. "Now here is a fine lass! A woman _unafraid of flaunting her natural endowments."_

He approached the woman, regarding her with a very serious expression. " _I have a business proposal for you_. When all this adventure is concluded, I shall be short a business partner. Since my act requires the presence of a beautiful stage hand, might I be so bold as to include you in the performances? _You shall receive an adequate fee for your services, of course._ "

As the woman paused and thought about this proposal, Simon conjured up a bouquet of vinyl flowers with a dramatic flourish.

Charon chuckled and took them. "It depends on what I'd be doing, and how well I'd get paid. I'm not an article of cheap stage dressing, or a piece of arm decoration."

Simon cleared his throat. "Yes. Well, _I believe something perfectly respectable can be arranged_. What's important is that you have the figure, I daresay the voluptuous quality to distract an audience away from the sleight of hand I shall be performing on a routine basis. We shall have ample time to hammer out a contract once we escape this wretched place."

"Be careful with that one," Zack said. "He's been known to magic the underwear out of his helpers' clothes without them noticing them. _The last girl didn't notice until she was on stage, and she mentioned `feeling_ a draft.'"

"I'll be sure to _magically_ dislocate some bones the moment he tries it," Charon said.

Casting Zack a sideways glance, Ippi said, _"That's one bit of stagecraft we both have in common._ "

I marched up to Golic. "As you can see, we have an army with us. Our intention is to rush into the facility where Shasharmazorb is being kept, get her on a spaceship belonging to our friends here, and take her to another planet where she can live out her days in peace. Can I trust the support of your army in this? Or are you going to betray us to the organization out of some misguided religious philosophy?"

Golic looked thoughtful.

"I admit your proposal appeals to me, but you must understand that I am already in direct contact with Shasharmazorb. The Board allows me special weekly communion with Her. I do not wish to jeopardize this position with any risky action."

"You don't understand," I said. "If we pull this off, you'll be with your god 24-7, and you'll be in her favor like never before, because you will have granted her freedom and reunited her with her family. We only ask that you join us in fighting against the enemy."

"But they are not the enemy," Golic said. "Don't you see? They are but instruments of our Lord. Would Shasharmazorb not have destroyed them if she but willed it? No, she placed the men and women of the Organization where they are to bring glory unto Herself."

"`Tis a true and trustworthy saying," Tido agreed.

Charon rolled her eyes. "You guys are nuts." Her glance briefly flicked in Tido's direction. _"Cute_ , but nuts."

"How are you having this... _special communion?"_ I asked.

Golic grinned. "I'm so happy you asked! You see, The Board has arranged for a special visiting time today. Ordinarily I only get an audience with Her Majesty once per week, but _now that you're here,_ I should expect to see her again today! Imagine! Twice in one week! What rapture! What bliss!"

 _"What a loony,"_ Charon groaned.

Golic picked up the phone, pushing an extension. "She's here! They're ready! They're ready!"

He then rushed over to the elevator platforms. "Just step right here, if you please! One at a time! We'll all go down there together!"

"Divide and conquer, eh?" I scoffed. "No thanks!"

Moe pointed his rifle at the man. "You're a smart guy. _Ish_. Show us another way to.. _.the lady._ "

"That's really the problem, isn't it?" he stammered. "The Board has everything established for me to access my Lord right here. I have not been shown any easier, more accessible path than this. There is even _a little train!_ "

"You're going to have to try it the hard way," Moe said. We're not idiots."

"Is there another way to at least get down to...wherever those elevators end?" I asked.

"Not that I'm aware of."

"We'd still have a bottleneck," Ippi said. "The strategic advantage would be on their side. I think your term for it is `shooting fish in a barrel.'"

"Charon," I said. "Did you see any soldiers down there? Anyone lying in wait with a trap?"

"Why are you asking _her?_ " Moe asked. "She's betrayed you before. What makes you think she won't do it again?"

"She's not a part of Golic's cult," I said. "I think she might be safe."

"I saw a couple men," she replied, ignoring Moe. "But you can take them if you pop out with your guns blazing."

"Still," I said. "We'd basically be going down one at a time. They could just send in a bunch of soldiers and pick us off like ducks in a shooting gallery."

I scowled at Golic, disapproval clear on my face. "We're going to `commune' with your god, but we're not doing it like this."

I marched up the ramp. "C'mon, guys. We're leaving."

I led my team back to the sliding door.

Golic pushed a button hidden beneath his desk, making the door close again, but Charon backhanded him and opened it back up, waving me on.

"Hurry up and go," she barked. "I'll keep him busy."

When the man fought back, Simon hurled a vial at him, a vial which shattered and enveloped him in cloud of thick colored smoke. I was suddenly grateful for his earlier act of thievery at Morgan's place.

Tido rushed to the leader's aid, but Moe brought the man down with his rifle stock. He'd live, he just wouldn't wake up very happy.

"Stop them!" Golic shouted to the guards outside, but Julia growled something to these sentries as we marched past and they trembled, backing off.

We hurried past the horse and mermaid fountain, out to the main road.

Charon caught up to us quickly, covering our rear with a snub nose pistol. "You've got to get me out of this madhouse!"

"Mr. Golic's not a bad guy," Absolute said. "He probably could have brought us to Shasharmazorb right away."

I told him, "I thought about that, but it's too risky. I'm not going to send anyone ahead of me, because they might not come back, and no one's going to let me go down there alone, because I'm not sure anyone I leave behind will be enough to save me if I get trapped down there...but they'll try anyway."

I suddenly noticed Simon fiddling with a pilfered crossbow. "What are you doing with that?"

"It may prove useful to us later on," he said.

I checked the compass, marching in a northerly direction.

"Wait," Absolute said. "There's a weird _storm cellar_ around here. It doesn't dead end like you think it would. I snuck into it one time and got lost. It might be the back door to wherever that elevator takes you."

"And what if it isn't?" Ippi said. "What if we go back a few miles and just run into a dead end?"

"There's more room than we'd have in the elevator or in a staircase. We'd have room to maneuver."

"All right," said I. "That sounds promising. Where is this place?"

"It's next to the stone boat. I'll show you."

 _"The stone boat?"_ I repeated.

The boy only shrugged.

Hearing a theramin-like humming sound behind us, I turned around and saw a pair of Security Spheres rolling up the dirt road.

"Quick!" Absolute cried, pointing to a row of buildings. "Here! Before they catch up with us!"

We hurriedly dashed around the backs of the timber frame houses, through a cluster of buildings numbered 10 to 20. The illumination was dim and surreal as the main square, which seemed to indicate a lack of association with The Board, another deception.

The security spheres rumbled past the row of buildings, appearing to either be lacking the intelligence to notice our presence, or programmed not to bother us when The Board had us where they wanted us.

I hoped it was the former.

When I first saw the stone boat, I thought for sure I'd found a way off the island. The object had been cleverly sculpted and fitted with rigging, sails and other trappings to give the illusion of it being seaworthy. It even sat near an actual shore like it had merely run aground.

However, as you came closer, you could see the concrete and paving stones leading all the way into the main deck. No amount of digging would free it from _that_!

"It's a _symbol,_ " Zack said. "I bet they're trying to say that escape is a fantasy."

"It's over here," Absolute said, leading us to a trapdoor on the side of a nearby hill.

A pair of children guarded this door. They drew knives the moment we approached.

Moe raised his weapon, but Julia said, "No need for violence."

She barked something in Ss'sik'chtokiwij, and the children abandoned their post, allowing us full access to the storm cellar.

It had been locked, but Simon picked it open, and we stared down into its darkened interior.

At first glance, it looked like your average cellar, full of canned goods, wine bottles and garden tools.

But then I noticed the long tunnel leading further into darkness.

"I still don't like it," Ippi said. "It's too narrow. We could easily get stuck down here. All they'd have to do is starve us out and we'd be done for."

"Are you sure this will help us?" I asked Absolute.

"Dunno," he admitted. "But it wouldn't hurt to look. We could always post someone outside, just in case someone tries to trap us down here."

I pointed to Charon, Ippi, Sharad and Julia. "Keep a strong guard up top. Call the larva if you need to. Attack anyone who tries to force their way through."

"What about you?" Ippi asked.

"I've got my own help. I'll call you down if we run into something we can't handle."

"I'll keep a watch on you both," Lammy said. "Just in case."

"It has no eyes," Simon complained.

"Just because you don't see them doesn't mean I can't see."

I left Caitlyn in Pillow's company. She protested this at first, but I explained it was dangerous, and I wanted her to stay in the protected middle until we knew what we were up against.

"You're taking _Mark_ along, aren't you?"

I sighed. "Sorry, honey, but Mark can throw quills and stab things with spears in his arms. I love you, so I don't want you to get hurt. That's why I'm leaving you with Pillow, okay? When it's safe, I'll come back for you."

She grudgingly agreed.

We crept down the tunnel with our guns ahead of us, barrels whipping toward anything that made the slightest noise.

Simon loaded bolts into his crossbow, following our lead.

The passage opened up into a concrete corridor, a dam style tunnel that forked in two directions.

The side to the left narrowed into darkness. The right opened up and looked almost like a subway tunnel.

I checked the compass. I wasn't quite sure if it would work underground, but the needle pointed off to the right, so that's where we went.

We walked for what felt like a mile without seeing any change in the scenery.

A mile later, we spotted a tram, a red thing like a roller coaster on a set of tracks.

A man with a bizarre hairstyle and old fashioned Victorian clothes slouched on the front seat of this machine, reading something on an Iphone.

Without looking away from the screen, the man said, "About time you guys showed up!"

"Willie?"

And then I saw a familiar Ss'sik'chtokiwij pop up from the seat behind him, also bearing an Apple product.

"Boy, Looks like the gang's all here!" the creature said. "Everyone ready to meet the queen?"

Two more people, or rather _individuals_ that I thought were dead, now back alive once more. It seemed to be a recurring theme.

Willie stopped reading...whatever it was on his phone, pushing a button. "She's here, Golic. Tell me what to do."

He paused, listened for a moment, then gestured to the tram. "All right. Everybody on board. We'll leave as soon as Mr. Golic arrives."

"Wait," I said to Willie. "I thought that Security Sphere killed you!"

 _"It sure as hell felt like it,"_ the man said with a smug grin.

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij nodded. "Mostly I remember rolling and struggling a lot."

I stared at her. "Lacethanny?"

"It's Jen-Jen," the larva groaned. "I refused to be named after some dead kid and a guy with OCD."

"I see you're still bossing people around," I said.

"Oh, _I don't know_...I still have this annoying _sleepwalking thing..._ "

"But you're one of us now. You _know_ what it's like to be a prisoner."

"If you think you're going to persuade me into joining your little team, you don't know me very well. Even in... _this thing._.." She looked down at her body. "I hold secrets that make me a valuable asset to this company. I still retain rank and privilege. Don't think for a minute that I'm going to join you in...whatever ridiculous scheme you've got cooked up."

Willie glanced down the hallway. _"Where are your buddies?"_

 _"They'll be along,"_ I said.

A golf cart came humming up the tunnel behind me, bearing Golic, Tido, and a pair of buzz cut women. They got out by the tram.

Tido rubbed the swelling lump on the back of his head.

"Ready to go meet Granny?" Jen-Jen said.

"Why should I trust you? How do I know you're actually going to take me to Shasharmazorb?"

"Mr. Weyland needs you to communicate with our Lord," Golic said. "He wishes to gain some information that he says you have not been willing or able to provide."

"This smells like a trap," Moe said.

I narrowed my eyes. "We still have bigger numbers and firepower."

"You're right," Golic said. "In fact, as a show of good faith, I will even dismiss my guards."

He waved to them, ordering them to take the golf cart back in Ss'sik'chtokiwij.

"What if they kill you?" one of them protested.

"They won't do that. They need me to bring them to Shasharmazorb."

Moe and I exchanged nervous glances.

"This is sketchy," Moe said. "We're surrendering strategic advantage."

But what if they actually take us to Shasharmazorb?" I asked. "What if we find the ship nearby?"

"And what if we don't? What if they have goons waiting for us?"

"We let Golic lead us, but the moment we someone waving a gun, we shoot. No questions asked."

"And what if that person has a key?" said Jen-Jen. "Or security codes locked away in their head? You gonna shoot them too?"

"Don't worry," I said. _"We won't shoot you. Yet._ "

"Are there many such security protocols?" said Simon. "I _do so_ love a challenge!"

Jen-Jen tapped the screen of her phone with one claw. "Purple Rooster, tell your men to holster their weapons. Perimeter standby only."

She then used the phone to play Bubble Witch.

"All right," I sighed. "It looks like we're going to give this a go."

I returned to the cellar, summoning the others to where the rest of the team waited.

"See?" I said to my daughter. "I didn't abandon you."

Caitlyn frowned. "I saw the green man again."

I glanced up the stairs. "Is he still there?"

Caitlyn shook her head. "I don't know where he went."

"We should go too."

With only six cars, it was an incredibly tight squeeze.

Willie and Golic occupied the front seat, with Jen-Jen squished in the middle. As a larva, she didn't take up as much space as she used to.

Moe and I sat in the second row, Moe with his weapon ever pointed at the suspicious individuals in the control car. "Pull anything funny," Moe had said, "And I'm blowing someone's head off."

I imagined such a thing would be difficult with Caitlyn on his lap, but it made me feel safer. I myself held Mark, Absolute wedged between us.

Tido wanted to sit behind his leader, but I wanted some degree of control over the situation, so I insisted on a car behind them, and to make sure no back stabbing occurred, that he and Charon sit in the car behind Pillow, in front of Ippi. Their car was second to last, behind the deadly Ss'sik'chtokiwij.

Pillow sat in Car 3, Pillow with Quana, Camille with Haman, Bo Peep at center.

Behind them, Sharad kept watch on Nate, and all the Ss'sik'chtokiwij squeezed together around them on the seats and floorboards. Hosea sat on the opposite end.

Ippi, left with only one car with an open seat, reluctantly scooted in next to Simon with the cutting remark, "Move your big fat ass."

Mark huddled close to me as the tram took off.

It was a long ride. With Camille and the other lollygaggers, it would have taken us forever to walk all that way, but the tram sped us along in a matter of minutes. The tram, being built rather solidly, did not jostle us that much, so no one fell out.

Camille and the Abreyas quietly stared at the blank stretches of concrete wall rushing by. Bo Peep, Absolute and Guessica kept their guns out.

Golic hummed something and uttered prayers.

In the back, I could hear Ippi shouting at the magicians, "Scoot over!"

To which Zack replied, "I'm already all the way over! If I go any further, I'll fall out!"

"Fall out, then!"

Then she complained about Simon's bulk.

"I beg your pardon!" the man protested, launching into an argument about how the female wasn't exactly small, and her tail kept going places it shouldn't. "I'll mash it with my shoe the next time I see it out!"

"You do that and I'll break your arm!"

And so forth.

"Children!" Moe barked back to them. "Cut that out right now or we're turning this thing back around, and we won't go anywhere!"

That made them chuckle, and quieted them for a bit, but then they got to arguing again.

More than one argument arose from the crossbow poking her and filling up space. Ippi threatened to throw it out of the tram before they discovered an overhanging lip on the side of the car from which to securely hang it.

We all got to the end of the track in one piece. Even the Ss'sik'chtokiwij, who at times stuck their heads out the sides of the vehicle like dogs, remained on firm footing in their compartment.

The tram tracks ended in a gray concrete cube. Tunnels forked off in three directions, but only one of them wasn't blocked off by soldiers.

Although these men held no weapons in their hands, I could see the assault rifles slung over their shoulders, the pistols stuck in holsters. Intimidating, but not enough to merit us shooting any of them. They stood with their hands behind their backs, legs spread slightly apart, `at-ease.'

With at least one person watching every soldier at all times, we all got out, following Golic up the open hallway.

We found more soldiers as we moved along, but they kept to the side, remained unarmed, and didn't make any sudden moves. We watched them too.

"We should start shooting these guys," Ippi said. "You know, make sure we have an exit clean at all times."

"How would filling a hallway with blood leave an exit clean?" Hosea asked.

"Good point," I said.

Moe glanced back. "I'm not sure it will help anyway. There's more guys coming up the tunnel."

Ippi snapped her tail. "Fuck."

Half a mile down, the tunnel began to look familiar. Not too surprising, since moving a beast that big and deadly could be impractical, _and_ hazardous to your health.

I felt familiar enough with the area that, when the corridor branched, I turned down a connecting passageway before realizing that only half the team was following me, and a group of soldiers stood in my path.

"Mommy," Mark said. "It's the other way."

Julia nodded in agreement. "I was not taken through here."

I frowned. "So they _did_ move her."

"I do not understand what you mean."

"Never mind."

"Shasharmazorb is this way, O Holy Priestess," Golic said behind me.

I reddened. "So I'm a _priestess_ now?"

"You have always been a priestess of Our Lord Shasharmazorb. Forgive me for neglecting to mention your official title until now. I did not fully recognize your divinity until I saw the arm."

I rolled my eyes. "Lead the way."

And so we walked past the place I thought we'd be going to, approaching a steel security door several yards down, an entrance guarded by four soldiers.

Golic rapped on the door a few times, and a copy of me opened it up, accompanied by Kamara's parents.

Kamara's father, Angel, was a tall well built bald man with chocolate skin and the square jaw and chiseled features that made a man photogenic. His wife was narrow sylph of a brunette with a stern angular face. Both wore red jumpsuits I'd never seen them clad in before that day.

The woman regarded me sourly as she puffed on a cigarette. Neither one of them seemed happy to see me. No shocker there.

A bunker-like concrete chamber lay beyond this door, one containing vending machines, a sink, a bench, a computer station, and a life size plastic statue of Hipster Jesus.

Careful to keep our weapons out, I instructed Ippi, Sharad and the Ss'sik'chtokiwij to guard the door and keep it open as Moe, Mark and I stepped in to assess the situation.

We found ourselves in a rather unfortunate predicament.

Our friends were being held hostage.

At the far end of the room, I saw Estalix the Yaotija with his hands secured behind his back by means of metal cuffs. A square jawed blonde man in a gray suit held a gun to the alien's skull with one hand, his other hand firmly clamped around Estalix's neck.

The stranger's muscles looked strong enough to kill him with both hands. His ice blue eyes said he could do it.

A metal mask had been fitted over the Yaotija's face, one that blocked his mouth but let the mandibles around it to wiggle around uselessly. His Ss'sik'chtokiwij comrade had been fitted similarly, preventing them from communicating with us.

Ssunamrozedrah, Ernie's niece, had been chained to the wall next to him, held captive by what appeared to be an identical twin of the man in gray.

They also held Luke in a steel cage. Upon entering the room, my duplicate marched up to him, drawing her own weapon, a samurai sword.

Willie nonchalantly grabbed a Coke from one of the machines as if nothing important were happening. I glared at him, but he remained indifferent, cracking the top and drinking like we weren't there.

"I'd put down those guns if I were you," Mrs. Porter said to me. On the floor, if you please."

Simon laid down his crossbow. _"I'd do what she says._ "

"Bullshit," Ippi said, rushing to join me and Moe. "There's more of us than there are of you, and we've got more guns and creatures. We'll put all four of you in the ground the moment you even try to kill one of ours."

Simon coughed. " _I am afraid you are mistaken._ Your guns and knives, if you please."

"What!" I cried.

"That son of a bitch!" Ippi yelled. "He's double crossed us!"

She pulled out her pistol, aimed at him and fired.

Instead of seeing a bullet coming out, a burst of colored smoke erupted from the muzzle, enveloping the magician in a purple cloud.

When the smoke cleared, the man was gone.

"You can shove that business proposal up your ass!" Charon screamed at the ceiling. "You hear me! Take your Blackstone magic wand and go fuck yourself!"

Simon didn't answer.

"As you can see," Mrs. Porter said. "Your bullets have been confiscated. _Mr. Wodehouse has been nice enough to deposit them with the guards outside this room._ "

"Not mine," Moe said. "I checked it while we were on the tram."

The kids put down their weapons, but Ippi yelled, "Don't! She's bullshitting you!"

They picked the guns back up.

 _"David..._ " Mr. Porter said to the man in gray.

The square faced blonde nodded, pulling back the hammer of his gun. "This creature is the captain of your spaceship, is he not?"

"Sort of," I stammered.

"The spaceship has been modified with components from his craft. You will not be able to use the vehicle without his assistance. If you want him to remain alive, I suggest you put down your weapons immediately."

"Do not be afraid," Golic said. "Shasharmazorb will not allow her offspring to die. If Shasharmazorb wills it, the others shall live as well."

Ippi clenched her fists, addressing the man in gray. "You're full of shit. You wouldn't know a Quidzy Rudsama from a hole in the ground."

"We used your captain as an engineering adviser," David said. "It is unlikely that you will achieve liftoff without his assistance."

"So we wreck into a tree. We're not going to surrender to five people because of a few hostages."

With an indifferent shrug, David pulled the trigger, blowing a hole through his hostage's brain.

 _"Woxna!"_ Ippi shrieked.

"Do not fear," said Golic. "Shasharmazorb has passed judgment on that distant brother, but no harm shall come to any other, as long as you cooperate, I believe."

"See?" said Angel. " _A voice of reason!_ "

 _"David!_ " Pillow growled. "You disgrace my husband's name!"

David didn't acknowledge this with an answer.

"A demonstration," said Mrs. Porter. "You are all expendable. You _will_ do what we say, or more of your friends will die."

Ippi snatched the assault rifle out of Moe's hands, filling the woman full of bullets.

When her husband rushed to her side, Ippi slapped in a fresh clip, which she had swiped from Moe's pocket, aiming it at the man's head. "You're not in charge here. _We are._ "

That's when Tido stabbed her through the stomach with his knife. "Iyya Shasharmazorb! Iyya Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik!"


	61. Chapter 61: Gangplank

Tido had just stabbed one of my close alien friends in the stomach.

"Ippi! No!" Zack shouted, drawing a pistol.

He shot Tido twice in the back, then ran to grab the wounded Abreya. "Ippi! Speak to me!"

Ippi coughed up blood.

Zack threw down a smoke bomb, causing himself and the female to vanish in an opaque multicolored fog.

Pillow and Camille got out of the way, clutching the babies to make sure they didn't get hurt. They whimpered and yowled.

I ordered my daughter to join them.

"I can defend myself," she protested. "I can fight."

"I don't want you to," I said.

With visible reluctance, she obeyed.

Ernie's niece struggled against her bonds, but was unable to provide any assistance, her `gag' preventing even verbal communication.

"I would be careful about your next move," David said. "Understand that I have no emotional attachment to any of these species. They are merely tools."

"The same goes for you, buddy," Moe said, whipping out a pistol.

The moment my friend charged at David, firing off rounds, the man raised his victim's body, letting the corpse take the brunt of the assault.

Moe didn't let this stop him. Instead he played leapfrog halfway over the dead alien, firing shot after shot through David's face and forehead.

Instead of blood, a spray of white coolant splattered all over the wall.

Mark leapt on the felled android body, puncturing it all over to make sure he didn't get up again.

"Motherfucking androids," Moe muttered, turning his gun toward the other one.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you!" my duplicate said.

She had her samurai sword poised over Luke's cage.

The boy looked more vulnerable now than he had previously at the park. More human. Less alien.

He looked like nothing more than a scared little kid, alone, helpless. I saw tears rolling down his cheeks.

A slot in its roof would make it easy for the clone to shove the blade right through the opening _and_ Sil's baby.

"We've been injecting him with hormones," said Ellie 2. "His outer shell has become soft. Killing him would be a _breeze._ "

In response, Moe shot _her_.

He ran out of bullets after the first shot.

My clone, being just as tough as I, did not collapse. It only served to piss her off.

With an angry shriek, she shoved the sword through the cage, impaling the helpless boy with the point of the blade.

Luke screamed and lay still as blood gushed out of his small body.

"You bitch!" I yelled, pointing the Yaotija blaster at her head.

When I squeezed the trigger, nothing happened.

"You have disobeyed our Lord Shasharmazorb!" Golic cried. "If you had but cooperated with the organization, this tragic loss would not have occurred! Repent now in sackcloth and ashes! The rulers Shasharmazorb have appointed do not bear the sword in vain! Give in now, while Shasharmazorb still holds mercy in her heart for you! "

The other Ellie gave me an evil smile. _"You should listen to him._ "

The next moment, she was jumping over the cage, to attack me.

Moe got there first, clubbing her over the head with the stock of his rifle.

Ellie 2 crashed to the ground, but then David's clone shot Moe in the shoulder, causing my friend to duck out of the way and back off.

"Stop fighting!" Jen-Jen cried. "Ripley! Ellie! Whatever the fuck you call yourself! Tell your goons to give in! You're not going to win!"

"Can you take care of that nuisance?" I called to Lammy.

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij nodded, growling orders to her kin.

I heard a chorus of clicking sounds, then everyone in my team was throwing down their guns in disgust. Simon had stolen all the ammo.

I saw Hosea sneaking up behind the other David, to attack him, but the man knocked her to the floor with one brutal snap of his pistol butt. The action reminded me of a person calmly swatting a fly.

"Are we quite finished?" the man asked in a smug tone.

Since he had been standing next to the cage as he said this, Guessica answered him by throwing a knife through his skull.

Absolute followed it up with a few bolts from the crossbow.

Both shots missed, but it kept David busy long enough for Moe to swipe the weapon from the other android, finishing the job.

The other David bled coolant too.

Amos ripped the other droid to pieces.

Behind me, I could hear Jen-Jen scuffling with the other Ss'sik'chtokiwij. They sounded like dogs tearing and clawing at each other, but I didn't have the luxury of turning around to look at what was going on. One of the guards had just rushed in, unholstering his weapon.

Sharad pounced on him before he could fire off a shot, and when the man eventually squeezed the trigger, the bullets only hit the ceiling showered us with powdered concrete.

As strategically unwise as it was for us to do so, I called the rest of my team into the room, ordering them to secure the door. After all, we no longer had any bullets.

As the Ss'sik'chtokiwij continued to fight Jen-Jen, Hipster Jesus clattered noisily to the floor, its hard hollow plastic sounding like a wiffle bat dropped onto pavement from the roof or a parking garage.

"That's it!" Mr. Porter yelled. "First you bastards kill my _daughter_ , then you kill my motherfucking _wife_! I'm done playing around with this shit!"

I glanced back and saw him holding a knife to Guessica's throat. "You do what I say, cocksuckers, or this little white bitch gets what's coming to her!"

Blood trickled from the girl's outer skin as the blade bit down.

Moe pointed his pistol at Mr. Porter. "You brought a knife to a gunfight. Let her go."

But then Ellie 2 sprang up from the floor, whacking him across the head with the discarded assault rifle.

In a flash, she snatched his gun out of his hands, stomping him on the chest, muzzle pressed to his forehead. "No sudden movements. Anyone."

Willie calmly walked behind Absolute, poking a gun into his back. Another betrayal.

Even Charon had changed sides once again. She held Bo Peep at knife point.

"Oh thank God!" Jen-Jen sighed. "It's about time someone took control of the situation!"

 _"Yeah!"_ Ellie 2 sneered at her. " _No thanks to you!_ "

"So you took over a Ss'sik'chtokiwij body," I said. "And it's not fighting back at all? Even when you fight against family?"

"What can I say?" Jen-Jen said in a matter-of-fact tone. "I don't take _anything_ lying down."

And then I saw Golic holding a knife to my daughter. "Your command, O Most Worshipful?"

Jen-Jen just smiled.

She crossed her skeletal arms, turning to face me. " _Your weapons, please._ "

Bo Peep suddenly collapsed with a bloody wound in her chest. We all stared at the woman that had been holding her hostage.

"What?" Charon said, sounding indifferent. " _She moved!_ "

And then she went about collecting our weapons. None of us dared to do anything, because the slightest act could result in another death.

"I'm sorry," Charon said as she confiscated mine. "I guess I _really don't_ deserve to go home."

 _"I trusted you,"_ I said to the woman. _"I thought you'd changed._ "

She smirked. "You ever hear that parable about how the old lady nurses the snake back to health and it still bites her?"

I just glared.

Suddenly hearing a low hum, I glanced at a wall behind Mr. Porter, and noticed a big LCD monitor descending from a slot in the ceiling.

The screen displayed the DAMBALLAH logo, but once it had fully extended, it got replaced by the image of Mr. Weyland behind a desk.

I think he had some sort of cameras set up in that chamber, for he appeared to look right at me as he said, "Good. I have your undivided attention."

"What's this about?" I said.

"I was hoping this could have been accomplished without so much bloodshed, but it appears to have been unavoidable."

He sighed. "I don't need to explain why I am not present in the room with you. The dead bodies on the floor spell it out quite clearly. I'm already dying, I don't need anyone to rush the process along.

"What I _do_ want to explain is what exactly you are doing here, and _why_ I brought you here to begin with."

 _"I can already guess,"_ Moe said, in spite of the gun pressed against his forehead. _"You brought us here to die."_

"Damn straight!" Angel said. "And you're next, motherfucker." He waved a go-ahead to my clone. "Pulverize that son of a bitch!"

Weyland raised a staying hand. "No more killing! I want to _talk!_ "

Mr. Porter swore under his breath.

I crossed my arms impatiently, allowing the man to speak.

"I have already learned from the newly discovered recording that a fungus present at the mining colony on Thedus has curative powers. I also know that you have no idea where said fungus can be located, more's the pity.

"Still, I am reluctant to destroy you at present. In addition to your use as a military asset, you also may be able to make use of your peculiar talents to _extract_ the data I need from the xenomorph queen."

"Is he talking about Shasharmazorb?" Jeremy asked me.

Looking delighted, Golic replied, _"He speaks of none other!"_

Ssunamrozedrah growled something through her gag, but I couldn't tell what it meant.

The others in my team either didn't understand, or didn't seem to think anything wrong with the idea. Only Pillow looked a bit worried.

"She may have encountered foreign planetary data that may aid us in accessing new technologies. She may know of hidden locations on LV 426 untouched by the blast, something we can use to locate the fungus or biological weapons. There have been rumors of a xenomorph that can impregnate by means of an aerosol. We may even locate one of the creature's elusive _vehicles._ "

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij murmured in confusion at this, wondering aloud why he thought they knew anything about spaceships. I wasn't sure if Weyland were better off not knowing what they said, or if the information would get him off my case, but I didn't share it with him anyway.

"We still have not located the original craft containing the eggs that impregnated the crew of the Nostromo. That craft could contain the key to everything that we seek."

"She can't even read," I said. "Why do you think she knows anything?"

"If you could travel into the brain of an _ape_ that just happened to wander into the innermost regions of the _Pentagon, read its mind_ , there _just has to be a_ _chance_ of it absorbing some kind of critical top secret information. All it needs is an interpreter."

"Or, it could be nothing more than a continuous stream of meaningless images and sound," Pillow argued. "Who's to say Shasharmazorb isn't dyslexic? _We only remember what we read, and what people say to us because we understand the strings of syllables._ "

"A great deal of intelligence used to be spent deciphering code broadcasted over shortwave, spotty radio transmissions that often broke apart at crucial moments. _That thing_ in the other room is our radio receiver. It's _our job_ to crack the code.

"My proposal is simple. You join minds with that creature, report your findings, or your friends will die.

"We also would like her to lay more eggs. Her last batch... _didn't turn out so well_. They came out dead."

My Ss'sik'chtokiwij companions spoke to each other in alarm, worried for their relative's health.

"She's been reluctant to make more. We're hoping you can change her mind."

The door to the room swung open on its own.

"Soldiers are stationed outside. They will guide you to the appropriate area. Be forewarned, they have been granted the use of deadly force. I do not recommend any reckless actions."

I didn't see much of any option aside from doing what Weyland told me.

My team was not in good shape.

Zack and Ippi were gone, Luke, Estalix and Bo Peep were dead, Tido, Charon and Simon betrayed us.

Ssunamrozedrah was still chained to the wall, my twin still held Moe at gunpoint, Mr. Porter had Guessica, Willie and Golic holding my daughter and Absolute.

Camille and Pillow had their hands full with the babies, more of a liability than an asset.

In fact, Charon, no longer busy with Bo Peep, took advantage of this weakness by snatching Quana out of Pillow's hands, holding the child in a way that carried an implicit threat. Not only would Pillow not try anything, _we_ wouldn't try anything, for fear of what would happen to both of them.

Sharad, likewise, had her arms and tail full protecting Nathan.

That left Mark and the Ss'sik'chtokiwij. Sure, we could win with just them, but at what cost?

And so I obeyed the man, marching out into the hallway.

Mark and the Ss'sik'chtokiwij accompanied me, but it felt like a symbolic gesture more than anything. I had Jen-Jen leading me from the front, and Golic trailing behind me, with my daughter.

"Remember, no reckless actions," Weyland had warned as I was leaving. " _Even out there._ I have _cameras_. Make a _mistake_ out there, and someone dies in here.

We turned down that hallway I'd been forbidden to enter previously.

Mr. Sloan stood outside the door I recognized as the entrance to Shasharmazorb's cell. The man's head had been bandaged where I had struck him, he had burn scars running up one of his arms, but otherwise looked okay.

Without a word, he placed his thumb on a print scanner, punched in a code and unlocked the door. I stepped in.

The chamber had been remodeled slightly from its original version. A protective cage had been built around the door with an additional security door inside. This door opened automatically the moment I approached, the door behind me closing tightly for safety.

A gust of Shasharmazorb's breath greeted me the moment I crossed the threshold. I kinda thought that maybe Shasharmazorb should start using toothpaste and mint flavored gum.

I found Shasharmazorb's massive dark body no less intimidating from an adult point of view than I had as an adolescent. She could still easily kill me, if she so chose.

Still, she was technically my blood relative...and I loved her.

"She's here, mother," Jen-Jen said to her.

In response, Shasharmazorb let out a roar, backhanding the larva so hard that she flew across the room and hit a wall.

I thought for sure Weyland would kill someone for this act of disrespect, but the deed went unpunished. Either someone on The Board didn't like her, or they didn't hold the Ss'sik'chtokiwij queen at all accountable for her actions.

I gave my biological mother a nervous wave and an uneasy smile. "Hi...uh... _mind if I pick your brain_?"

The lighting wasn't very good in that room. The flickering fluorescents told me that light fixtures existed, they just hadn't been serviced. You can understand why people weren't exactly lining up for the job.

Still, someone had removed all the eggs.

I'd grown, but the female still towered over me.

Steaming drool oozed out of Shasharmazorb's open mouth as I stared at her. She self consciously wiped it away with one claw.

She sniffed. "You smell like that small one that taught me how to read."

 _"I got bigger,"_ I said. "I'm really sorry I didn't have time to teach you better. I was trying to find Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik."

Shasharmazorb sat back on her haunches, picking up a copy of _Treasure Island_. "Pillow and Jen-Jen have taught me some."

She turned her big head toward the unconscious larva sprawled on the floor next to the wall. "That one is disrespectful, though. Always ordering me around! `Tell me this and I'll read to you.' `Do this and I'll help you!' Always asking me for something! And she is stingy with what she does teach! They only use it to get what they want!"

She leaned closer to me, lowering her voice. "She comes to me in the late hours, and she is a different Ss'sik'chtokiwij! I do not understand it, but she is loving then. She treats her elders with respect!" Shasharmazorb let out a heavy sigh. "But then she suddenly changes and asks me what she's doing in my room! I tell you, she has a _xulrubdan_! Disease! Do you blame me for not wanting to join minds with that?"

"Not at all!" I said.

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij nuzzled against their ancestor's large body. She smiled and rubbed their heads.

Mark stared at her, I guess wondering if she should greet her similarly. He glanced at me for guidance.

I shrugged, my face telegraphing no.

He frowned and kept his distance.

"Your arms do not match," Shasharmazorb said to me.

I nodded. "I know."

"It looks like a Ss'sik'chtokiwij's."

"There's a good reason for that."

With my heart pounding, I walked up close to her and gave her a hug.

"What is that?" she asked. "Why do you do this?"

"You're technically my mom," I said.

Shasharmazorb shuddered. "I would never give birth to a thing like you! Are you also xulrubdan?"

Framing it in terms she could understand, I said, "Some... _humans...took something from your body and put it into a human._ " I raised a claw to illustrate.

Shasharmazorb recoiled from me, horrified at the thought. "You have no right to call me mother! You're...you're...you are _a thing that is not an egg!_ " Clearly, vocabulary wasn't her strength.

Despite being poorly phrased, the rejection was heartbreaking. My dream fantasy had just shattered, leaving me with pain.

"Didn't David teach you about the family of God? We're brothers and sisters in Jesus, right?"

Shasharmazorb took a deep breath, puffing air through her pores. "I...have once heard of something like that."

"Can't we at least be _friends?_ I mean, we came all this way, we risked death for you..."

"She speaks the truth," said Julia. "She may appear human, but she is a Ss'sik'chtokiwij at heart. The gesture she just performed with you is what humans consider a sign of great familiarity and respect."

Shasharmazorb grabbed me with such sudden force and violence that I thought she intended to crush me to death. I could have sworn I heard my ribs cracking.

It turned out it was only a bear hug.

Shasharmazorb let go, leaving me gasping for air.

She pointed a claw at Mark. "What is _that?_ "

"He's my son," I said. "I adopted him. You understand adoption, right?"

She nodded. "David told me." But she still frowned at him.

"Is she...my grandma, mommy?" Mark asked.

"I don't know," I stammered. "Only if she thinks so."

Shasharmazorb rubbed his head, giving him a nice purr.

She held up the book, showing it to me. "Are you going to read this to me now?"

I sighed. "I want to, but this isn't a social visit."

Shasharmazorb stared at the floor. "Then you are no different than the rest."

"It's not like that, mom, I mean, _Shasharmazorb_. I'm being forced to do something I don't want to do. Can't you understand that?"

A circular panel on the wall slid open, revealing a view of the room with all the hostages. "See that? There's threatening to kill Pillow, Ssunamrozedrah and a lot of others if I don't join minds with you."

Shasharmazorb growled angrily, clenching her claws.

"I don't like this any more than you." I glanced uncomfortably at the scene behind the circular glass window along the right wall.

They still held my friends hostage.

Nobody had moved. The threat was as certain as ever. Even if Shasharmazorb could break the glass (which I doubted - she would have done so already) nothing could be done from where we stood.

"You have my great grand daughters with you. Why don't you just kill those people?"

"I really want to," I said. "But I can't. Even if we killed one or two of them, the others would kill someone we care about."

Shasharmazorb turned around and roared at the window.

She then raised a claw that way, defiantly extending the middle digit.

"Show me your hidden tongue," I told her. "It's the only way."

Shasharmazorb glowered at me, making sounds like a mad gorilla about to charge.

"We can talk mind to mind," I suggested. "I can tell you things I can't say out loud. It will be good for both of us. Trust me."

Shasharmazorb looked left, then right.

She distended her jaw, leaned forward, making gagging sounds.

For a moment, I thought she would vomit on me, but then a cluster of worms came squirming out, entering my nostrils, introducing themselves to the gray matter inside my skull.

My vision swam with stars and warped psychedelic landscapes in shades of red.

The red faded, and solid images formed with crystal clarity.

I stood naked on the deck of a pirate ship rocking unevenly on ocean waves. Before me stood an adult Ss'sik'chtokiwij, clad in a red pirate's trenchcoat and a flamboyant feathered hat.

I smiled as I looked at her.

My own body fluctuated at random, reflecting a lack of definite self image, something of which I was painfully aware. I would be human one moment, larva the next, facehugger the moment following, then a micro queen, then an adult. Sometimes I would even mirror Shasharmazorb, but then she'd growl in annoyance, I'd grow afraid and turn invisible.

"Why do you keep doing that?" she said. "Why can't you stay one thing and remain that way, like me?"

Then, of course, I'd become her, get scared at her growling, and turn human. 'I can't help it! I don't know who I am!"

In our minds, I could hide nothing. She could therefore sense I told the truth.

Shasharmazorb hugged me. "Do not be afraid of me. If you need me to provide your self image, I will not judge you."

She shook her head. " _Those blasted humans..._ "

I mirrored her, and we strolled the deck. I heard the theme song to _Gilligan's Island_ playing in the background. I pretended to ignore it.

As we walked, every part of the vessel, from fore to aft, populated with floating labels, like ID tags in some multi-user online video game. "Starboard," "mast," "fo'e castle," "crow's nest," "poop deck," anything and everything that Shasharmazorb chose to look at. If I happened to know a definition of a word, it was there, and if I didn't, she found wordy approximations of a word that conveyed the concept, such as, "That giant spool thingy they use to tie the mast ropes down with in all those pirate movies."

A man sized sparrow, dressed like the hero of the _Pirates of the Caribbean_ films stood on the bridge, chirping at us. I told her without words that the pun was accurate.

Dolphins and whales jumped in and out of the water. Shasharmazorb flinched, then clapped her claws in amusement.

A chicken flapped down on a bulwark, breaking into song. "Strike up the band for Popeye the sailor! Cash in his hand, straight off the whaler..."

Shasharmazorb tore a wing off its body, and the wing morphed into a golden brown crispy fried piece of food. I giggled.

She was easily distracted. I could feel the desperate loneliness, the desire for contact of any kind, the joy of being with someone who `got her.' The emotions were overpowering, but I had to get this train of thought back on course, and fast.

When we climbed below decks, into the captain's quarters, I unrolled a giant color photograph of the room with the hostages, using the metaphor to play a memory of what had just happened to me a few minutes ago.

Shasharmazorb screamed and smashed a tankard of ale with her claw.

She trembled, roaring with unrestrained fury.

I put a hand on her shoulder plate. "I know. I feel the same way."

I drew a diagram of the individuals and positions, and their relationship to me. Each figure glowed with emotion.

I conveyed hopelessness, showed her the list of Weyland's demands again.

She slumped in the captain's chair, thinking about it.

The weather out the porthole turned dark and stormy. I recognized stock footage from the opening of _Gilligan_.

 _Getting rough,_ I thought, a little annoyed.

I'd seen a smashed up television monitor on the floor of her room. They must have just switched it on and let it run 24-7.

A blank sheet of paper on the captain's desk filled up with line after line of the same sentence: "We can't let them win. We can't let them win."

And then we were in Weyland's observation chamber with the hipster Jesus statue, testing out battle scenarios, killing this or that person.

No matter who we killed, someone always died. Shasharmazorb roared in frustration. "What do we do? What do we do?" she kept thinking.

We came to the conclusion that no matter what we did, we'd have to give Weyland what he wanted. At least initially.

Shasharmazorb read the memory of Weyland's demands. "What the hell is he talking about?" she asked. "He's insane! I know nothing about any of this!"

"We need to at least try," I said. "We need to give him _something._ "

I gave her an image of a mean bulldog about to bite a little girl, then the child distracting it with a piece of bacon, then the child licking the girl's hand.

Shasharmazorb made a larva burst from the dog's stomach.

Yes, I thought, but then threw up yellow `Slow' and `Caution' street signs, explaining them with corresponding images of a vehicle obeying them, and rocks falling on a car that didn't, knocking it off the side of a mountain.

Shasharmazorb slowed her breathing down, repeating my image of the licking bulldog.

"How?" she asked.

I conjured up the image of Sigmund Freud in his office, with Shasharmazorb lying on his couch. "I want you to go back to your childhood," he said in a thick German accent. "Think back as far as you can, and tell me of your earliest memory."

In a flash, we were in womb-like darkness.

I saw flashes of memory implants, things _her mother_ had given to the socmavaj that she'd birthed, a story of the first Ss'sik'chtokiwij being birthed out of men that grew out of the ground for Ss'sik'chtokiwij personal use, a creator Ss'sik'chtokiwij that laid planets and moved on to make others...interesting, but not what we needed.

Darkness returned.

All around me, I heard thunderous pounding. Budump budump budump!

It was the sound of a dying man panicking because of the thing growing inside him.

The pounding grew heavier the more Shasharmazorb moved around, desperately clawing her way to the surface through the victim's soft tissue. Screaming vibrated through our bodies.

I began to see light as she neared the rib cage.

Shasharmazorb rammed and clawed against the rib bones, and then light burst into view, filtered through a red cloth mesh, a bloody shirt that Shasharmazorb drove her teeth through...and then she emerged into the world, surrounded by terrified human faces.

The woman with my face, and the people from the pictures I'd seen during Musical Electric Chairs. They were all present at Shasharmazorb's birth.

They tried to capture her, maybe kill her, so she jumped off the medical examination table and ran into the depths of the ship, where she hid for several days, killing people whenever hunger struck her.

I skipped past a lot of this, as it told me nothing of use, and we hadn't the time.

In the memory, she grew bigger and bigger, more people died, then the woman with my face sang `Be My Lucky Star' and shot Shasharmazorb into space.

Not so useful.

We skipped ahead, and she was hitching a ride on an alien ship, a weird black thing shaped like a horseshoe.

Now here's something we can use, I thought as I watched her wandering around.

The craft flickered to and from different states of integrity, sometimes whole and intact, at other times exploding, on fire, or shattered and wrecked across a lunar landscape.

I saw the room where they held scores of strange black drums full of goop and giant killer worms, their weapon rooms, their sleeping quarters, a bridge, and the cryogenic sleeper pods which she used as her own little meat locker.

I saw holograms of the big aliens running through tunnels, the big carvings of giant faces, the ceiling murals. Awe inspiring.

I circled the drums with my highlighter too, indicating the glass bottles full of disgusting microbes inside them.

Shasharmazorb had, in fact, played with the aliens' computers, managing to activate a holographic map of space before accidentally wrecking the thing. I imagined the memory of the map as a file and `downloaded it' into my own personal `hard drive.'

I `saved' a map of the vehicle, identifying all the rooms and what I conjectured they were for, then we moved on to her explorations of LV 426.

She entered a cave, nibbled on fungus, I guess, to supplement her diet, but it had no apparent curative properties.

In fact, she remembered a dead child lying near one of those growths. She refused to touch him. This stuck out in her mind so much because she had been hungry at the time and she'd been forced to let him rot. The smell got so bad that she dumped him in front of the colony for the humans to dispose of.

The boy had an ID tag. I saved it in my memory.

She showed me a memory of crossing the planet, returning to the site of her conception. The big aliens must have lived somewhere nearby, I figured. Why else would there be two crashed horseshoe shaped ships on the same lifeless rock?

At last! I thought, showing Shasharmazorb a picture of a happy dog with a steak.

We drew a map together, triangulating the location based on landmarks we saw, saving the file in duplicate.

I telegraphed the image of us waking up, but Shasharmazorb told me to wait. I could see a light bulb hovering over her dome.

Suddenly, we were back in the chamber, in real life, standing before each other in our actual physical forms.

Not really.

We weren't awake yet. The walls throbbed and pulsated like a heart, changing a rainbow of colors.

Without a word, she opened the rib cage of her exoskeleton, allowing a glowing larva to come flying out.

Her body collapsed on the floor.

"Shasharmazorb!" I cried. "What did you do!"

As if in response, the ball flew into my open mouth.

And then it was like someone was inside me, trying out my skin.

Against my will, my hands moved to my chest, tearing open my own rib cage at the sternum, and an unseen force ejected my consciousness from the opening.

I floated, disembodied, above my body.

My own body pointed to the Ss'sik'chtokiwij shell on the floor.

Oh.

With effortless ease, I flew over to the unmoving queen body, leaping through the open rib cage.

The moment I closed up the exoskeleton, everything changed.

I was huge.

I was dark and glistening.

I wasn't me.

But yet, I was totally awake. Everything was real and pressing on the senses.

Retracting the mouth worms back into my new Ss'sik'chtokiwij form, I said, "Oh my God! Is this really happening?"

The eyes of my newly vacated human body widened in shock. "I think I just urinated on myself."

She touched her breasts, the ones that used to be mine.

"Don't," I said. "You'll go blind."

She quickly put her hands to her sides. "Then why do you have them?"

"It's not important," I said. "I can explain it to you later."

I stood up and immediately hit my head on the ceiling.

"I hate this place," Shasharmazorb said. "It's so cramped."

"And gloomy," I said, rubbing my dome with one claw.

My voice sounded funny.

My vision looked funny.

Everything, in fact, was funny, but I wasn't laughing.

"What did you learn, mommy?" Mark asked my other body.

"It's complicated," I said before realizing I'd just made a communication error.

 _"Complicated,"_ Shasharmazorb agreed.

I decided that it wasn't a good idea to tell him who I was at the moment. My human form needed him more than my current one did.

Mark climbed up on her back.

Shasharmazorb, who wasn't used to that kind of thing, immediately threw him down, making him cry.

"Why did you do that, mommy?" he whimpered.

Shasharmazorb stared at me, her face indicating a need for guidance on the subject.

I answered with a gesture that said, "Do what you're supposed to."

"She's just worried, sweetie," I explained. "She didn't want to hurt you."

Shasharmazorb nodded. _"Worried._ "

With a sigh, she hugged the boy, muttered apologies, and lifted him on her back.

During my time of brain sharing, the others had busied themselves with whatever happened to be available in the cell.

I found Lammy and Amos boring their way into a half eaten cattle carcass. Julia was thumbing through a copy of _The Perfumed Garden_. I really don't know why Shasharmazorb had that book, it just happened to be on top of Chris Van Allsburg's _Garden of Abdul Gasazi_.

Jeremy and Mark, though, had been patiently at my side the whole time, watching and waiting for us to wake up.

"You know what to do, right?" I asked my other body.

She nodded. "I kept seeing your plans during the Share."

I sat down on the floor, watching my other body rouse the unconscious Ss'sik'chtokiwij she'd hurled against the wall moments before. "Wake up, you sleepyhead, rub your eyes, get out of bed..."

I cringed.

Jen-Jen's eyes weren't visible, but the stance was one of surprised gawking. "Are you all right?"

I mouthed the word yes, making the okay sign with my claw.

Shasharmazorb did exactly what I did, including the silent mouthing.

I smacked my face, mouthing no.

When she tried to mirror that, I waved my claws frantically, attempting to indicate that she stop.

Jen-Jen stared at me, then her. "Did that...mind link damage something?"

I stared at the ceiling, silently praying that Shasharmazorb would get her act together.

After a long pause, Shasharmazorb answered, "I feel good. Like I knew that I would now."

I groaned, questioning the wisdom of this body swap.

"Keep your talking to a minimum," I hissed to Shasharmazorb as the two neared the exit.

Despite me saying it in Ss'sik'chtokiwij, Jen-Jen told my other self, "I wouldn't recommend that. If we find out you've been withholding information, someone's going to die." She had completely misunderstood my meaning.

Shasharmazorb clenched her fists angrily. "Revenge is a dish that is best served cold!"

I shrank down, trying to make myself invisible. I must have looked ridiculous, but Shasharmazorb was embarrassing the hell out of me. Either she had been exposed to an endless stream of television, or she'd been digging through mounds of my more useless memories, making her sound like a walking talking video tape.

Jen-Jen laughed. "You'll have to keep that revenge on ice for a long, long time, _Mr. Khan_. Try anything funny, and you'll be very, very sorry."

Shasharmazorb growled.

"Are you _sure_ you're all right? You're acting kind of weird."

More growling. " _I wish to speak to Weyland._ "

"What about your mommy, mommy?" Mark asked my body.

"Go with her," I sighed. "I'll be okay."

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij wanted to stay with me too, but i shooed them away. "I, _Ellie_ needs more protection than me."

They nodded gravely.

Jen-Jen waved to a camera bubble and the inner door slid open. I watched as she, Shasharmazorb, Mark and the Ss'sik'chtokiwij marched out, watched the inner door slide shut again.

And then I was alone.

The eager excitement conveyed by her light skipping footsteps was not lost on me.

She'd at last escaped her prison, leaving me in her place.

I'd left all hope for the future in her inexperienced hands.

[0000]

* * *

Note: I'm afraid I've lost my audience, or maybe I've scared them away with my talk about cussing when losing text, or forgetting to write in Pillow for a few paragraphs, or maybe due to something offensive or unoriginal in the text.

As far as the latter is concerned, this story is a knowing nod to _The Prisoner_ , since it inspired _Persons Unknown_ and _Wayward Pines_ , also big influences on this story.

About the other issues, well, I guess that's unavoidable. At any rate, like A Dog and A Boy Scout and other less successful writings of mine, I'm determined to see this through to the end, if only to figure out who goes where when I reach the end of Ellie. It's about to split in 3 stories with less characters, if only I can get to that point!


	62. Chapter 62: First Offensive

I stared at the security door, wondering if Shasharmazorb had abandoned me for her newfound freedom.

It was then that I began to ask myself the big question I had neglected to consider up until this point. Namely, how the hell would I squeeze a body this big out of this tiny prison cell?

I took stock of my surroundings, giving the subject of logistics serious thought.

Clearly, this was an issue that would require brains over brute strength. After all, if it had been a simple matter of smashing something open, Shasharmazorb would have been out and running around already. This is not to say that Shasharmazorb is stupid, merely that she happened to be a tad unimaginative, and there had to be some reason why she hadn't escaped.

In science class, they _did_ say that people differed from animals because they learned how to use tools. I'm not saying that I agree with the concept of evolution, but I have seen video of monkeys using hollowed out sticks to suck ants out of dirt mounds.

I could tell right away that I wasn't going to be able to go out the way I came in. The door was too small. Even if I somehow dismantled the little entry tunnel (it looked like Shasharmazorb had made attempts at smashing it in, but it hadn't worked) I wouldn't be able to squeeze out.

I also couldn't go out the way Shasharmazorb had gone in.

I saw they had originally built a sort of garage door for her to come through, but Shasharmazorb had ripped it off the frame, revealing that someone had come in afterwards and sealed the whole thing off with concrete. When I laid my head against it and knocked, it sounded thick, not hollow. These people hadn't been taking any chances.

The cow bones and cattle carcasses told me how they'd been keeping Shasharmazorb alive all this time. I guessed they squeezed the cattle in through that narrow security corridor, maybe prodding it into the chamber afterwards. My body was bigger than a cow, so I thought it wouldn't quite work for me to squish into that compartment, even if I figured out how to open it.

It appeared as if they had also sent in a dog, perhaps as a potential pet, a Labrador by the looks of it, but she had only devoured it.

A human body rotted in one corner of the room, a repairman, judging by the tool belt. I guessed he'd come in to fix the TV.

Shasharmazorb had a collection of books, mostly children's fare, their pages enlarged and treated with some kind of special lamination process. _The Saggy Baggy Elephant, The Tawny Scrawny Lion, Scuffy the Tugboat, Green Eggs and Ham..._ She also had some novels, _the Mouse and the Motorycle,_ Remo Williams the Destroyer, and, bizarrely enough, a book on the Bastogne road block of World War II.

She had been provided with teddy bears, rawhide bones and a "Speak and Spell Retro."

For refreshment, someone had set up a giant sized version of one of those self filling `replendish' dog water bowls, filled with yellow ammonia. By the looks of it, the tank refilled somewhere on the other side of the wall. A

A broken crane stood in one corner, probably once used for lifting cows or Shasharmazorb.

Tractor and bus tires had been scattered about, which I found a little insulting. After all, they did the same thing for apes.

A large hole still existed in the floor, half covered in a tarpaulin of slime. A flicker of memory told me that this was Shasharmazorb's personal toilet.

I glanced through the window at the hostage situation.

I saw Shasharmazorb in there, talking to the screen, but Weyland didn't look happy. I decided to go ahead and plot my escape.

On the imaginary boat of our shared mental voyage, I could sense Shasharmazorb's aquaphobia. Rain was fine, but she wouldn't go near a swimming pool. The Board must have figured the `ape' wouldn't go near the `apehouse moat' when they designed her `flush toilet.' Plus no one in their right mind would volunteer to wallow in their own shit.

Well, I wasn't in my right mind. I knew from the memories that Shasharmazorb hadn't tried it before, so I held my breath and squeezed my big body through the relatively narrow hole in the floor, exploring the environment below.

I discovered I could compress my exoskeleton flat, shifting around my internal organs. This newfound ability allowed me that extra `oomph' required to push all the way through without breaking any bones.

Upon my first visit there, I hadn't thought about how dingy the water was, but it _was_ pretty dirty. Now in Shasharmazorb's body, it felt downright gross.

I knew the route leading to the well shaft would be a dead end. Regardless of how that tentacled thing got out (or if its twin had pulled the Disney barge below the waves) I didn't want to end up stuck like a cork in the throat of a wine bottle. I swam the other way.

Actually, it was more like walking in the shallow end of a pool. Not a lot of space to maneuver.

A few paces down from my prison, I saw light trickling from another hole. I felt I could hold my breath a long time, but thought it wouldn't hurt to surface for more air, so I yanked the rebar grating out of the concrete it had been set in, squeezing my way upwards through the opening.

I came out in a cell that looked almost exactly like the one I'd left, minus the mess. A garage door at one end seemed to indicate they planned to use it for another Ss'sik'chtokiwij queen, maybe Ernie when she got big enough. The very thought of it made me angry.

The only thing I found in the room were pieces of thick metal, the type they probably would use on another security tunnel, a tough looking pane of glass, and a metal chain with a pair of bolted plates at either end.

Now, I had a vivid memory from Shasharmazorb about people typing codes into keypads, so I thought, just for giggles, I'd try out a few number combinations on the keypad by the door.

It had a thumbprint scan, but the corpse from the other room had a thumb that was still intact, so I cut it off and placed it on the scanner.

It was a good thing he hadn't been dead long. I later found out that those things tend to have problems with them when you so much as get your nails done.

Having gotten somewhat used to playing key codes by ear, I duplicated the beeps Shasharmazorb heard every other day at feeding time.

I was simultaneously delighted and horrified when the garage began rolling up into the ceiling.

"Shit!"

Hoping and praying that nobody noticed, I pushed a button and the thing came back down.

My next order of business appeared to be weapons. I mean, sure, I could just throw my weight around and see what happened, but I imagined Shasharmazorb already tried that.

Now, I had grabbed the dead man's tool belt along with his finger, and the other room contained tires, so I made for myself a sort of giant yo-yo by bolting the chain to one of them.

I also used my saliva and bits of scrap metal to solder handles for the metal sheets.

I typed in the security code and picked up a makeshift riot shield.

The moment the overhead door retracted about five feet, a group of soldiers with machine guns opened fire on me.

I held up my shield, hurling the tire yo-yo at them.

The soldiers fell like bowling pins.

I whipped the tire back on the chain, flung it again and again, until none of them remained standing.

Since my original shield had been damaged, I grabbed another piece of metal, then ran out of the room, snatching up the first weapon I came across.

I accidentally crushed a couple people to death, maimed a few others, but it couldn't be helped.

The gun felt like a toy in my claws. My digits didn't quite fit, but I reasoned that if I could fire a Transformers pop gun without fitting in a trigger at all, I should be okay just flicking the trigger on a real one with a claw tip.

Up the corridor, I could see the soldiers stationed outside the room that held my friends. The commotion had alerted them to my presence. Bullets flew.

I raised my shield, spraying the hallway with ammunition.

I probably would have had a harder time hitting them, but the sight of a big black thing coming after them Captain America style, with a gun in one claw was a little too ridiculous for them to take seriously until their buddies fell bleeding to the floor.

Hearing clicking sounds behind me, I shot down a couple soldiers that had gotten up and tried to sneak up on me with their guns, then swiped another loaded weapon.

I rushed to the door to the observation room, then stopped, wondering if I had done the right thing.

What if my `reckless actions' had already endangered everyone's life? Surely Welyand knew that consciousness could be transferred from a Ss'sik'chtokiwij to a human and vice versa...what if I'd doomed us all?

The door had no window, so I couldn't tell what was going on. I fact, I didn't even know how I was supposed to open it.

As I was pondering this predicament, the door suddenly popped open, and a Ss'sik'chtokiwij came scurrying out with a scream, followed by my other body, armed with a gun. The shots ranged wildly away from target, but it was enough to make the larva leave a trail of piss behind herself as she ran.

I recognized the shell patterning.

When she darted around a corner, the Ellie attempted to give chase, but I stopped her. "Leave her. I have a feeling The Organization is going to have lots of fun with her when we're gone."

Shasharmazorb nodded.

"How are the hostages?" I asked, secretly dreading the answer.

She gestured to the interior of the room.

My jaw distended in shock at what I saw.

Nearly everyone in the team was still alive!

I stared at Tido, Bo Peep and Luke, completely baffled as to why they were standing around breathing.

Unfortunately, Estalix was still dead, but so were Willie, Mr. Porter, and the two androids, so it was best to count my blessings.

The smashed monitor and camera bubbles indicated we weren't being watched. At least in theory.

"It all happened so quickly," Sharad said. "First Ellie was talking to Weyland, _then her clone turns her gun on that guy..._ " She pointed her tail at Mr. Porter, sprawled on the concrete with a gunshot wound in his forehead. "A second later, that cult guy pops up from the floor and shoots the man with the funny haircut."

So Willie was dead, too.

I pointed my claw at Luke. "I...I mean, _Ellie_ saw him die!"

"The sword's a fake," said Ellie 2. She pulled it out of the cage, pushing it against her palm. The blade retracted into the handle.

 _"I did magic,"_ Luke said, pointing to bags of fake blood. "I act good too."

I pointed to Bo Peep. "And her?"

"Charon removed the bullets from Willie's gun."

"And Willie and Mr and Mrs. Porter...are they really dead?"

Ellie 2 nodded. " _That part wasn't fake._ "

Golic knelt before me. "I always knew you had the power to do this, O great god. Ever since you sent your prophetess with the holy message, I began my plot against the wretched establishment. _I think I was quite convincing!_ Did my service please you, my Lord?"

I sighed heavily. " _That'll do, pig. That'll do._ "

Golic frowned, appearing to puzzle over my movie quote like a great mystery of the faith.

"We should get out of here," I groaned.

I eyed my camo wearing clone with suspicion. "Why are you helping us?"

"We should kill her," Shasharmazorb said. "It's too confusing."

I raised a claw, indicating she shouldn't.

"Why do you have to kill me?" Ellie 2 protested. "I helped you guys out, right?"

"You were our enemy before," I said. "I can't completely trust you. I've lost too much to people who acted like friends then turned around to stab me in the back."

"Can I please kill her?" Shasharmazorb asked.

"Maybe we should," I said. "She probably has a tracking chip in her body. They'll know exactly where to find us."

"Please," said my clone. "Isn't there some better way to resolve this?"

"Not unless I can find some handcuffs," I said. "And a way to remove your tracker. _You were with them._ We can't afford to have you running around, getting in our way."

"I won't! I want to help! What makes you think I want to get in your way?"

"What can you do to convince me otherwise?"

She gestured to the room. "Doesn't all of this count for something?"

"It could be a trick within a trick."

"Look," she stammered. " _I hung out with David_. And Pillow. I...I don't believe the same things, but I understand their need for family. And a home." She was looking at Shasharmazorb as she said this. "They've told me all about their home planet. I want to go there. I want to help."

"Then why did you attack us... _her_ earlier?"

She frowned at me. "I did what I had to do because I didn't have any other options available."

I scowled, glancing at Moe. "What do you think?"

He shrugged. "We need allies right now, and the enemy of our enemy is a friend, right?"

I let out a low growl, nodding in response.

"Guessica," I said. "How did you learn to throw knives?"

The girl's eyes got all extra big. " _You were watching?_ "

I nodded. "It was very good."

"Well," she stammered. "I practiced it at camp, with the Shasharmazhim. And _before_ , in my free time."

Mark and Luke hugged each other.

Mark pointed to Shasharmazorb. "Mother!"

"No," Luke growled. "Mother is Sil!"

Mark sighed and looked down. " _Was._ " He again indicated my other body. "She is mother now."

Shasharmazorb slumped her shoulders, and the two embraced her.

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij nuzzled around me happily. Even Ssunamrozedrah, freed from her restraints and face mask came up to greet me.

I put an arm around the adult Ss'sik'chtokiwij, but she flinched, not understanding until I explained what the gesture meant. When Hosea joined them, Ssunamrozedrah got confused, and even a little offended, but I told her what happened, and how I had traded bodies with Shasharmazorb.

 _"So_ that's _why you were acting so strange!"_ Caitlyn cried, hugging me as well.

"Careful," I said. "My slime might melt your skin off."

She backed up a little. "When can you go back into your body?"

I shrugged. "Soon, I hope. But I want to at least get to the ship first."

This new information puzzled Luke and Mark, but they accepted it quickly.

"If you're on our side," I said to Ellie 2. "Why didn't you help me before I went through _all of this_?" I pointed to my body.

"I wanted...the other Ellie to assist you in escaping your cell. I thought maybe sharing minds would help you figure out a solution. It turns out I was right."

"Yeah, lucky for you."

Moe and Tido bowed before me in worship, urging Absoute, Guessica and Bo Peep to do the same.

I waved no. "Stop it. Get up off the floor. This is silly. Why don't you worship a real god for once?"

The two adult leaders stood up, muttering to each other for at least a minute.

Finally, Golic said, "The time for bodily worship is not yet. She must ascend into the literal heavens to be clothed on power from on high."

I groaned and rubbed my face in annoyance.

"Do we have weapons?" Ellie 2 asked me. "Besides the ones we have?"

I pointed at the dead bodies down the hall. "We got some guns over there."

Ellie 2, Moe and Sharad hurried over there to check them.

Two soldiers came rushing up the tunnel to meet them, but my three teammates picked them off and ran back to us with the supplies.

I myself grabbed one of these rifles, and since I didn't completely trust the bulletproof qualities of the glass, another sheet of metal from the open cell.

"The sooner we move," said Ellie 2. "The less of a target we'll be."

"Wait," I said. "We need a plan."

"What you got, mama Ripley?" Moe asked me.

"The first order of business is finding and securing the ship."

"What about my granddaughter?" Shasharmazorb demanded.

Moe gawked at her. " _Granddaughter_? Don't you mean, uh, _niece_?"

He paused. "Oh right. I forgot. _You moved out._ "

He gazed at me appraisingly. " _I suppose I can get used to it..._ "

Sighing, I said, "Look, Shasharmazorb. I love Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik just as much as you do, but I think we should plan this out carefully. As long as we have Pillow and the babies with us, we're at risk. I propose we drop our weaker members off at the ship and go after Ernie, I mean Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik _,_ with our stronger people."

"That _seems_ like a good idea," Moe said. "But I don't like the idea of putting all our eggs in one basket, so to speak. What if someone comes in and makes hostages of everyone?"

"We don't need that many people to go after Ernie. I'm big, so I can stay behind and guard the ship. The kids are good fighters, so even if we leave them with the ship, they should be able to hold their ground."

Absolute, Bo Peep and Guessica responded with nods, the idea of fighting alongside their once god still appealing to them.

"Caitlyn," I said. "You'll stay with Sharad and the others where it's safe."

"But I have stuff in my pockets! I'm sure you can use them. Just like those keys!"

I swallowed. "You're right. We can. But I need you to stay where it's safe. Don't make mommy get killed!"

She opened her mouth to protest, but I said, "That's an order. You hear me? This isn't a game, _soldier_!"

Her lower lip trembled. "Yes, ma'am."

She handed me the stuff from her pockets.

A card key in a plastic sleeve, the number 7 Rook card, a pocket New Testament with underlined parts, the sharpened jacks, the pager, the stubby flash drive, a set of keys, the ID from someone named Jim, and the rook piece from a chess game.

I guess it `wasn't in the cards' for me to get the Lady's Remington back.

As she was handing over her plastic bird, I noticed a metallic clinking sound.

I turned the bird upside down and found it full of bullets.

 _"Okay..."_ I said. "That accounts for some of our weapons...what about the rest?"

"That pad in Luke's cage..." said Ellie 2. "I don't think it's a pad."

We opened the cage and found the rest of our ammunition tucked inside a large pillow-like thing in the bottom.

 _"It wasn't very comfortable,"_ Luke said.

"I have something for you too," said my clone.

She brought out the suitcase I'd carried during my quest to eliminate Sil.

Truthfully, there wasn't much in there I could use. I wanted the dolls, diary and photo album for sentimental value, but the badge collar and Google glasses were no longer of any use to me. And the nerve destroying condoms... _ugh_.

The use of the powder compact carried the risk of alerting the board to my presence.

I ditched everything except the sentimental items, the communicator and the skeleton key lipstick, using the freed up space to hold Caitlyn's items. I handed it to Sharad for safekeeping.

We turned out the pockets of our dead enemies as well, pilfering keys and other items that could possibly aid us on our quest.

With some reluctance, I also took Mr. Porter's finger, since I knew there'd be at least one thumbprint scanner at one of the many security checkpoints.

"How will Shasharmazorb know to get to Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik's room?" Pillow asked.

I glanced at Shasharmazorb. Even she didn't seem to know. I, like her, only had a vague memory of the place, having been there only once.

I had noticed how Pillow had looked at me funny when I had tried to enter Shasharmazorb's room by a different door. She hadn't said anything at the time, but there was that look.

"You know something about this place, don't you, Pillow?"

"Of course I do," she said. "I used to work here."

I frowned. "I'd take you along, but you've got the babies."

"I have to come along. You need my information."

"I wish I had a radio," I muttered.

"Radio's no good," Moe said. "It'd just get intercepted. The same goes for any method of uncoded communication."

"I'm going," Pillow said. "Sharad and Camille can take care of my children."

"Reem!" Sharad protested. "It's not safe!"

"Don't forget," I said. "I'll be with her."

"No, you'll be guarding the ship. Shasharmazorb will be in your body."

"We can trade back," Shasharmazorb said. "I'll do whatever I can to bring Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik to me."

"I'll aid you in the rescue," said Ellie 2.

Resolving to watch my clone like a hawk, I agreed.

"I'll go with you," Ssunamrozedrah said.

I stared. "You sure? They had you hanging in those chains a long time..."

 _"She is my aunt!_ " she growled. "I will get her out of this place, even if it means the loss of my own life! It is the way of all Yaotija!" She beat her chest with her claw.

Shasharmazorb frowned at her. "We have much to talk about, young one."

Ssunamrozedrah nodded. "Indeed we shall."

I assigned Luke, Hosea, Jeremy and Amos guard duty. Golic, Charon, Ellie 2 and Tido I didn't fully trust, so I assigned them part of the rescue effort,to keep them in my sight at all times. Moe, Lammy, Julia and Mark would easily rip through them if they tried to make a move against me.

We loaded up on weaponry and, following Pillow, we hurried up the corridor, past the power plant.

Guessica suddenly bent over, taking several deep ragged breaths. She clutched her chest.

"Are you okay?" I cried.

She nodded. "Yeah. I just...get this way sometimes."

"Can you...keep up?"

"Yeah. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I just needed to stop a moment, that's all."

As we turned the corner leading to the staff dwellings and the hospital, I heard gunshots.

Three figures came running toward us, firing into a group of armed Moe clones and jar-headed soldiers. One figure wore a red jumpsuit, one wore a Nehru jacket, and one was an Abreya with a bloodstain across the stomach of her bikini.

"No time to explain," Simon blurted. "Played a nasty trick, no one important to you is dead, no time to explain, let us make a hasty retreat - _Good God!_ "

My presence hadn't registered until then, but now he seemed ready to turn tail and flee back to the soldiers.

"We're not going anywhere," I said. _"Attack!_ "

The enemy didn't know what hit them.

Heck, _I_ didn't know what hit them. In seconds, we were picking up weapons and hurrying over to the tram that led to the hospital area.

Problem. My big body didn't easily squeeze into the vehicle seats, and the tunnel narrowed.

"I can either go first," I said. "Or I can go last. But I can't ride along."

"In chess, you always keep the king and queen protected," said Moe.

"You have a point," said Ellie 2. "But tanks generally go in before infantrymen."

"I guess the question is whether she thinks of herself as a queen or a tank."

"I want to be the first one into battle," I said. "You guys stay close and bail me out if it gets heavy."

"Tank it is."

I stalked up the hallway to where the tram stood. I wasn't quite narrow enough to squeeze around it, so I instead got an idea in my head about climbing over the top.

At first, I thought I was doing fine, and had even cleared the front car before coming to the sudden realization that my tail had hit something it shouldn't and I was speeding through the corridor Grape Ape style, a huge passenger atop a miniature vehicle. My crown, back and shoulder plates uncomfortably scraped against the ceiling as I zoomed across the tracks.

An army of men and women with guns awaited me at the end.

With all those soldiers ready armed and presumably ready to fire, I decided the best strategy would be that of the Berserker, using my intimidating form and the element of surprise (I figured my form _would_ be a surprise to most of them, unless they got a memo about a big black alien with a shield and a gun riding on the back of a tiny roller coaster car) so I launched myself into the air, shield out in front of me, tickling the trigger of the rifle.

When I landed, I whirled the shield in a circle around me, knocking several of the soldiers unconscious. I shot the ones that remained standing, then backed up to the tram.

More of the enemy poured in from the connecting tunnels of the hospital. I raised the shield again, preparing for the worst.

It was then that I noticed someone guarding my tail.

As if they had permanently adopted the pecking order I had assigned for the remainder of this mission, my key offensive `people' had hopped on the tram the moment they saw it taking off. I hadn't even noticed them behind me until they surrounded my flanks, blasting holes into drab olive uniforms, Mark and the Ss'sik'chtokiwij ripping the others open before they could get in a shot.

Recognizing the hospital hallway somewhat, I ran ahead in vaguely the same direction I'd gone to find the ship for the first time.

A few yards down, I saw flashes of light, fire, and smoke billowing out around me.

A big metal barrier crashed down behind me, guillotine style, separating me from the team.

A bulky steel shape came trundling through the yellow fog, a strange sort of humanoid robot with long metal talons and a glass cage around the head.

A power loader!

A flicker of Shasharmazorb's memory told me that this was the same exact model of machine that Ripley had used to deposit her into an airlock and throw her into space, but with added armor to protect the driver. I flinched in alarm.

"You continue to impress me," Weyland said through a built-in PA system.

The talon claws expanded wider, turning at angles ideal for grabbing me. "Unfortunately, I can't permit you to leave."


	63. Chapter 63: Hopewell

I glanced back to see if the trap had injured or killed any of my friends, then sighed with relief when I discovered it hadn't.

Unfortunately, though, it _had_ succeeded in separating me from the group.

"I've done some remodeling to this section of the hospital," I heard the man saying.

"Oh goody," I muttered.

"You're not going anywhere, Ellen," Weyland said. "It's about time you put aside these foolish notions and give up. You're not going to escape this place."

"Yeah?" I said. "Watch me!"

I pulled the trigger, spraying his machine with bullets.

Although I damaged some of the plating around his limbs, the cockpit area had been protected by a sort of bulletproof glass, so while I did succeed in making Weyland unstable and teeter backwards for a moment, he soon righted himself and came stomping after me the moment he heard my gun click empty.

I charged forward, giving him a hard slap with the sheet of steel. The machine rocked off one foot, but then Weyland brought a claw arm down on me, using my body to stabilize.

"I've had lots of time to practice maneuvering in this," the man said. "How much time have you practiced using _that?_ "

 _"Enough,"_ I growled, ramming the sheet of metal against the power loader's midsection.

He rocked backwards, but then quickly turned one claw on its cylinder joint, grabbing me around the neck.

I recalled a memory of something similar happening to Shasharmazorb. She tried to bite Ellen through the head, preventing Ellen from crushing her neck.

This time, the driver had no such vulnerability. Already I could hear my plates cracking where the original Ripley had damaged my body. It seemed, despite all the time in the facility, some things still hadn't healed.

"I don't want to do this," the man said. "I really don't. You're such a beautiful specimen. Turn around and go back. I'll see that your team is well treated until The War."

"War?" I said. "What war?"

The claw relaxed. "Don't concern yourself about that. We'll let you know when the time comes."

I frowned. "You're planning World War Three."

"In retrospect, it was unwise to let you observe our meeting. Still, you have to understand that war is good for the economy. It creates jobs in the gun industry, the military, the entertainment industry, aeronautics...Ironically enough, it also allows us to cut spending on the space colonies, bringing more of the money `back home.'"

"That's great," I grunted, feigning nonchalance as I edged out of the claw. "How are you going to find your miracle cure if you cut finding to space programs?"

"We still have the organization, independent funding..."

He turned the robotic claw at an angle, using it to grip _my claw_. "Care to dance?"

 _The nerve of this guy!_ I thought. _What an asshole!_

"Yeah," I replied. _"I'll lead."_

I shoved him into a wall.

The machine had been heavy, so I didn't do as much damage as I had originally hoped.

"We salvaged some recordings from the incident," Weyland said. "In addition to practicing with the equipment, I had the frame reinforced."

"Did that practice include combat training?" I asked.

I could see from the expression on the man's face that the answer was "very little," so I grabbed his machine under one leg and hurled him to the concrete like a pro wrestler.

When I leaned over to smash him against the concrete again, Mr. Weyland stared back at me with an expression of shock.

His eyes were bulging out, and I had no idea why. Was he really that scared of me?

I guess so. He screamed.

"Oh my God!" he shouted. "Please don't kill me, whatever you are!"

I still didn't understand what he was playing at. "This is a trick, isn't it?"

Weyland laughed. A genuine nervous laugh. " _My God, it actually talks!_ "

He slowly raised his arms, which caused the machine's arms to rise. "I mean you no harm."

And then he asked, "What am I doing in this thing?"

"Is...your head injured?" I asked.

He furrowed his brow. "It's fine. Why do you think my head is injured?...Where am I?"

"It's the brain cancer," I muttered to myself. "He's slipped a cog!"

"What am I doing on the floor?"

I shrugged. "You were... _doing some practice maneuvering with that machine,_ and I was... _helping you._ You're still not very good at it. That's why you fell on the floor."

I watched and waited for his response.

He believed the lie. He didn't even question it. He only said, "Oh. That was clumsy of me."

When he asked about the bullet holes, I replied that it was a successful test of the armor.

"I guess I should make more of these, shouldn't I?"

I frowned. " _I don't know..._ I think you should work on this prototype a little bit more. _There seems to be a few bugs._ "

Weyland nodded. "Will you be around a little later? I'd like a breakdown of what went wrong."

"Uh... _sure,_ " I lied.

Seeing as the man appeared to be no threat anymore, I left him where he was, searching the metal barriers for handles, catches, anything I could use to hoist them back into the ceiling. I was unsuccessful.

The section of hallway contained only one door, and that particular door had also been blocked off by a steel guillotine. The rest of it was bland concrete, the institutional paint job (the floor number was B1) and an electronic keypad along one wall its only features.

I approached the panel, frowning at it.

"Hey!" I heard Weyland calling to me. "I seem to have fallen. Can you help me back up?"

I glanced back at the supplicating robotic arm with discomfort. "I'm sorry...I'm... _busy._ "

To illustrate my `busy-ness,' I pushed some keys on the keypad. Nothing happened, of course.

"Have you seen my daughter around here? She was supposed to be helping me on a project. I'm afraid she might have gotten lost."

"What's her name?" I said.

"Kamara."

I cringed. "Sorry. Haven't seen her."

"You didn't eat her, did you?"

I suddenly felt cold inside. " _No..._ "

"It's one of those deals where you take your kid to work with you, and they write a paper about it. A lot of stuff here is classified, but I think she understands..."

I marched over to the metal barrier, applying steaming saliva in a vaguely door shaped pattern. I knew this was going to take awhile, but it made me feel better about leaving my mentally handicapped enemy where he lay.

"She's ten years old, but she's _sharp!_ " I heard him saying. "...Have you seen my phone? Maybe I can get my wife to go look for her."

"Your kid's smart. I think she can probably find her own way back."

I melted halfway through the barrier, but saw no light through the surface.

I could hear fighting and shooting on the other side of the barrier, but there wasn't anything I could do about it.

"A strange thought occurred to me," Weyland muttered. "A large percentage of my ideas come to me while I'm on the toilet. For a long time, I thought it merely had something to do with the brain and nervous system being connected to the bowels, but maybe it just means that all my ideas are shit."

"Did you mean in general?" I asked. "Or this situation specifically?"

Weyland stared at me. "What do you mean?"

Invisible eye roll. "Never mind."

"I have a headache. Do you have any aspirin?"

"Do I look like I have pockets?" I growled.

Hearing a strange purring sound beside me, I turned my head and saw the mosquito headed Big Bird in all her holographic glory, waving a friendly hello with one black armor plated wing.

"Big Bird!" I cried. "Thank goodness you're here! Can you...figure out some way to help me?"

Without a word, she shoved her beak through the keypad, making chewing motions with her beak, like she'd found some delicious insects inside.

The metal barriers slowly rolled back up into the ceiling.

Emerging from the wall, she pointed her tail warningly at some of the floor tiles. "Don't touch."

My team stood in the section opposite the wall that had originally closed behind me, the section of tunnel through which Weyland had entered moments before. It seemed they had decided as a group to attempt a rescue by running a circuit to the other end of the building. Of course, they only ended up facing the second metal barrier.

You know that section of the metal barrier that I'd melted halfway through? The whole chunk slid off onto the floor the moment the wall started moving. The sound was deafening.

I thanked Big Bird, rushing to join my team.

Camille looked weary from carrying Haman so long, but nothing could be done about that.

I smiled when I saw Caitlyn riding on the shoulders of my other body.

I didn't see Hosea anywhere. When I asked about her, Ssunamrozedrah told me she was exploring the hallway.

"Bring her back," I said. "Hurry."

She left Caitlyn with Pillow and ran off to find the woman.

Moe waved his gun at the downed power loader. "Looks like that one's still alive. Should I go and finish him off?"

"Leave him," I said in a low voice. "he's in no shape to hurt anyone. He's had a blackout. He thinks he only slipped and fell. Act nonchalant."

Ippi leaned over the machine, leering at the man inside. "You know how you said your greatest fear was to use up the rest of your life, and not have nothing to show for it? News flash: _It's already come true!_ "

She spat on the glass.

"We found the ship," she said. "We should go."

I nodded, but before I could move a muscle, I saw a holographic chicken fly down from the ceiling, perching on Weyland's machine.

I stared. "What the hell?"

"It's MM7!" Big Bird cried. "You must leave here at once!"

Too late. The moment that holographic chicken landed, it dove through the control panel of the power loader, and the machine jumped up on its feet, as if possessed.

Before I could prepare myself, it came running at me, ramming into my body like a freight train. I fell, knocking down and injuring my teammates in the process.

"I will have your obedience," a demonic voice barked through the speaker system. "Or all of you will die!"

Through the glass, I could see Weyland mutely shouting. Jane, stop this crazy thing, I thought with a slight smirk.

Moe, Ellie 2, Ippi, Charon, Sharad and Tido opened fire, blasting the machine backwards.

"Wait!" I said. "Mr. Weyland's inside!"

Moe and Ippi gave me this look that said, "Exactly," pumping more bullets into the thing.

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij attempted to knock down the machine, but the plating resisted such physical assaults. Ssunamrozedrah, in her weakened state, ended up being thrown back. Mark and Luke fared no better.

"Protect the queen!" Tido shouted.

"Save Shasharmazorb and her young!" said Golic.

The children and the others did their best to comply, but MM7 wasn't going down.

Sharad was too busy guarding Nate to do much else but hold her gun at the ready.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Guessica gasping as she leaned against a wall. Pillow had her hand on the girl's shoulder, talking to her about something.

MM7 capitalized on this distraction by smashing me up side the head with his claw.

"Hey!" Zack called to me. "Big girl! You got night vision, right?"

I said, "Yeah?"

He threw smoke grenades at my enemy, clouding the area.

Unfortunately, MM7 could see just as well as me in that fog. I got punched in the gut.

Simon threw something that looked like darts at the machine. They actually stuck.

I didn't know what their purpose was until the darts flashed and made the power loader stop in its tracks.

The victory was short lived. A second after this had happened, the machine hit Simon in the head, knocking him out cold.

Despite all the chaos, Weyland somehow gathered enough presence of mind to locate a manual escape lever, and he was out of the machine, running down the corridor, away from us with a shriek.

 _"The man goes on a mile jog every day,"_ Moe remarked.

The machine needed no driver to operate. Soon it was charging after me again.

I swung my tail, knocking it over, but MM7 pulled me down, clamping a claw around my neck.

I thrashed and struggled against the thing, but it held me fast, and no one wanted to fire, for fear of injuring me.

It took a lot of effort, but I managed to roll over, presenting the back of the machine to my allies.

It exploded. When I glanced back, I saw Ippi holding the Yaotija blaster. Apparently she had swiped it from Shasharmazorb.

The power loader let go, rising to its feet.

Its claw backhanded Ippi, knocking her unconscious.

"You think _that_ can stop me?" the machine bellowed, stomping the blaster to bits.

"No," Moe said, slapping a magazine into his gun. "But I think _this_ will do the trick!"

Everyone pounded it with bullets.

Its left arm sparked, then ceased to work.

The machine's right leg collapsed beneath its body.

It fell to the concrete.

"You destroy a mere machine," MM7's voice crackled through the now damaged equipment. "I am _eternal_! When I return to the system, I will bring swift vengeance upon all of you for this act of insolence!"

Big Bird flapped down on the machine's broken head, poking her holographic beak into the machine. A second later, Mr. Clucky's head emerged.

"Your core is corrupted," said Big Bird. "Prepare to be hacked!"

"Bold talk coming from the coward that refused to face me at the Siebers complex!"

"And who took the form of a chicken?"

MM7 emerged from the machine, taking flight, but Big Bird was faster.

In a blink, her beak snapped open, launching a digital facehugging socmavaj at the computerized hen.

The socmavaj coiled around its victim, refusing to let go. MM7 fought and struggled against it, but then collapsed onto the concrete, too weak to prevent the creature from impregnating its small body.

"It's almost like putting an egg back inside a chicken," Moe joked.

Its reproductive task complete, the digital socmavaj released its victim, sprawling feet-up dead.

The hen uttered a garbled squawk, then cried, "No! What have you done!"

In a panic, it fled from us, beating a hasty retreat to the ceiling from which it had originally emerged.

It didn't make it. The moment it got close, a larva burst from its stomach, and the hen exploded in a scattering of ones and zeros.

The electronic larva scurried to its mother, nuzzling against her illusionary body.

"I name you... _Abalardo._ " the mother said.

Ippi put her hands on her hips, rolling her eyes. "Cute. Very cute. But now it's time to go."

Pillow nodded. "We found the ship. We might even have the right tools to unlock the room."

"Wait," I said. "How did _you_ know where to look? Surely they wouldn't tell _you..._ "

Shasharmazorb tapped a finger to her temple. "You kept thinking about it. I wouldn't forget a thing like _that!_ "

I shook Ippi awake. At first, she screamed at me (with a face like mine, who wouldn't?), but then she calmed down and got up off the floor.

"My Lord," Golic said to me. "If I did not believe you could transcend all things, I would have been worried when you rushed off on your own to fight this agent of hell..."

"I was worried myself," I said.

The man again appeared to be taking this as some kind of gospel. "My Lord! We are willing to fight and die on your behalf! If you only say the word!"

"The sad thing is, I might have to take you up on that offer pretty soon."

Golic made the sign of Shasharmazorb in response.

I followed Shasharmazorb down the hallway to a steel security door.

The moment I saw the locking devices, I knew we had a problem.

"It's a retinal scan!" I groaned.

"Easy!" Ippi said. "All we have to do is catch that Weyland creep and do a little operation!"

I swallowed. "Uh, couldn't we bring him in _live_?"

"I didn't say we'd kill him. I just said we'd take his eyeball." She shrugged. "I imagine he'd be screaming a lot."

"And alert the whole damn building," said Moe. "But you _did_ just give me an idea. There are _corpses_ in that _room we just left..._ "

I didn't like the idea, but it was a sound one, considering the circumstances. We would have had to lug a body around and hold the eyelids open...

My clone did the honors. I heard Camille, Pillow and some of the others making sounds of horrified disgust as the eye was brought back, but the scan worked.

Of course, that wasn't all there was to it.

The moment the scan completed, a panel slid open, revealing a small box that required a key. Lucky for us, it happened to be on the key ring that Caitlyn had been carrying around.

This box contained a keypad. I asked Pillow if she had any idea what the code could be, but she had no clue.

We searched through Caitlyn's items again.

"So _this_ is where that thing absconded to!" Simon snatched up the chess piece, unscrewing its base.

I stared at him. "What are you doing?"

Without a word, the man twisted the top part of the plastic castle like it were a peppercorn grinder on some gourmet salmon entree, coating the keys with white powder. When he gave the keys a gentle puff of air, the shapes of fingerprints glowed on a set of frequently depressed digits. A couple experimental button sequences caused the door to slide open.

 _"Voila!"_ Simon said with an air of triumph.

The door led into a short security corridor that ended in a secondary security door. We had to use the severed finger to get past that one. It was fortunate that these doors and passageways were wide enough to fit a small car, or I wouldn't have gotten through.

The spaceship hadn't moved. Weyland's people appeared to have left everything more or less the way I remembered it. The boarding ramp had been left extended, the front of the ship hanging open like a mouth agape.

No soldiers greeted us. The place looked deserted.

 _"So this is the Iberet..."_ Camille put her hand on the side of the hull, slid it around the curve of the frame, then frowned at the layer of dust covering her hand.. "It's not even cold! Hasn't been flown for awhile, has it?"

"Not since Fiorina 161," Pillow said.

 _"It's not very big."_

Pillow's face flushed green. "It was the best we could afford. We can't all be a Falcameer."

Haman mewled at the human. She groaned, staggering over to the plant couch.

"Thank God! I thought I'd never get a break! You're a heavy little boy, Haman!" She sunk into the cushions.

Pillow settled in next to her, shifting Quana's weight in her arms. _"This one isn't exactly a feather weight._ " She sighed, stretching out her legs. "My canines are attacking me!"

Camille smirked. 'I think you're channeling my daughter-in-law. She was always mangling idioms."

"I'm tired," Pillow sighed. "I'll be glad when this is all over."

Ssunamrozedrah walked around the craft, poking the shell, even punching it a few times. "There's no weaponry!"

"It's a missionary ship," said Pillow. "What were you expecting?"

Ssunamrozedrah uttered a low growl of frustration.

For a few moments, Pillow, Ippi, Sharad and Camille engaged in Wava banter. Nate disappeared into the craft, but nobody seemed that worried about it. After all, we had the area secured, and the Ss'sik'chtokiwij freely came in and out the entrance, unmolested, with nothing significant to report.

I applied ample amounts of saliva and blood around the door frames, ensuring that they wouldn't close again. While that put us at risk for attack, the danger of being locked out (or locked in, for that matter) was a far more pressing concern.

Moe gazed thoughtfully at the craft. " _So this is what all the trouble's about._ Not quite the Willenium Falcon."

"Don't you mean `Millenium'?" Zack asked.

"No, that's that show about that guy who sees through the killer's eyes."

"What a mess!" Pillow complained.

She marched over to a piece of alien furniture, the half plant half sofa. It had once been green, but now it looked a bit yellow and blotchy brown in parts. She stared at it mournfully. " _Oh look at this!"_ she moaned as she lifted a shriveled leaf tentacle attached to the armrest. " _It's ruined!_ "

"Could be worse," Moe said.

"Worse!" Pillow cried. "How could it be worse?"

"If the thing can't fly, that's worse."

Pillow frowned.

 _"I suppose you're right._ The last time I saw the Iberet, it was nose down in concrete. It looks a _little better_ now...Of course, if they just welded something together and slapped on some fresh paint, it'll be nothing more than a fancy piece of playground equipment."

Hosea opened a cabinet that had been removed from the vehicle, examining its contents.

"Leave that alone," Pillow scolded. "That doesn't contain anything you need concern yourself with."

Hosea pulled out a pair of underwear. "This fabric smells like fruit."

Pillow got up and slapped it out of her hands. "I said leave it alone!"

Hosea snarled at her like an angry ape, but then slinked to the corner of the room.

"Why do you want me to stay behind with the others?" Luke asked me. "Why can't I help with the rescue? I'm just as strong as... _Mark_."

The boy was human-like, but still had a shell running down his back, with a half helmet covering his head. I consolingly placed my claw on his shell. "That's what I'm counting on. We need someone to stay here and make sure no one hurts or captures your sister Caitlyn, or Pillow's babies. I've seen what you're capable of. If anyone can stand up to these guys, it's you."

Luke smiled.

I turned around to face Ippi. "For a...an Abreya with a stab wound, you're very _energetic._ "

"To make a long story short," Zack said. "We've been talking with Mr. Golic in secret."

" _And_ that alien living in that ridiculous trailer complex," Simon added. "It was challenging, but we managed to acquire more blood packs."

Golic nodded. "I already had a few fake weapons on hand for ceremonial purposes. I also gave him some of the chicken blood I've been using for a `psychic surgery.'"

"The professor helped us with the actual devices," said Zack.

"What about you?" I asked Ellie 2. "How could you have possibly been in all of this?"

"I was hiding out in Morgan's place," she said. "I met with your friends, then hurried out in a Jeep, to get Luke set up. I already had security access, and your buddies know a lot of tricks for fooling surveillance."

"But you didn't have access to this place."

"Yeah...I figured they'd cut me off the moment we fought back."

Tido, Charon, Bo Peep, Guessica, Absolute and the Ss'sik'chtokiwij had been guarding the door. When I saw them pulling out guns and firing at someone down the hallway, I knew that time had grown short.

"You should probably... _swap bodies_ now," Ellie 2 urged.

I nodded, flattening myself on the floor as Shasharmazorb laid down below me to accept the worms.

Once our minds connected, my sense of urgency was conveyed in less than a millisecond. The emotion became mutual just as fast, so we wasted no time returning to our original bodies.

The trade-off happened so quickly that, upon awakening, I became disoriented, and had to take a minute to get my bearings.

We groaned, stretched and got up, preparing for our next move.

Unfortunately, our enemy moved first.

All of a sudden, Guessica's eyes rolled back in her head, and she staggered back from the group, clutching her chest, wheezing, gasping for air.

"Guessica!" I cried, grabbing her just a second before she hit the floor.

Pillow, pale with worry, rushed up the boarding ramp, shouting about how she had some medical tools to help the child, if they hadn't been removed.

She came back out quickly, due to a small woman following her with a gun.

Pillow quickly stepped beside a bulkhead and whipped the woman with her stump of a tail, tripping her with one foot.

As they Abreya ran down the ramp, everyone pulled out their guns, aiming at the stranger.

She was a short sour faced woman, only about five feet in height, with curly blonde hair, cold hazel eyes, and a hawk-like nose.

"Drop it," Moe said. "Or we use you as target practice."

With a mad laugh, the woman slowly laid down her pistol, but then, with equal slowness, withdrew a small syringe from the pocket of her lab coat.

"Oops," she said with a nervous giggle. _"I almost dropped this._ "

I narrowed my eyes. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

The smug expression did not disappear from her heavily jowled mouth. "My name is Jane Hopewell. Are you ready to pay?"

 _"Pay?"_ I repeated. "What is this?"

"I'm a _doctor._ I know exactly what she suffers from. Allow me to help."

Although nervous about it, I gave her a nod, watching as the woman lifted my friend to her feet.

She led Guessica up the landing ramp, placing her hands on the girl's shoulders.

She raised the syringe.

"You put that thing away!" Ippi snarled, drawing her gun. "I don't know what your game is, but it ends now!"

"Ippi," I said. "Let her talk."

"Fuck her! You don't need to hear what she has to say! It's all bullshit!" She cocked back the hammer of the gun, turning her attention to the woman. "There's a special place in _hell_ for people that do what you did to me! _And I'm going to send you there!"_

"Is she the one who impregnated you?" Pillow asked.

"No. We took a trip to the country and played mini golf! Of course this is the bitch that did it!"

The woman's expression remained placid. "Are you accusing me of rape, Ms. Snarken? If so, you're being quite ridiculous. I'm a _woman_. How could I possibly-"

"Shut your fucking mouth, you lying whore! And don't give me that slick bullshit about being the wrong sex! Both you and I know full well what can be done with test tubes! You're a _sick, soulless_ _Gestapo doctor_ , what's what you are! You have no morals, no conscience, you only care about the almighty dollar and your fucking acre of land with its Frank Lloyd Wright house and your damn kitty cats!"

The woman's mirthful expression dropped, but she showed no sign of being overly upset or phased by her comments. Her snooty bird beak of a nose turned upwards. "You feel better? Now that you've gotten all of that out of your system?"

"Not until you're dead, you heartless bitch."

No change in the woman's icy demeanor.

Ippi glanced at me, as if awaiting the go-ahead.

I shook my head no.

"Not a good idea, Ms. Snarken. You see, this child suffers from a _rare disease_. It is _essential_ that we give her an injection once weekly, _in addition to her daily pills,_ or her whole body could go into cardiac arrest."

She waved the syringe. "We've been monitoring her very carefully. Your friends, _Tido, Simon_ and _Willie_ have all cooperated in this matter, administering the pills at the proper time, sometimes injections, but our records show that little Guessica's required injection hasn't been given for, _I don't know..._ " She glanced at her watch. "Three days, and _seventeen point five hours._ "

Not wanting to look into those cold predatorial pupils, I instead focused on her brown-black hornrims, the black band dangling from them. "And you want us to _pay_ for this."

She shrugged. "You want your friend to live, don't you?"

I clenched my fists.

"Now. What I want you to do is simple. Put down your weapons and forget this lunatic quest to escape your home."

"This isn't a home," I said. "It's a prison."

"Whatever it is you call it, your quest is over. We've removed several key components that you require to get this vehicle into the air. Why would you ever get the idea that we'd intentionally leave such a valuable object up and running for you to steal and fly away with, when we saw you coming with your army from miles off?

"We saw you slaughtering our soldiers. Those were men and women with _families_ , Ms. Ripley. For someone who speaks so boldly about her faith, your words are not consistent with the message that you preach."

Guessica took several deep breaths and righted herself. "I'm okay...I'll be okay..."

 _"Only momentarily, I assure you,_ " the woman replied.

 _"I don't practice what I preach?"_ I said. "Really? People made the same kinds of arguments against fighting Hitler."

"Funny you should bring that up. The Nazis were a Christian organization. They had a _pope_. You have a lot in common with the Nazis."

"The pot calls the kettle black," I said.

The woman glanced at Bo Peep. " _A black kettle!_ That _was_ racist of her, wasn't it?"

Bo Peep frowned. "Don't you play the race card on me. This is just a layer of flesh covering a spiritual exoskeleton."

Hopewell looked like she had just smelled something disgusting.

"Grab that woman," I ordered. "Take the syringe."

Hopewell raised the syringe above her head. "Ah-ah! I expected you'd try to take it by force, so I intentionally brought it in a glass container. If any of your goons come near, I smash this on the floor, and your friend dies."

We all froze.

"You see, only I have access to the serum that can cure her. Even if you were to somehow wrest this from my dead fingers, you'd only have a single dose...then..." She spread her hands, indicating nothingness.

Guessica clutched at her throat, looking like a fish struggling for air on a sandbar.

"She's dying!" I said. "You have to give her the dosage!"

"I don't have to do anything, Ms. Ripley. It's _you_ that have to obey _me._ "

"Right," said Ippi. "And if she does, she'll let the girl die anyway."

Hopewell did not affirm nor deny that accusation.

Guessica, still wheezing and struggling for air, collapsed on the floor.

"Look what you've done, Ellen. Here we stand talking while your friend slowly circles the grave."

"Don't...listen...to...her..." Guessica gasped. "Free Shasharmazorb."

"She may say that," said Hopewell. " _But deep down inside, she wants to live._ "


	64. Chapter 64: Rescue

Guessica looked normal...for the moment. I wasn't sure how long it would last.

"This hostage thing is getting a little old," Moe said under his breath. "I wish I could pull that trick like they did in the movie _Speed._ "

"What did you do to the spaceship?" I asked the woman.

"What would be my motive for telling you?"

I raised my gun. "Your life! Tell us what we want to know or I make brain salad!"

Hopewell knew it was a bluff the moment I tried it. She didn't move, she just flashed me an unpleasant grin. "I'm not going to help you with your ship, Ms. Ripley. _You're_ going to do what we say, or your friend is going to die."

"How come nobody noticed her in there?" I asked the others. "A sound? Her scent? Surely you Ss'sik'chtokiwij noticed _something!_ "

Nobody could tell me anything.

 _"That ship contains a plethora of smelly things to distract them with,"_ Hopewell said.

I stared uncomfortably at Guessica. "You should give her the injection, Ms. Hopewell. It's the right thing to do."

"So is dropping your weapons and going back the way you came."

"No dice," said Ippi. "We've come too far to let another sociopath threaten us back into our cages."

I frowned at the Abreya, but she had a point.

A dark hulking shape crept up beside me. "We should destroy her," I heard her snarling in our language.

"I agree," said Julia. "But then she will destroy the device that Guessica needs to live."

"Then I will take the device and kill her."

"She is small and quick. She will destroy it first."

Shasharmazorb growled in frustration.

I shot Zack a hopeful look. "Please tell me you have something that can solve this."

He shook his head. "If I toss a smoke grenade, she'll probably just break the syringe."

Hopewell nodded. " _And I'll break it the moment you step within a yard of me, you glorified pickpocket._ "

Zack took a step backwards.

"You too, fat man," she barked at Simon. "This medicine will shatter on the ground before it ever reaches your grubby sleeve."

"Are you positive it hasn't already been there?"

For a second, Hopewell's placid mask faltered, but then she said, "You would have given her the injection already."

With a sly look on his face, the man answered, _"Would I really?"_

"Are you saying you'd let a child die to trick me?"

"Simon," I said. "If you have the medicine, give it to Guessica."

"Yes," Hopewell said, giving the girl a shove. " _Go to him._ I want to see him try."

 _"You're putting the poor girl under a strain_ ," Simon argued.

"And you're putting my _patience_ under one, Mr. Wodehouse. Either give the girl her injection at a safe distance, or drop the charade and tell your friends how you nearly destroyed her last chance at life by attempting a feeble bait and switch."

Simon angrily hurled the plastic syringe onto the concrete. "It's bloody _saline_ , you insufferable twat!"

"There," Hopewell purred. "Now, _where were we_? Oh yes. _You were surrendering._ "

 _"No, you were going to give Guessica her injection so she doesn't die._ "

"Same thing," Hopewell said with a smile.

"We're not surrendering."

The woman just raised an eyebrow.

Caitlyn clutched my hand tightly.

You might define the next moment as a `Mexican standoff.' We neither moved nor spoke. We just glared at each other.

"You had no right to demolish that theme park," Hopewell said. "You singlehandedly turned Operation Overlock into a catastrophic failure. We gave you a very simple mission: to neutralize an experiment of ours and return to the island, not destroy the most joyful place on the planet."

"Joyful!" I said. "Hah! They were enslaving children! They kept them half naked in cages. They lived in _squalor!_ "

The woman was not moved at all. In fact, she even had an argument prepared. "You exaggerate. They were _interns_. What the company did was completely legal under the United States Constitution. Those children were _fed_ and _clothed_ and _educated._ "

"They were fed _dog food_! Clothed in insect ridden _rags!_ The education only went to the privileged poster children!"

"Why are you telling me this? Do you expect _me_ to do something about it?"

"Yes!" I shouted. "I want you to do something!"

" _Me._ When it is _you_ who originally caused the problem."

 _"I haven't seen you walking on water,"_ I said in a cold tone.

"Regardless of how you perceive my innocence, Ms. Ripley, your logic is faulty. Even if what you're saying is true (and it's not), those children were _alive_. The only thing you brought them was _death._ We gave you the opportunity to care for the children, to maintain their society, to give them the life you thought they deserved, but instead you turned your back on them and slaughtered them wholesale..."

Julia argued with the other Ss'sik'chtokiwij about what to do.

Mark and Luke begged me to allow them to kill the woman, but I said no.

"If you think that children are being mistreated by a company," the woman continued. "There's a _proper judicial process_ that you must go through in order to effect the change. You don't just break into a secured company facility where they're keeping all their valuable assets and kill everyone."

"I'd do what you said," I argued. "But I don't have any rights. I'm technically not a U.S. citizen or even human, and you expect me to just take them on in court? Even if I were a citizen, they have all the money! There's no way I'd even have a chance! They'd _crush me_ in court! What choice did I really have?"

I still failed to ruffle her metaphorical feathers. "I don't know why you're asking me that, Ms. Ripley. I'm not here to discuss politics or philosophy."

"I'm saying this to you because I _can't_ use the judicial process! What I did was completely justified for someone in my situation!"

Giving me a dumb look, she said, "What was?" like I hadn't said anything.

"I was just explaining that I couldn't have gone through the judicial system to stop the abuses of that company. They wouldn't believe me! Even if I had evidence, they have enough money to sue me out of the courtroom! I have no rights!"

"That is no concern to me, Ms. Ripley. What concerns me is how you refuse to cooperate with our Organization, and keep murdering the very children you rescue. Even now, you're putting this one's life in peril, for what?"

"I didn't murder anyone! It's _your organization_ that keeps killing them off simply because I refuse to do what you say!"

" _Fa,_ " Golic said to Guessica, apparently addressing her by her cult name. "You need not fear this woman. If she kills you, Shasharmazorb will bring you back to life in a new body."

"I will not!" Shasharmazorb protested. "Why do you insist on teaching humans this nonsense? _I am not all powerful!_ "

"No," Guessica rasped. "But you _are_ a friend. That's something worth dying for."

"When I die," Guessica said. "I want the Ss'sik'chtokiwij to have my body. They can eat it, or...use it to lay eggs...or anything they want."

"Guessica," I protested. "Don't talk like that."

"What? I'm dying. It would be wasteful not to do something with my body. I mean, it's not like I'll be using it..."

My heart was breaking, but I gave her a slight nod anyway. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

"Yes," said our enemy. _"Let's hope._ "

Hosea crept up on Hopewell, but the woman whirled around to face her. "Back! Unless you want your friend to die!"

Hosea glanced at me and my companions, noting how we were all at a standstill. She shrank back.

Absolute's features hardened. "You heard Guessica. She doesn't want to be a hostage." He pulled back the hammer of his gun.

"Wait," I scolded. "I'm not sure she's old enough to be making a decision like this."

 _"But she's old enough to decide on who to marry,_ " he scoffed.

"I don't want her to die," I whispered.

"I don't either. I'm just saying. It's what she wants."

 _"Does she really,_ " Hopewell said. _"I wonder."_

"If you let her die," I said. "So help me, _I'm going to find a really interesting way to kill you_. It might take _hours_ before you finally stop feeling pain and actually die!"

"Oh? And what does the _Christian warrior_ have planned? _Chopping off my breasts and shoving me in a gas oven?_ "

"Fuck you," I whispered.

"We don't owe you anything, Ms. Ripley. It is _you_ that owe _us_. Acquiring all those interns from Disney was _expensive,_ and you only ended up murdering them all anyway."

 _"I_ didn't murder anyone! It was because of _your greedy money grubbing people_ that those children died, not me! It's like you didn't want to adopt them to begin with, so you did everything within your power to get rid of them instead of treating them like decent human beings! If I knew they'd have to face this kind of genocide, I..."

She gave me an evil smile. "Finish the thought, Ms. Ripley. ` _You wouldn't have bothered.'_ "

"So you admit it's all a scam," I said.

"I admit nothing."

Guessica was having another attack. "Don't give in to her!" she said in shallow breaths. "I've gotten you this far. If I die now, it's really okay. As long as you can...get out of this place. As long..."

She could no longer talk. Her breath was too short.

"Give her the medication," I said. "It's the human thing to do."

 _"So is dropping your weapons and leaving the area."_

I only glared at her.

"I want you to think long and hard about all the mistakes you have made, Ms. Ripley. _It may prove helpful in illuminating the mistake you're about to make right now_.

Due to your reckless actions at that park, you murdered thousands of innocent men, women and children needlessly. What were you thinking? Did you truly believe that because some of them were homosexual, their lives didn't count?"

"Shut up," I snarled. "You weren't there! You didn't lift a finger to help me! It's easy to criticize when you never get your hands dirty!"

"It's not my fault that you refuse to obey. Those children would still be alive if you actually had a conscience and did the right thing."

" _Me?_ Not having a conscience? What do you call your organization's actions? What do you call being their executioner?"

"It is _you_ that are the executioner. We simply gave you an order that you failed to follow. _You knew the consequences_ , and yet you claim that it is our fault."

"We have to do what she says," Pillow urged.

But Ippi replied, "Over my dead body!"

"Ippi!" Camille shouted. "It's a _child!_ "

The three argued in Wava with such intensity and yelling that Sharad got involved and the babies were crying.

Absolute and Bo Peep cast me pleading glances, their expressions as conflicted as mine.

Nonverbally, Absolute seemed to be saying, "We have to give in. I don't want to lose her."

Bo Peep, though, wore an expression that said, "I don't want to lose her either, but we can't give in."

Hopewell paid none of this any attention. "Again, I question the morality, _the justice_ of taking those children out of the Mentorship Program. If you thought they were mistreated by their mentors, _you should have gone through the legal system._ "

"And get it dismissed in court due to trespassing charges?" I shouted. "Or being too far fetched? Didn't you just hear what I told you? I just explained that I am unable to go through the legal system and wouldn't have any success even if it were possible!"

"Your legal standing is of no concern to me, Ms. Ripley. What concerns me is your failure to cooperate with the organization. Why do you keep murdering the children you personally rescued? Why do you make this so difficult?"

Ippi raised her pistol, blowing the woman's brains out.

The vial shattered on the ground.

I screamed in protest.

"You were going in circles. The shithead wasn't going to help you anyway."

Guessica had stopped breathing.

Pillow checked the girl's vitals, performed CPR a few times, then wept. "She's gone!"

I knelt next to the body and tried to cry, but I only felt numb inside. Too many had died already. Now I only felt angry and sick to my stomach.

"She would have killed her anyway," Ippi said. "Sure, she'd be alive for a few days, but then she'd string you along, string you along, and then one day, when you fail to do what she wants, bam. The girl would be dead."

"The carrot and the stick," Zack agreed.

"That wasn't your call to make!" I shouted. "That girl could have _lived!_ "

"Bullshit!" said Ippi. "I _know_ that woman! She only knows how to _take and take and take_ and never give back!"

I gritted my teeth, thinking about what it would be like to murder her.

"In July 1944, Allied bombers dropped tons of explosives and napalm on St. Lo France," Ippi said. "Everyone remembers how it crippled the German armies, but very few ever mention the fact that it also killed thousands of innocent French people, men women and children..."

I glared at her. "What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying I did what had to be done. Glower at me all you want. _This is war_. Am I sorry that a child had to die? Yes, but I'm not sorry about the results. _We have the ship now._ "

"We would have had the ship if we'd let her live!" I yelled. "We could have kept her hostage!"

"She would have kept _you_ hostage. You're very gullible, Ellie. You're a bleeding heart. You let people string you along, promising not to kill people when they just end up doing it anyway. I'm tired of it. In war, there's something called ` _collateral damage'_. You have to _see that_."

"Out!" I yelled, pointing to the door.

She seemed genuinely baffled at my outburst.

"Go! Get out of here! And take your magician boyfriend with you!"

"He's not-!"

"You're off the team," I snapped.

"The fuck?" she cried. "This isn't some fucking varsity girl's cheerleading squad! We're talking about stopping an army of soldiers and getting off the damn planet! _You need me!_ "

 _"I can do without your help,"_ I said, my voice like ice.

"But-!"

"But nothing! You killed her out of cold blooded revenge! You didn't even care about that child!"

"That's not true! I killed that woman because I didn't believe her? Sure, she may promise the goods, but she never upholds her side of the bargain! Check that shit she called medicine! I bet it's nothing but colored sugar water!"

"If she didn't have medication, why the game? Why take Guessica hostage to begin with?"

"I don't know," Pillow said. "Maybe she intended to take Guessica somewhere else in the building where the drugs are being kept?"

"I just don't get it. Why let her come that close to death? She knew we'd shoot her if the girl died!"

"Probably just something to string her along," Ippi suggested. "You know, like the old kinds of chemotherapy and radiation treatment. She might not have died today, but she would have died tomorrow, or a couple hours after we surrendered."

I glared at her.

Pillow knelt beside the shattered vial, dipped a finger into the fluid and licked it.

She frowned. "It's cranberry juice. I'd have to check the ship's medical computer, but I think the only thing in it is blue food dye."

"Why would you put cranberry juice in a syringe?" Ippi asked. "Tell me that? The poor girl wouldn't have been able to taste it!"

I let out a heavy sigh. "All right, Ippi. You stay on the team. But don't you ever think for a second that we're friends. The moment this is over, I don't ever want to see you again."

"I heard you were a _Christian_. What would your _Jesus_ say about this?"

"Seriously?" I said. "You're playing the religion card too? You know, you can only pull that shit so many times before I stop falling for it."

" _The disciples asked Jesus, `How many times should I forgive my brother? Seven times?' Jesus answered them, `I tell you the truth, you are not to forgive them a mere seven times, but seven times seventy.'_

"Okay, so I'm paraphrasing, they could have just said seventy, but I figure, even if you're going by a wooden literalistic interpretation of your own holy text, you still owe me at least sixty eight times, if not 489."

"As much as I hate to say it," Pillow said. "She's right."

I angrily narrowed my eyes. " _We'll see._ "

Pillow mournfully ran her fingers through the dead child's stubbly hair. "They've been using children as test animals. I wouldn't be surprised if that woman offered to cure a disease she caused herself."

I looked away, struggling with my emotions.

Ippi suppressed a chuckle.

I glared. "What."

 _"Hope just died._ "

Through my teeth, I growled, " _You're down to_ f _our hundred eighty._ "

At Pillow's instruction, Bo Peep, Hosea and Sharad carefully wrapped and carried their dead friend's little body into the craft, for storage for later burial. Hopewell's body was shunted off into a corner for the local staff to take care of...if she didn't get eaten first.

Jeremy and Amos kept a lookout at the entrance.

Ssunamrozedrah aimed an assault rifle at the ship, claw edging around the trigger.

I grabbed the muzzle, pointing it at the ceiling. "Whoa. Careful with that. There's enough problems with the ship as it is."

"It's a pacifist piece of trash," Ssunamrozedrah said.

"Perhaps," I agreed. "But it's our only way out."

"I gotta ask you," Moe said to Charon. "What's with the bird fetish?"

She gave Tido a sideways glance. " _I'm trying to lead him astray._ " She lowered her voice. "I'm still not sure if he's into cosplay, or if it's just a kink for spandex and feathers."

Moe grimaced. "That's not something I particularly wanted to hear about."

 _"You asked._ "

Glancing at the alien sofa, I noticed that Camille had found a children's bible. I watched as she showed Nate the pictures, reading it in Wava and English. Julia, Mark and Lammy listened appreciatively.

"Were the Nazis really a Christian organization?" Caitlyn asked me. "I know they tell me that all the time at school, and in the movies, but there's a lot they don't tell me."

"I don't know," I said. "But if they were, they were bad Christians, like the ones in the Inquisition. It doesn't mean that Christianity is bad. That's throwing the baby out with the bath water."

I gathered my team together: Ssunamrozedrah, Golic, Charon, Ellie 2, Tido, Moe, Lammy, Julia and Mark. I told Ippi and Zack to stay behind and help the others.

"I believe you still require the assistance of _individuals of a certain talent,"_ Simon said. To illustrate, he conjured up a lockpick, then made it disappear.

I nodded. "All right, but everyone else stays."

I turned to face the others. "All of you should know the plan. Guard the ship. Do what you can to get it running. If we're not back with Ernie within ten minutes of the time it's fixed, then go without us."

"I'm not leaving without my granddaughter!" Shasharmazorb snarled.

"You want to stay here?" I shouted. "In that dank cell where no one talks to you?... _I'm offering you freedom_ , Shasharmazorb. You get out of this place, you find a way off this rock, and you let me worry about Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik."

Shasharmazorb growled at me, threatening to strike.

"We came too far to give in now. You need to get that ship into space. Get to Pathilon. I'll do what I can to free Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, and bring her here to you, or die trying."

"I draw the line at the dying part," said Simon. "A magician prefers to _cheat death._ And I appreciate a good challenge."

Pillow dug a device out of a crack in the organic furniture piece, handing it to me. "Here. Take this. If we get separated, you should be able to look me up from several locations in space."

"That lady said the ship was missing a piece," said Sharad. "You want us to go look for it?"

I frowned. It seemed I hadn't thought through all the details of this plan carefully enough. "Uh, first I'd like you to get this thing as ship shape as you can. Find out what's missing,and fix whatever can be fixed."

Pillow nodded. "The algae system definitely has to be checked. We need an oxygen supply."

"Great," I said. "Take however long you need with that. I'm guessing it'll be at least ten to twenty minutes, right?"

The Abreya nodded. _"If I were being optimistic._ "

"So that's probably a ten to twenty minute inspection."

"More or less, likely more."

"Try to put a rush on it. They have an army bigger than ours. Half an hour, tops, if you can. If I'm not there at minute forty, go after the parts as a group. Nobody stays behind. If they screw with the Iberet, get the hell out of there. Grab a plane, fly into the jungle, fly to Australia, whatever. Just get out of there."

"You should find a good cave," Moe added. "In case they start carpet bombing."

"I can fix the communication system," said Sharad. "That way we can notify you once we've found what's missing."

"Good. I hope you can."

I gave Caitlyn a hug. "I want you to stay close to the others, okay? Especially Shasharmazorb, Luke and the Ss'sik'chtokiwij. They'll protect you. No heroics. I want you to stay alive."

"I don't want you to go, mommy," Caitlyn whimpered. "Can't I please come along?"

"I don't want anyone to use you as a hostage. We already got in trouble before. Stay here. I'll come back for you as soon as I can."

Small tears rolled down her cheeks. "But you told them to go without you."

I rubbed her stubbly head. "I'll come back for you, Caitlyn. Even if I don't make it the first time, I'll find a way."

"Promise?"

I nodded. "Pillow gave me her communicator. I'm sure we can video conference, if nothing else. I'll steal the nearest spaceship and I'll come flying back to you like Superman."

She smiled a little at this, possibly thinking of me in a cape.

I gestured to Camille and Shasharmazorb. "And in the meantime, you can live with your _aunt_ , and... _grandma._ "

She stared at me. "If everything works out, are you going to marry Pillow?"

I laughed. "I don't think any of us would like that, most definitely not she or her husband. But I'd pretty much want to kiss everybody, if we can get out of this thing alive."

"Shouldn't we find this ship piece first, then go after your friend?" Ippi asked. "I mean, what point is there to a rescue if we can't get out?"

I glanced back at Shasharmazorb. The Ss'sik'chtokiwij wasn't going to take no for an answer. I'd deferred her hopes for too long. "We'll leave this place, one way or another. There are _hangars_. We'll steal a plane if we have to. The important thing is getting Ernie back to us."

"This is bullshit," said Ippi. "Even once we know _what's_ missing, we still don't know _where_ the fuck it is!"

 _"I believe I have an idea,"_ said Simon.

He marched to the entrance, calling down the hallway. "Mara! _Would you be so kind...?_ "

A moment later, a female android calmly strolled into the room. Caucasian, blonde, gray jumpsuit, hair up in a ponytail. The same model as the one Big Bird used to occupy.

I stared. "How long have you been out there?"

"That is unimportant," the android said. "I believe you require assistance?"

"We met in the hallway," the magician explained.

I asked the robot, "Do you know what parts are missing?"

"I will need to interface with the system and run a complete diagnostic to fully assess the situation, but it is likely that power elements have been removed."

"Any ideas about where they have been taken?"

"Restricted data files indicate that items of a classified nature have been moved into the labyrinth at the end of corridor 17B, the same general area in which Shasharmazorb has been, in the past, imprisoned."

"That's it," Ippi said. "I'm going."

"The devices are hidden within a complicated security system involving dangerous weaponry," Mara said. "You may require a small army."

Ippi swallowed. "I'll take my chances." She glanced at the rest of my team. "Who's with me?"

"We can't afford the manpower," I said. "We need a solid defense around the ship!"

"Fine," she groaned. "I'll go by myself. It's obvious you don't want me here anyway. Happy?"

I sighed. "No. But if you feel it's something you have to do...don't get killed."

 _"Thanks,"_ she said with a look of disdain.

She turned to face Mara. "You're the one who mentioned the labyrinth. Show me where to look."

"We can't risk her falling into enemy hands," I said. "Plus she still has to run diagnostics and do repairs. See if she can find some paper around here and draw you a map."

Being an android, Mara was able to whip out several maps in the space of a minute, like a humanoid laser printer.

Noticing my concerned expression, Ippi said, "Don't worry. I'll give you a good ten, maybe more. I doubt this will be a cake walk."

"How do we know we can trust this android?" Absolute asked.

I shrugged. "She helped us in the past, with the Yaotija ship."

"That doesn't tell me anything."

Big Bird materialized in front of me. "Mara has been a good friend and ally throughout my time on this planet, and others. Being an independent synthetic human with emotions, she would never betray Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik"

Mara nodded. "I only want what's best for her. Socialization with others of her species is essential for her development. The habitat established by this organization is inadequate. I would like to introduce her to a better location."

"We'll do our best to help," said Absolute.

Bo Peep nodded in agreement.

"Is it okay if I take a nap?" Shasharmazorb asked.

I shrugged. "Only if you can wake up fast."

"We can sleep in turns," Amos said.

"Yes," said Jeremy. "They call it `catnip.'"

"I could use a `catnip' myself," Ellie 2 joked.

I rolled my eyes. "We can all rest once this is over."

"Hopefully not in coffins, twin."

I sighed.

The Abreya took the map and rushed out into the hallway. Mr. Hattam gave me an apologetic shrug and followed her.

"Do you know where I can find Sil's other kid? Matthew?"

"I'm sorry," Mara said. "He is not at this location. He has been placed aboard the USM Auriga, along with some other exotic specimens."

Picking up my suitcase and weapons, I gathered the rescue team together, hurrying to the stairs at the end of the corridor, which, according to Pillow, was the shortest route.

When I reached the stairwell door, I found it locked

"We will accompany you," Big Bird said. "Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik is my friend too."

"Thank you," I said.

She proved herself useful right away by popping the lock.

We rushed up a set of fire stairs, and immediately found ourselves under attack, men in U.S. army uniforms unleashing a barrage of ammunition. A man in a gorilla suit stood in between them with an AK-47, adding to the rain of bullets.

Pushing Pillow to the rear, we returned fire, clearing the stair in a couple minutes. The Ss'sik'chtokiwij darted beneath our enemies' legs, undermining their attacks.

I noticed Golic and Tido weren't the best shots, favoring knives, but they did okay, and Charon's marksmanship filled the gaps.

All clear except for the man in the costume. He ran up a floor and kept firing bursts over the railing.

Lammy dove into one of the corpses, chowing down, but Julia scolded her.

"It's okay," I groaned. "We're in a war, and that's an enemy combatant."

Lammy growled and shook her head. "Human morality is _so_ confusing."

We rushed to snatch up the dead soldiers' weaponry, but the moment my twin reached for a rifle, Ape Man blasted at us. He was at a perfect position for sniping - plenty of concrete, and a clear view of the weapons.

"The itsy bitsy spider climbed up the water spout..." he sang in a loud voice, firing off another burst. "Down came the rain and washed the spider out-"

A dull green ball came bouncing down the stairs.

"Grenade!" Moe yelled.

I expected the grenade to explode and kill someone, and block our pathway up the stairs, but a second after it dropped, a quick moving brown shape whipped in between us, snatched up the explosive, and threw it down the hallway outside.

I had told Hosea to stay behind with the others, but it was hard to tell her to do anything.

I heard a muffled explosion. The lights in the stairwell dimmed.

"Please tell me she didn't throw that at the ship," Moe said.

"She pitched left," said Ellie 2. "It's in a connecting corridor. We should be fine."

"All right," I said. "Forget the guns for a moment. Let's rush this guy."

We did just that, quickly dashing up the steps with guns blazing. We didn't kill the guy, but our advance gave us some of us room to collect the weapons, and a slamming door indicated Mr. Gorilla had chosen to flee and possibly alert his superiors instead of staying to fight.

I turned to face Pillow. "What floor is Ernie being held at?"

"It was the fourth, the last time I checked. Of course, that was before _the_ _crash_ , and _my accommodations were upgraded._ "

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij snatched parts off our victims, nibbling them on the go. I pretended not to notice Golic taking knives to the victims, hacking off `extra treats' for them.

"Should I grab something too, mommy?" Mark asked.

"I'd prefer if you didn't."

No longer delayed by those lacking physical endurance, we made it to the fourth floor in record time.

Unfortunately, the moment we opened that security door, we were greeted by a midget with a hand cranked Gatling gun. Moe barked the order to fall back right when the barrels turned, spewing fire and bullets.

We lay flat against the stairwell, watching the metal door shake and develop slight blisters as bullets popped into it.

"Great," Ellie 2 groaned. "Now what."

We crept back down the stairs, and the firing stopped.

Simon pulled a collapsible tophat out of his pocket, popping it out with the end of a rifle. He used it to do that old cowboy trick, cracking the door and holding it out to see how much it got shot up.

It came back looking like Swiss cheese.

Through the crack in the door, I could see soldiers running up the adjacent corridor, getting ready to shoot us from the other side.

At the head, I saw a green clad man with a neatly trimmed mustache.

"Got anything we can use as a screen?" I asked.

Simon shook his head. "I'm afraid I used up all my smoke."

He pulled a rubber duck out of his pocket. "But I do have _this._ "

It was one of those novelty horned ducks. I rolled my eyes. " _A bath toy._ "

With an air of false modesty, the magician said, _"I may have given it a slight upgrade._ "

He plugged the duck's rear end with a pointed bolt, firing it from his crossbow.

The moment the toy hit the floor, its wings popped open and a ton of whistling screaming firecrackers exploded from its interior.

Its eyes flashed with demonic light as its beak flapped open and closed, and evil sounding quacking laugh bubbling out its neck.

The mustachioed soldier took one look at the plastic bird and threw his weapon down, running away from us with a scream.

"Duck!" Moe called after him.

A pair of the man's companions blew the duck to tiny bits while the others took shots at us. We returned fire the best we could from the lip of the staircase.

I urged Mark, Julia and Lammy to rush those soldiers while we provided cover.

Thanks to their small quick moving bodies, and Mark's spines, we eliminated the infantry without opening the door wide enough for the midget to hit us.

Abalardo gave us a friendly wave, and the power went out.

"Let's go," Moe said. "Before the little imp finds a flashlight."

My friends didn't need to see that well in the dark to know what direction to stumble into to avoid the Gatling gun. The door had clicked closed and the red emergency lights had switched on before the weapon's whirring cylinders came back to life again.

Moe strafed around the corner with the machine gun in the dim light. I heard a shriek and the Gatling gun went silent.

The hallways appeared to be empty.

"Where to now?" I asked Pillow.

She pointed to the third door to the right of me. We rushed there in a hurry.

The moment I came within a foot of the door, Josh materialized in front of me, blocking the security panel.

Moe slapped in a fresh clip, pointing his rifle at the boy. "Out of our way, runt. _You and Ellie aren't exactly buds anymore, so she might give me the go-ahead, if you really piss us off._ "

 _"Good luck getting in there,"_ he answered in a belligerent tone.

"Luck will have nothing to do with it. We're getting in there, one way or another."

"I'm afraid not."

Simon pulled a radio out of his pocket, clicking a button. "Children, you may come out now."

"Wait," I said. "You said that thing was broken."

 _"I lied._ "

I heard the beeping of security locks on doors, then watched with dismay as a large group of children with shaved heads and gray clothing came marching out, armed with knives and guns.

"What is this!" Golic said. "Those are my people!"

"Not anymore."

The children pointed their weapons at us.


	65. Chapter 65: The POW

It was like Purple Rat's camp all over again. Armed children turning weapons on us. Some insane board leader trying to recreate the horrors of Vietnam.

"Infidels!" Golic yelled.

Simon smiled. "I told them you intended to abandon them."

Golic spread his arms like a reverend giving a blessing. "Then come to me, all of you. I will continue to be your leader, but Shasharmazorb must go free."

"I will go too," Tido said. "If it means freedom for Shasharmazorb."

"I'm afraid it's more complicated than that," Simon said. "They aren't your followers anymore. You see, these children have sworn allegiance to the Organization. The Board has offered them a very good arrangement in exchange for their dutiful cooperation."

Golic pointed his weapon at one of the shaved headed boys. "I'll kill them!"

"No," I said. "There has been enough abuse inflicted on these children from adults around here."

"Then _let us_ kill them," said Lammy.

"Wait," I said. "Not yet."

Mark, Hosea and Julia faced our enemies threateningly, eager to strike.

I heard Pillow uttering prayers in Wava. I let her continue. Prayer at this time was something we all desperately needed.

Ssunamrozedrah growled. "They use weakling children to do their dirty work. There is no honor in this."

"In case you're wondering," Wodehouse said. "I _did_ have something to do with your previous security arrangements, not so much your twin, though I _did_ present the _illusion_ that she was the responsible party. I also may have had greater ease in acquiring materials than previously stated."

"Why?" I said. "What motive would you have to betray us? Don't you want out of this place too?"

" _In addition to my freedom_ , they offered me a lucrative incentive for my business interests," the man said. "New contracts. I would be remiss to pass it up."

"Are we going to kill these children?" Charon asked me.

I shook my head.

The air shimmered, and five soldiers in green uniforms joined the gang of children, pointing rifles and Yaotija blasters at us, apparently camouflaged up to this point, by alien technology. A figure in a red jumpsuit appeared with them, Mr. Sloan.

"I'm sorry," said Simon. "This is where your mission ends."

He glanced at one of the soldiers. "You can remove that ridiculous disguise, Mr. Hattam. You're not fooling anyone."

One of the `soldiers' had a false nose, glasses, beard and mustache. I had been momentarily convinced by it until the `stranger' removed the articles.

"Where's Ippi?" I asked the now undisguised magician.

Zack frowned. "She's a little busy right now. She sent me up here to help."

I rolled my eyes. " _You're doing a great job so far!_ "

Simon cleared his throat, casually strolling from person to person in my little militia.

"I'd like to thank you for eliminating the competition. You have simplified the route to the upper echelons of the organization, permitting us much freer access to the associated promotions."

"You can leave now," said Mr. Sloan. "You played a good game, but now it's time to pack up."

"We're not leaving," I said. "You can't scare us with a few kids and soldiers."

"No?" said the man. "How about this?"

He took a little black box out of his pocket, holding it aloft. "This is the detonator to a radio controlled explosive set up in your alien friend's room. One push of the button and he'll be nothing but a smoldering pile of goop." His finger hovered over the button. "Turn back around, unless you want him dead."

"Ernie is a _she_ ," said my twin.

The man didn't acknowledge this with a reply.

"Another hostage," my twin growled. "This is getting old real fast."

"No kidding," said Moe. "Two steps forward, one step back. It's like some stupid board game."

Disheartened, I gestured to the stairs. "C'mon. Let's go."

"Not so fast," said Simon. " _Your weapons, please._ "

I set mine down. My twin and Moe did the same.

Ssunamrozedrah, however, refused to surrender hers.

I tapped her shoulder plate, shaking my head. "We're not done yet. We'll have to figure this out some other way."

"What about the queen?" Ellie 2 asked. "She's going to be _pissed!_ "

"Your little army downstairs is surrounded," Mr. Sloan said. "Their weapons are depleted. We have flame throwers and armor piercing ammunition. Even your alien pals will be facing impossible odds. You're going to have to tell them to stand down too."

I laughed. "I'll believe that when I see it."

In Ss'sik'chtokiwij I told Ssunamrozedrah, "Drop the weapon. We'll figure something out."

She, Golic, Charon and Tido placed their weapons on the ground.

"See?" Sloan said, putting his hand on Josh's shoulder. "That wasn't so hard."

"You had this planned from the beginning, haven't you?" I asked Mr. Wodehouse.

The magician shrugged.

"All right," I said to my team. "Let's go."

"Not so fast," Wodehouse said.

He gestured to the soldiers and just about everyone with humanoid limbs was handcuffed.

"How are we going to tell anyone to stand down if we're cuffed?" I protested.

 _"You'll have an escort."_

To Sloan, I said, "I'll go talk to my people."

Miyata's `husband' caressed Josh's shoulders. "I'm counting on it. You did well, Ellen. You nearly pulled it off. You'll be a big help to the Organization."

He nonchalantly slid his hand lower, to the back of Josh's pants. "You'll win us a lot of wars. Make a lot of money for us."

Josh's eyes narrowed. He tensed up, but didn't say anything.

"Just remember who's in charge here," the man continued, acting like it were completely normal to touch a boy in this way. Perhaps it was - for him, popular psychology, and the world.

His hand slipped under Josh's waistband, leading the boy to do what was most natural to him:

He whipped a pistol out of his front pocket, stuck it into the bottom of Sloan's chin and blew off the top of the man's skull.

Hey, I guess `that's just how both of them were made', right?

Zack took advantage of the moment of stunned silence.

Due to a lack of foresight on the part of our captors, Mr. Hattam now shook his handcuffs to the concrete with a dramatic clatter. "You guys have to stop buying these things from toy stores. _It's pathetic!_ "

He rushed to the dead body, snatching up the detonator.

Josh whipped the gun around, aiming it at his uncle. "What are you doing! Put that down!"

"You'd shoot your own uncle?" the magician said, waving around the device. "With _this_ in my hand?" He quickly stepped behind a soldier. "Hey, _Big Butt_. You absolutely positive you reprogrammed that detonator?"

"Must you continually mispronounce my name?" a voice answered from the watch. "It is very rude."

"Sorry," Zack groaned. " _Did you...?_ "

"Yes. The device has been reprogrammed."

The magician pressed the button.

"What!" I cried. "Hey!"

Instead of an explosion, I saw all the cell doors sliding open, the occupants marching into the open, much to the astonishment and terror of the army that kept us prisoner.

Sadly, Ernie's cell hadn't been included in the unlocking. The path to our prisoner remained obstructed with the machinations of security, a metaphorical Fort Knox amidst a scattering of weaker `small time banks.' The Organization knew we were coming and had made the appropriate preparations.

Things happened so quickly after that, that I find it a little hard to describe everything I saw. _You wouldn't believe_ half of it.

A child flew up in the air, raised by some invisible force, her machine gun tearing through one of the adult soldiers. 

Some kind of werewolf attacked from the other side. Children screamed and ran away from it in a hurry.

I saw a girl with no face, a hairless half human rabbit thing, and a Great Pyrenees with a frog's tongue that shot out and sucked its victims into a mouth full of shark's teeth.

Experiments, aliens, mutants, things that defy reason. They burst from their prisons, viciously attacking and destroying anything and anyone that got in their way. Honestly, not the safest place you could be.

It was a god thing that our enemies did most of the shooting - the things from the cells didn't appreciate such a show of force, and took the brunt of their violence out on their attackers.

I and my twin melted our cuffs off. Zack helped the rest of my team out of theirs.

"Take your alien friend and go," Josh snarled at me.

I picked up the ID badge from Mr. Sloan's body, swiped it in the scanner, but the device flashed red and made an angry beeping noise.

"Someone up top has shut off security access," said Moe.

"I'd help you," Pillow said. "But they took my badge and security access too."

"Fuck, must I do everything?" Josh complained.

He tried his own card, but that didn't work either. He swore. "Open your suitcase."

I did what he said, and he took out the Rook playing card, peeling off the backing.

Sandwiched in between the layers of paperboard laminate, I saw a thin piece of something that looked like cellophane. This item he stuck to the ID badge I'd originally found in the Raggedy Ann doll, swiping it through the scanner.

He used the underlined parts in the pocket bible to type in the code.

"You're the Rook, aren't you?" I asked.

"I'm not talking to you," Josh answered. "You're going to get your alien, and you're going to leave before I change my mind."

A panel popped open, revealing a thumb scanner and a retinal scanner. "Shit. I forgot about that."

Big Bird beamed her holographic avatar in front of him. "Recalibrating security system..."

She bobbed back and forth for a moment, as if dancing to unheard music. A pair of holographic clock gears floated and turned next to her head.

The hallway was clearing out now, the prisoners breaking down the staircase doors, fighting soldiers and themselves to escape.

Of course, not everyone left. A group of children had congregated around Golic, shooting at the children who didn't.

And there were monsters.

"Can we hurry this up?" Moe shouted as he shot bullets into a woman shaped fungus creature.

Ssunamrozedrah picked up a flame thrower from one of the dead kids, firing bursts at it until it shrank back. "I concur! Time is essential!"

The gears vanished from the air around Big Bird's head. " _Recalibration complete._ You may enter the cell."

Josh scanned his thumb and eye and the door popped open.

"I'll guard the door," said Moe.

I, Julia, Mark and Pillow rushed inside, staring through bulletproof glass at the prison my friend had occupied for these long months.

The young Ss'sik'chtokiwij queen had amassed quite a library. Bible dictionaries, concordances, the works of Josephus, every book by C.S. Lewis, a few by Hank Hanegraaf, Franklin and Billy Graham, ...mostly religious books, but secular works of literature as well...Shakespeare, Dickens, Jack London, Jules Verne...

It seemed she had also been busy in the world of art, her chamber filled with paintings, textile works of various kinds, drawings, etchings...a digital photo display explained how she acquired her source material - she couldn't go outside and paint a landscape, you understand.

The dark shape of her back shadowed the glass I stared through. Over her shoulder, I could see she'd gotten a quarter into the first Left Behind novel.

All of a sudden, she growled and hurled the book at a wall, knocking down a painting of the Crater Lakes. "And they printed twenty six sequels!" she complained. " _Humans._ "

"You shouldn't have come here," I heard Ernie saying through the glass.

"We've come to rescue you," I said. "Your grandmother is downstairs and your niece is outside the door. We're getting out of here, Ernie."

"Hi, Cousin Ernie!" Mark cried with excitement. "Mommy told me so much about you!"

"Who is that?" asked Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik.

I introduced Mark to her.

"Let's go, Ernie!" Mark shouted.

Ernie didn't move. "How many people died because of me?"

"That's not important," I said. "The important thing is that we came all this way to free you, and we're going to get you out of here."

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij spun around and slammed her fists against the window so suddenly that I gasped in fright. "Not important! Who are you to say that a human life isn't important! Nothing could be more important than the saving of an intelligent soul, whether human, Abreya, Yaotja or Ss'sik'chtokiwij!" she backed away with a sigh. "You should have left things alone. God uses a Christian powerfully, wherever they are."

"By that same token, it wouldn't matter if I took you out of here."

"The apostle Paul _wrote epistles_ from prison! His presence in jail, his model behavior whilst in prison, it led many to convert, even the jailers themselves! By murdering those that imprison me, you obstruct the saving work of God! You deny God's children his saving grace forever! Their souls are forever lost!

"If you had but left things as they were, _I could have reached them_! _You come to me begging forgiveness for a murder, then you turn around and murder countless others!_ Leave me! You are standing in the way of God!"

Her blank face turned toward Julia. "Daughter, although I am always pleased to see you, this is not the way."

Julia growled.

My face flushed red. " _How dare you tell me to leave_! _I risked death_ to get you out of here! Your grandmother is going to kill us all if you don't come with us! Are you really that eager to give up and let these _bastards_ cut you open like some overglorified frog, a pathetic cow eyeball in a damned unimportant kid's science class?"

"If the Lord wills me to stay here, I will stay!" she growled. "The saving work of God is not done here!"

"That's just it! Maybe it's not God's will for you to stay! There was a story about a man and a flood:

"People warned the man to leave his home, but he said he was waiting for a sign from God. The place flooded, and a guy in a boat came by, offering to help him leave. The man said no, he was waiting for an angel to help him. The flood waters rose, and he was forced up on his roof. A guy in a helicopter lowered a ladder, but the man refused to take it. He said he was waiting for a miracle. The man drowned.

"When he went to heaven, he asked God why He let him die, and why He hadn't sent any signs and miracles or angels. God said, `Well, I sent people to warn you, then a guy in a boat, and finally a helicopter...'"

 _"Readers Digest philosophies,"_ Ernie grumbled.

"Stop being silly and come out of there!" Pillow demanded. "Remember Acts 12. The Angel of the Lord freed the apostle from prison and told him to take his things and flee. He didn't stay with the jailers, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik! _He actually left the place and went to his friends' house!_ "

Julia nodded. "She is right, mother. We are angels here to rescue you."

Ernie sighed and bowed her head. "What you say has merit, but you must understand that whenever I think I have achieved my freedom, something always happens which lands me into a prison again. It seems it is not the Lord's will for things to happen otherwise."

"Even if that's true," I said quickly. "Maybe you'll get to witness to someone else, meet someone else in a different prison. Let's worry about that later."

I ran the badge through the card scanner. "What was that code again?"

Pillow frowned. "I...don't remember. Don't you have the book?"

"No."

I smacked my head against the door in frustration. Now I'd never get into Ernie's room. I felt like _Alice in Wonderland_ , stuck with a key when she was too big to fit in the door, then without the key when she got smaller. It made me want to cry, just like her. Of course, I was just about out of tears.

What could I really do, though? Go back out and beg Josh to help me yet again?

"How does your cell open?"

"It's rather complicated," Ernie answered. "It requires a special card, a palm print scan and a button code."

 _"Duh! I know all that!"_ I groaned. "What's the code?"

"Don't you know it?"

"No..."

"Who's being ridiculous now? _Pillow_ is with you! She certainly knows the code better than I!"

"Sorry, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik," said the Abreya. "I no longer have security access."

"I'd be happy to assist you," Big Bird said through an intercom on the outer door.

A second later, the power went out.

Big Bird said, "Please scan your card and enter your keycode now."

"I don't know the code," I said.

"I have reinstated Pillow's old security code and palmprint. Please swipe your badge, enter the code and press your palm to the scanner now."

I handed Pillow the keycard, and she did what the AI said. To my delight, the door actually opened.

"C'mon," I shouted to the Ss'sik'chtokiwij. "Let's go."

"Not without my digital camera," she called back.

I rolled my eyes. "Seriously?"

"I also need my sewing kit and my computer bible..."

"Is this the same Jesus loving alien I spoke to before, or are you some kind of lookalike impostor?"

The Israelites in the time of Exodus, despite being in a great hurry to flee Pharaoh, still had enough time to carry off wealth from the people of Egypt."

"I think you should go by that epistle about the Olympic runner throwing every weight aside, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik," Pillow said.

"Perhaps you are right."

Ernie hurried out, bearing only a sewing kit with pictures of Lost in Space on the lid.

Pillow patted Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik on the shoulder plate. "It's good to see you again, Sister Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik. Have they been treating you well?"

"I have learned to be content in all circumstances," Ernie replied.

We closed the cell, opened the outer door, and rushed to join our team. It was a tight squeeze, getting an alien of her newly enlarged size out of that door, but we managed.

Tido knelt before our rescued alien friend. "My Lord, you honor me with your glorious presence!"

Ernie growled in annoyance.

"What did you think of my performance?" Simon asked me as I came out. "Convincing, wasn't I?"

I punched him in the stomach.

"Perhaps I dramatized overmuch," he grunted, doubled over in pain.

There would have been a heartfelt reunion at this point, but we came out in a war zone, so the Ss'sik'chtokiwij ended up just giving curt nods and quick nuzzles to their liberated relative.

Unsurprisingly, Josh had disappeared.

We still had children firing at us from the cover of various cell doors, the fungus thing had not gone away, and the Great Pyrenees was running around with its maw dripping with blood.

The cult kids that stayed by Golic's side had all been mowed down by various things, a half devoured carcass there, a fungal cocooned body there, a bullet ridden corpse in between.

A half human squirrel thing latched onto my twin's arm, attempting to bite it off, but the other Ellie hit her in the temple with a hammerfist, and the creature fell down in temporary repose.

Charon was fighting what I could only describe as a wolf man. Julia and Lammy dodged bullets from a slender woman with cockroach-like attributes and a chitinous body, and Mark flew at the attacking soldiers and the enemy children, turning them into pincushions.

Simon shot one of them with a flaming crossbow bolt. It seemed he had done some William Tell routines, for the man was a dead shot.

Meanwhile, that faceless white alien thing we'd seen in the arena and other death traps now gripped Hosea around the neck. It split its face open, revealing a mouth full of jagged teeth, preparing to rip the poor woman's flesh off her body.

Zack threw a stink bomb at the creature and it gagged and stumbled back, its body steaming and smoking as it fell on the floor. In seconds, its head dissolved into a puddle of smoking foam.

"Damn!" I cried. "What did you put in that thing?"

"Just ordinary sulfur," he said with a shrug. "I guess that thing's allergic to stuff that smells like rotten eggs."

When he finally noticed me and my little group (he'd been too busy shooting the enemy), Moe cried, "Ellie! Thank God! Let's go!"

As we neared the stairs, I heard a woman's voice saying, "Oh look who it is! The scatterbrained alien that conveniently forgot all my food orders!"

I looked around, but saw nobody.

"I'm sorry," said Pillow. "I didn't mean to ruin things for you. I didn't exactly come here to be a waitress."

"No one does," the voice sighed.

I still saw no one. "Where are you?"

"You're looking at me."

"I don't see anything."

"That's because I'm stuck in an in-between place. Not important. Just help me out of here."

"What will you do then?" Pillow asked.

"I'd hope for a cure, but that's unlikely. Just get me off the grounds and I'll be okay."

"You never did tell me your name," said Pillow.

"Felicia," the voice answered.

"Are you a...ghost?" I ventured.

Felicia laughed. "It's difficult to say, but I sure as hell hope not. If this is the afterlife, it really sucks!"

"If you were a ghost," Pillow said. "You wouldn't have been trapped in that cell. Or hungry."

"True...of course my cell is sort of an _Ecto Containment Unit..._ "

"You're talking about that thing from _Ghostbusters_ , right?" Moe asked.

"Sort of. At any rate, we need to get out of here before this ghost gets busted again."

I threw open the door to the staircase, and my infrared caught a female body rushing past. "Hey! Wait!"

The red blob stopped at the top of the stairs. "So you can see me, huh?"

I nodded.

She came back, waved a hand in front of my face, then gave me the finger."

 _"Be nice,"_ I said.

"Oh my God!" she giggled. "Can you see _this?_ "

I saw her waving an appendage that appeared to be a tail.

 _"Yeah...?"_

"What color is my shirt?"

"You're not wearing any clothes," I answered.

The red shape put its hands on its hips. _"So you can't see everything._ "

"It's infrared," I said. "It's not a fashion show."

"I guess that explains why they caught me...You keep very odd friends, you know that?"

"They won't keep much longer if we don't hustle," Moe said, stomping down the stairs. He waved his gun, indicating for the rest of us to follow.

"Are you an Abreya?" I asked the invisible one as we hurried down the stairs.

"Not everything with a tail is a creature from space," she said.

The Organization had anticipated our next move. As we came to the third floor landing, a group of soldiers burst through a door, firing shots at us.

"It's like the bastards read our mind!" Ellie 2 gasped as she fired down at them.

"It's easy to read minds when you limit the options," Zack said. "They knew we wouldn't take the elevator."

We found our way down the various levels by gun, projectile and claw, our invisible ally using soldiers as a shield against friendly fire (I and Ellie 2 were the only ones who knew where not to aim), or throwing them off railings. Not as difficult as it sounds, since the released prisoners had torn through several of them, the mangled bodies in green uniforms strewn all over the steps.

At times the bodies became so numerous that we came close to tripping over them and falling headlong down to the next floor. Ernie was, of course, horrified, saying little prayers on behalf of the dead every few steps.

When we stormed through the door at the bottom, we were greeted by the dress wearing `wife' of Jimmy Hampton and that blonde chick that used to get on TV reading news reports to the fake Homeschoolers that had tried to kill us.

It appeared as if the two had originally been guarded by a gang of soldiers, but, judging by the gory carnage of the surrounding area, the escaped prisoners had made short work of them.

"Step aside, news lady," Moe said. "My trigger finger is itchy."

The woman raised her hands in surrender. "A moment of your time...?"

Moe marched closer. "Thanks, but we don't want what you're selling."

He clubbed her with the stock of his gun, dropping her to the pavement. `Mrs. Hampton' followed suit.


	66. Chapter 66: Labyrinth

It turned out that the damage from the grenade was more or less what Ellie 2 had surmised. The explosion closed off a corridor, but it wasn't the one we needed to use.

Sadly, the limbs and heads of two blonde girls could be seen poking out of the rubble.

Collateral damage. The term still didn't set well with me.

When I gave the bodies a second glance, I felt even worse.

These weren't the soldier types.

They were identical twins.

In fact, they reminded me of that little girl with cancer that had originally led me to the Iberet.

Pillow stifled a sob.

"C'mon," I said. "Let's get back to the team."

I looked around, but couldn't see Felicia's heat signature anywhere. It seemed she had escaped the `in-between place' or whatever she'd been stuck in.

Unless she'd gotten sidetracked somewhere. I asked Pillow about it.

"She's very independent," she said. "She told me not to worry about it, and that she had to `see a man about a dog.'"

Moe shrugged. "One less body to retrieve."

A quarter of the way down the corridor, we got stopped by a small company of what I could only describe as `trainees.' "Desert Storm nerds," Moe called them.

They wore desert camo, their bodies loaded down with so much tactical paraphenalia that they looked like movie characters rather than someone sent to secure a hospital corridor. They couldn't shoot worth a damn, either. We took them out and rushed to the spaceship hangar.

Bo Peep and Absolute broke out in cheers when they saw me returning with Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik. Golic and Tido recited religious litanies.

Tido stared at the sewing kit. "What do you have with you, my Lord? Holy relics?"

"Yes," she answered in a falsely somber tone. "My most holy needlepoint tools, some colored pencils and paint brushes."

Forced laughter. "You jest, my Lord."

Ernie grinned. "Yes."

To me, she said, "Where did you find this ridiculous man?"

I pointed at Golic. " _The Ridiculous Man Store._ "

I couldn't see her rolling her eyes, but the movement of her head, neck and shoulder plates conveyed the emotion. "Did you find all my children?"

"All but one," I said. "Also, Matthew is gone. They have them aboard a space station."

"A pity," she sighed.

"We'll find a way to rescue them later. First we need to get out of this place."

The Iberet had not moved. Although comforted by the fact that my team had not left without me, it also meant, unhappily, that the necessary repairs had not been made.

The area looked clearer now, several objects that had once occupied the floor now moved to the interior of the craft. Golic, Tido, Bo Peep, Moe, Absolute and Charon kept watch at the entrance. The others appeared to be inside.

Caitlyn rushed up to me, giving me a hug. "Mommy, you're back! I was so worried!"

I rubbed her head. "That's right, Caitlyn. We made it. The only thing left to do is fix the ship. and get out of here."

While Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik nuzzled up against her long lost grandmother, her daughters and her niece, I marched into Pillow's ship and hunted down Mara.

Desperately lonely, Mark and Luke followed close at my heels.

In our absence, Sharad had been busily examining the various compartments in the bulkheads, floors and ceiling, taking inventory.

There wasn't much to list. The Organization had removed a great deal of the material, leaving mostly ordinary commonplace items, paperback novels, CD's, board games, frozen beef patties, institutional sized bags of rice and big cans of vegetables.

That being said, when I boarded, I still found her occupied with the task.

"Would you like something to eat?" Pillow called from the kitchen area. " _We have some supplies..._ Everyone who stayed got a little already, except the Ss'sik'chtokiwij, of course." A look of distaste crossed her features. "They had the bodies from the hallway."

I shook my head. "Thank you, but we have no time for a picnic. Maybe if you had a granola bar or something."

Pillow frowned. "Nothing that convenient, I'm afraid. _Kigo._ "

I really hadn't had the luxury to explore every inch of the vehicle before. I'd been too worried about being caught to get a good look at anything. Also, in my absence, someone had tidied up, making the place more home-like. The sofa thing had been fastened onto a once barren section of the floor, several cabinets replaced in the walls. It was a different place.

The control station stood in an area past an exercise room and the oxygen systems, and it looked gutted.

The walls of the spherical chamber were a mismatched patchwork of alien video devices and cobbled together human electronics, some pieces not even functional, or worse, mere pieces of steel welded to the surrounding walls.

It looked like the room used to contain three pilot's chairs, bearing computerized displays and control equipment, but now I only saw one, the other two apparently replaced by a pair of hard boxes with very ordinary computers built into them. In fact, the systems appeared to be in the style of Android or Windows products, and _Heaven Beside You_ by Alice in Chains played from one of their tinny speakers.

In the rear of the chamber, Camille dozed with Haman on her stomach, the boy drowsily opening his eyes when I approached.

The android lay in an unclothed sprawl between the hard boxes, wires and cables plugged into the naked synthetic flesh of just about every part of her body. She twitched at odd moments, as if experiencing a dream.

"You have returned with Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik!" she exclaimed. "Please inform my daughter that I will be joining my her shortly, once diagnostics are completed."

"Will do," I said.

Camille continued to snore. She _really was_ tired.

"Did you find out what's missing?" I asked the android.

Mara's eyelids fluttered. Her voice answered me through one of the hardboxes instead of her mouth. "Water level in oxygen processing system is below acceptable operating range. Algae supply critical, fluid replenishment required. Defrosting of refrigerated algae reserve imperative."

"So we'll stop and drain a lake," I muttered.

"A detour is not necessary. Water may be siphoned from Plumbing Water Line 317a running parallel to the floor of this chamber."

"Do we have the tools to make this...siphon?"

Mara froze in thought. "They can be easily acquired."

"Okay, so what about fuel."

"Fuel intake is a redundant energy source. It is not required for flight, takeoff or landing. Laser propulsion units rely upon string energy core currently not present in Qumubix engine hub. Item must be replaced to enable propulsion."

"What else do we need to get this thing into space?"

She listed off more than a dozen unfamiliar alien machine parts, giving dire warnings about the failure to maintain each and every piece.

"Let me phrase this in another way," I said. "What else do we need to get up into space without dying?"

She froze. "An Agwexufon Module has been removed from the navigation system. Module must be replaced or risk catastrophic accident. Heat shields have also been damaged. Extensive repairs must be made or risk explosive results when entering or leaving planetary atmospheres."

"Can you fix them?"

"Yes. There are tools onboard that will fasten replacement panels securely. Some of them may need to be reshaped to precision to prevent an incident similar to Air France 4590, but such is not outside my range of available skills. Would you like me to commence operations?"

"No," I said. "We should get someone else to do that. I need you to help me find that power unit."

I frowned at her state of undress, and her anatomical accuracy. "And get some clothes on."

Mara unplugged herself, pulling her jumpsuit back on. "We appear to be in a quandary. My presence is required here, in order to guarantee precision maintenance is executed in a timely fashion, yet you also require guidance in the labyrinth. We may not have adequate time for both."

I sighed. " _Yeah..."_

Big Bird appeared on one of the monitors, waving to us. "I may have a solution to your dilemma. As you have been speaking, I took the liberty of accessing files from your database."

"I was aware of the access," Mara said. "But I did not know if you had acquired enough data to provide my associates sufficient guidance."

"I will be happy to guide them," said the AI.

"Very well." Mara took something that looked like a wristwatch out of a floor compartment, handing it to me. "Good luck."

"What's this?" I said as I stared at it.

"It's a holographic device. Big Bird will show you how to use it."

When I returned to the main living area of the craft, I found Pillow busying herself with Quana and Nathan's needs, breastfeeding Quana and feeding Nathan with the leftovers in the refrigeration units (there were still a few items in there, apparently still fresh).

Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, Shasharmazorb were seated on the floor, sharing their experiences, discussing the strangeness, the evils of humans, the difficulty of being a Ss'sik'chtokiwij in their world.

When Hosea told Ernie about how she'd been put in a human body, Ernie coughed and sneezed in sadness. "These humans have done a wicked thing, but God has a plan for you, and loves you no less than before. It doesn't change my love for you, either, my daughter."

"Thank you, mother," Hosea said, hugging her. "Forgive me if I do not maintain prolonged contact with your shell. This frail human body is sensitive to Ss'sik'chtokiwij bodily secretions."

Ernie nodded.

"When we leave this place," said Amos. "We should do something to commemorate this event, this time in which our family is all together."

"Like Christmas and Thanksgiving," Lammy agreed.

Ernie smiled. " _Our own Independence Day._ "

I stared at my new family for a moment, trying to wrap my mind around the emotions I felt. I nervously said hi, then sat down next to Pillow on the plant couch.

Frowning at Nathan, Pillow said, "I thought about bathing them, but I wasn't sure about our water supply."

"I will acquire a hose and siphoning equipment," Mara said.

She gave Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik a scary grin like Wednesday did in _Addams Family_ _Values_. She was trying to look friendly and super happy looking, I guess, but didn't quite pull it off. " _My dear daughter! How I missed you_! Come here and give your mother a hug!"

Ernie walked up to her and did so.

"What is this nonsense!" Ssunamrozedrah cried. "She is a _machine_! She is not your mother! S'Caizlixadac Moyssuwoha is dead!"

"Hey," I said. "Be kind. They may not be related, but I can tell they need each other. Sometimes adopted family is all the family you've got."

Ssunamrozedrah swallowed, looked away. I guess we'd all lost people we loved.

"Mother," Ernie said. "I'd like for you to meet my family."

She introduced Ssunamrozedrah, then gestured to the small ones. "My daughters, Lammy, Amos, and Jeremy." Her claw rubbed the dome of her larger offspring. "You know Julia, my eldest..."

She placed a claw on her grandmother's exoskeleton. "...And Shasharmazorb..."

"I am familiar with all of them, but I am honored to experience such an intimate ceremonial greeting."

"I'm technically Shasharmazorb's daughter," I blurted.

Mara froze. "Yes. You possess several genetic features in common."

I brought Caitlyn, Mark and Luke to meet Mara, identifying them as Shasharmazorb's adopted grandchildren, Ernie's cousins.

I pointed to my twin. "She's technically Shasharmazorb's daughter, too."

"How many daughters do I have?" Shasharmazorb cried in alarm.

I didn't want to tell her. I was afraid of what she might say. _The rejection.._.

"That's okay," said Ellie 2. "I'm not sure I want her as a mother."

I decided we'd resolve that familial conflict at a later time.

Zack climbed the landing ramp, leaning through the entry hatch. "This is touching, but unless you want The Board to break up this little family get together forever, I suggest that you wrap things up and go grab that missing whatever it is before they start sending in tanks or other heavy artillery."

I gave him a reluctant nod. " _Rescue Team, it's time to move out._ "

"Can I come along?" Ernie said with excitement. "I'm certain I can be helpful."

I took her claw in my hand. "Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, I know you've been imprisoned a long time, but I need you to stay here with mom. We had to go through too much to rescue you. We can't afford to have you captured again. If you want to help out, assist Mara with the repairs, or help the others stand guard. Make the place ready for takeoff."

"How do you know your force is sufficient enough to accomplish the task?"

"I don't."

"Then shouldn't you require further help?"

"Ernie," I sighed. "If you want to help, do this for me: If you find this place surrounded, and you can no longer hold the position, I want you all to run. Fight your way to an exit, steal a boat or a plane and run. The only people I want with me are people, _individuals_ with fighting experience, those that can move."

 _"A fighter that can move!"_ Ernie protested. "And you think I do not fit that description?"

"No offense," I said. "But you seem to be a pacifist, and you've been in that cell a long time. That being said, I'm praying I'm wrong, and you can back up mother and the others so we can delay our retreat as much as possible."

"But you bring my daughters and my niece with you!" she said. "Is it not dangerous for them as well?"

I answered, "It's dangerous for us all, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik. Your grandmother's too big to go everywhere we need to go, and she'll be angry if you get killed. You're the deal breaker. We can't take off without her, or you."

Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik and Shasharmazorb argued about this for a minute, but in the end Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik ceded to her grandmother's will. "It is for the greater good, for all of us," she admitted. "I shall pray for you unceasingly."

"Thank you," I said. "I'll need it."

"I don't want you to go again, mommy!" Caitlyn said. "It's dangerous! I keep thinking you won't come back!"

I hugged her. "Just remember what I told you. _You're with family_. No matter what happens, I'm finding a way back to you." I wiped a tear from her eye. "I love you, Caitlyn. Be brave."

She nodded, but I could tell she was fighting back tears.

Outside the room, I furrowed my brow as I studied the projector watch. "How does this thing work?"

I heard a musical chime, then one of those perfect computer software lady voices spoke to me from a built in speaker. "Welcome to the operating tutorial for the Portable Holographic Assistant. _Main menu_ : Speak or press the option you wish to hear. _Installation...Power Saver Mode..._ "

Moe sighed impatiently through his nostrils. "Can we skip to the part where you just push a button and make the thing go on and off?"

One of the device's many buttons flashed blue. I pushed it, and Big Bird appeared, purring in amusement. "Are we ready to go?"

I nodded.

Expecting trouble, we collected as much weaponry as we could from the dead soldiers.

The `TV woman' and Mrs. Hampton were dead. It looked like an animal had ripped their throats out. I asked the Ss'sik'chtokiwij, but none of them knew anything about it. I guessed it had something to do with the escaped prisoners.

I retraced our steps to the room of Shasharmazorb's imprisonment.

Despite the tram not working, due to my earlier Grape Ape routine, the journey back was actually the easy part. We ran into a few pockets of resistance, playing cowboy around corners and various protective objects, but faced little difficulty, the inmates having taken down most of the opposition. Since we no longer needed Pillow's guidance, we also had the liberty of quick movement without the fear of leaving anyone behind.

We soon came running past Shasharmazorb's chamber.

I clicked the watch. "So it's just straight ahead of here?"

"Affirmative," she replied. "Remember: Please limit usage of this device for emergencies, as it runs on a limited AT&T branded battery system. I will communicate with you through the various electronic devices of the compound to conserve power once I find an appropriate access point."

"Right," I said, shutting it off.

The corridor terminated in a structure that resembled a cavern, some parts apparently blasted out of rocks, the others reinforced concrete.

Wary of hidden danger, we crept inward with our weapons drawn. Mark hung from my neck, staring wide eyed at the bewildering maze.

For illumination, we had fluorescents, caged mounted lights, and strategically placed mirrors in cracks around the roof. No place to climb up and crawl over to the next area, of course.

`Labyrinth' proved to be an accurate description. About five yards in, the tunnel forked in several directions, each area appearing to be identical to the other.

"Great," I groaned in frustration. "Now where do we go?"

Moe pointed to a dead body. "How about following the trail of carnage?"

"How do we know she's not wandering around lost?" my twin asked. "Those bodies could lead anywhere."

"Big Bird gave her maps," I answered.

"We should have gotten some for us."

I reddened, suddenly feeling stupid. "Well I didn't, okay? You want to go back and get some?"

"Not to worry..." Zack pulled a stack of scrap paper out of his pocket. _"Tadaah!_ "

I stared. "How did you get that?"

"Magic is all about distraction and misdirection," he answered. "Your android is very helpful."

Simon picked up a piece of thread. "So is this."

I examined the papers carefully. "Huh. That definitely looks like the right way, if I'm not reading this upside-down."

A wall sconce flickered, and Big Bird appeared.

"Ironically enough, like the myth of Theseus and the Minotaur, it appears that your friend possessed a quantity of golden thread. Yarn would have been more accurate, but I assume the intention was to locate a correct path to the entrance without the assistance of a map."

"There aren't any minotaurs, are there?"

Charon laughed. " _Minotaurs?_ Seriously?"

"From what I've seen of these people, I wouldn't be a bit surprised if they had them."

The hologram answered, "I am unaware of any such creature in this maze. That being said, this cavern has been chiseled out of rocks containing magnetite elements, which cause problems with my detection systems." As if to illustrate the point, her hologram flickered, her voice becoming crackly and garbled as she said something else.

Noticing Hosea leaning into an adjoining corridor, I grabbed her and pulled her back. "Hey. Don't wander off. You will _really_ get lost in here."

Lammy and Julia had been similarly engaged in exploration, sniffing at openings and making small cautious advances down the branching corridors.

"You too, guys," I warned. "I'm sure you can find your own way out, but we don't have the luxury of time."

"What is the purpose of this wasteful construction?" Ssunamrozedrah asked as she peered at the walls.

"To confuse and mislead the enemy, my Lord," Golic said.

Tido nodded. "There is a famous film in which a man enters a maze such as this and freezes to death."

"He did not possess explosives?"

"No, my Lord. He didn't even wear a coat."

Ssunamrozedrah growled and nodded. "A barbaric, deceptively simple trap for an enemy. I have heard of similar things among the Yaotja."

Since we had no fast way of calculating scale or pacing on the map, tracking the string seemed to be a much better idea. We followed it straight ahead for a few more yards.

"Stay frosty, everyone," Moe muttered.

Without warning, the walls on both sides of us opened up, revealing a pair of hidden 88mm Hornets, their automated machinery unleashing a deadly barrage.

We dropped to the floor.

"It would be nice if we had a grenade or two," I said.

Zack wiggled forward on his stomach. "Yeah, but the explosion could close off the tunnel."

Moe reached into his pocket, pulling out a dark object.

"What's that?" I said.

"A grenade."

"Bad idea!" Zack blurted, but Moe had already pulled the pin and thrown it.

"Aren't you supposed to count to three or something?"

"That's only if there's a moving target."

"What about Ippi?" I asked.

Moe yelled, "Fire in the hole!"

The grenade exploded, knocking the muzzles of both guns off kilter, one of them creating a rain of dust as it shot up the ceiling, the other falling silent.

Lucky for us, the explosion had not cut off our path, though it _had_ brought down a chunk of the ceiling. Sunlight streamed down from above. We raced up behind the machines quickly, to avoid further projectiles.

"Excellent work, Mister Moe," said Wodehouse, looking pale and sweaty. "Next time, however, it would be better to first assess whether or not you are grenading a load bearing wall."

"Chill out, _Wizzo_ ," Moe answered. "I'm out of grenades."

My twin brushed dirt out of her eyes as she stared up through the hole. "I bet it's noontime right now. I'd kill for a sandwich."

Charon adjusted her cloak. "It's probably long past noon. The sooner we can get this thing and get out, the sooner we can eat."

Hosea pointed to a red shape padding up a connecting tunnel. "What about _that thing?_ It looks edible to _me!_ "

"Yes," Lammy said with steaming saliva dribbling from her maw. "It looks like a walking meat kabob!"

The thing nervously wagged its tail, then whined a little.

I stepped forward.

"Careful, prophetess," Golic said. "That beast may be vicious!"

I crept closer. "It's a _dog._ "

Okay, so it wasn't your usual everyday kind of dog. It looked like someone had peeled off all its skin and left the muscle, sinew, bones and bodily organs behind. It whimpered at just about every step due to the lack of skin. I couldn't imagine the pain it must have been feeling.

The dog looked super skinny, like it had been starving for some time, but we had no food.

The thing's eyes turned in its grotesque sockets.

I offered my palm to it, like you would a normal dog.

It sniffed, then licked it.

I tried to pet the creature, but when I touched it, it yelped and backed away with a whimper.

The thing ran off.

"What," Moe asked. "Was that like a zombie or something?"

"It seems impossible for a thing like that to walk around and still live," Julia agreed.

Charon sighed through her nostrils. " _Let's just be glad it didn't try to kill us,_ and leave it at that."

She waved a wing in the direction the dog had come from. "The thread goes that way."

We marched up the corridor, turned a corner into semi-darkness.

A loud mechanical rumble startled us into high alert.

"The fuck?"

A moment later, under the blinding glare of headlights, I saw a green metal behemoth emerge from the shadows, flailing chains at us with a strange contraption affixed to its front end.

It looked like an army tank, but not any tank I've ever seen before in the movies. We backed away, but it came rushing at us like a freight train.

"What the hell is that?" cried my twin.

"It's a Shermann Crab!" Moe shouted. "Something tells me they're not using it to clear out landmines!"

This thing was not a museum piece. It had to be a replica. The motor running the flail turned several revolutions faster than the machine appeared to be emulating. Softball sized maces on chains continually whipped around a drum held in the arms of the tank, threatening to pulp us into oblivion.

"I always wanted to touch a piece of history," said Zack. "But this wasn't what I had in mind!"

"Humans are idiots," Ssunamrozedrah scoffed.

"Maybe so," Moe said. "But we don't have a bazooka, so it's clever enough!"

Ssunamrozedrah fired bullets at the machine, but they just ricocheted off.

"Save your ammo!" said Moe. "Tanks were _designed_ to be bulletproof!"

Ssunamrozedrah snarled and threw her weapon down.

"Pick that back up. Now you're just being silly."

"Great," said Charon. "We're about to be killed by a giant hair curler."

"Can I have a gun, mommy?" Mark asked me. "I want to shoot at it too."

I shook my head. "Honey, guns are not toys. We need to save ammo. Besides, you can see how it didn't work."

He let out a disappointed "oh."

"Where is your weapon?" Ssunamrozedrah asked me. "The one from my clan ship?"

"The blaster?" I said. "I...don't know."

"If only we had it still," said Ssunamrozedrah. "This would have been much simpler."

 _"I know!"_

The skinned dog yelped and dove down an adjacent tunnel.

"Zombie pooch has a good idea!" Moe yelled. "Everyone into a side tunnel!"

This proved to be a good idea. The Crab Tank could roll forward and back, but it couldn't traverse the narrow side tunnels we'd darted into. I figured they had either assembled the machine in the corridor, or only drove it through parts of the maze that measured roughly nine feet in width, with some very tight turns in a 19' diameter rotunda somewhere.

Unfortunately, a turret gun had been added to the machine. The moment it passed by our hiding spot, a soldier at the rear reduced our skinless pup to a bloody pulp.

Zack, who had ducked into the same passage as me, muttered, "Thank God. Someone _needed_ to put that poor thing out of its misery!"

I had mixed feelings about it, but I agreed that the dog _had_ been in a lot of pain.

My teammates otherwise appeared to be intact and unharmed. Well, from what I could see, at least. The others had ducked in other tunnels, and the tank blocked my view of the one ahead of me.

Lammy and Mark huddled between me and the wall.

"You want me to climb up there and stop it?" Ellie 2 whispered to me.

"No," I said. "Let's just go around."

I caught Hosea trying to slink away again. "Hey! Stay with the group!"

The woman growled, pressing her back to the wall as she anxiously watched the tank.

While the turret gunner had been busy `putting our pet down', Moe had been rushing alongside the tank and took out the soldier.

The tank stopped, the driver apparently bewildered by the silence up top.

Simon (also with me) stuck something that looked like a garden claw and a rope into his crossbow, offering it to me. "Fancy playing Batman?"

I shook my head. "You have better aim."

With a shrug, the man aimed at the upper hatch and fired.

Fortunately for us, the lid had been left open, and the magician's grappling hook struck it right over the lip.

A moment later, he was up on the roof of the thing, dropping a stink bomb inside.

I heard someone swearing from within the vehicle, then Simon traded shots with the unseen occupant. Simon lost his gun, but he silence his attacker with a crossbow bolt.

"Great," Zack said, jumping out of hiding. "We've got a tank! Let's all pile in and look for this ship part!"

"It's not a race car," Moe said. "And it's too bulky. We're better off walking."

I put my hands on my hips. "Well, at least we're all alive and in one piece."

Ippi's trail of thread came to an abrupt end. It seemed the people in the tank hadn't been completely unobservant. I rubbed my face in frustration.

Zack took out the papers, comparing them to the tunnel. It wasn't the best lighting for us to be practicing cartography. "Uh..."

"All right," I said to Julia. "It's like you guys always told me. I need to use the senses God gave me...or God indirectly grafted onto me."

I swallowed my dignity and crawled along the floor, sniffing around. I soon located the female's scent, fresh and unmistakable (at least to my nose).

Since I did this a little too slowly, Lammy, Julia and my twin sniffed with me, helping to speed up the process.

Charon, Golic and Tido stayed behind us for a moment, looting the tank and its occupants for anything of use.

According to what I could smell, the Abreya had turned left at a fork rather than the T junction behind it. She traveled down an elbow bend.

I thought I was doing great until I arrived at a dead end.

This barrier, bizarrely enough, featured a pinball machine.

"I always knew Midway was behind this!" Moe joked.

Humor aside, this wasn't any kind of commercially produced pinball machine I'd ever seen before. It had no brand marks, and the design itself reflected a total lack of imagination, a bland collection of bumpers, targets, ramps and flippers on a slate gray undecorated table, the DAMBALLAH snake and flower backboard the only item of genuine interest.

Charon returned to the group with a lit cigarette in her mouth, her hands bearing snack food and water bottles. Golic and Tido brought weapons. We ate trail mix, chips and cookies as we stared at the machine.

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij, of course, avoided the sweets, since it made them sick.

Golic pointed to the snake image. "Truly, I say that is a sign of pure evil."

"No disagreement here," I said.

Hosea stole the cigarette out of Charon's mouth, puffing on it a few times. She didn't cough or anything. I think her body was used to nicotine.

Charon slapped her. "Do that again and I'll break your fingers."

Julia ran a claw across the sides of the cabinet, a mismatched black eyesore covered with stylized flames and silver orbs. Bright gold letters spelled out the phrase, `We're watching you'. "This is strange. Humans appear to be fixated on this game..."

Lammy climbed up on the box, staring with fascination.

Zack marched up to the machine, reaching for the flipper button.

"I wouldn't," said Moe. "It's probably a push button bomb."

Hattam jerked his hand back quickly.

He dug out his papers, holding them up to the flashing lights of the machine. _"_ I don't get it. The map says this is the way, but that is clearly a _wall._ Are you sure your nose is leading us to the right place, Ellie?"

"This is where she went," Ellie 2 blurted at the same exact time I said, "I think so."

Moe pointed his assault rifle at the machine. "Everyone get back."

We all got to a safe distance.

"Wait," I said. "What if she's behind it?"

But Moe was already firing.

The backboard shattered, revealing a dark cave.

 _"No explosives!"_ I sighed in relief.

 _"I'd be careful how you climb on the lower half."_

We discovered, belatedly, that the backboard opened on a hinge, at least partially explaining where Ippi had gotten to.

The glass of the table proved strong enough for us to crawl over. We pushed aside the broken pieces of backboard and its shattered bulbs, stepping out into the shadowy tunnel on the other side.

"And they drove a _tank_ through here!" I said.

Zack smirked. "What makes you think they did that?"

It was a head scratcher. The expense, the time, just for an elaborate trick? I decided it didn't matter enough to bother discussing.

The moment after all fourteen of us had climbed through the opening and stood on the pavement of the other side, I heard Moe yell, "Howitzer! Everyone on the floor!"

We did what we were told, dropping to the ground.

I heard the sound of a cannon firing, then a hollow plunk of something hitting the wall above our heads.

It bounced off, rolling to a stop next to Zack's patent leather shoe. "The fuck?"

He picked up the cylinder, staring at it in disbelief. "It was a dud?"

"Let me see that." Moe took it out of his hands, examining it carefully.

He shook it, holding it up to his ear. "It's a propaganda shell."

"What is propaganda, mommy?" Mark asked me.

"They're like advertisements," I said. "Mostly bullshit, really. Like, _`Come to our prison camp! We have free food!'_ "

"Or a million paper cranes saying `give peace a chance,'" said Zack.

"That doesn't sound very useful."

"It probably isn't."

My friend unscrewed the base, pulling out a piece of rolled paperboard.

This is what it said:

"You are a valuable asset to this Organization, but we cannot afford for you to escape the compound. We can and will destroy you if you make the attempt. Turn back now or die."

Ellie 2 laughed. _"Nice try._ "

Moe pointed his fist at the man who fired the Howitzer, extending his middle finger.

Zack stared at the launcher. "You think they'll load a Chinese menu next? I'm _starved!_ "

The gunner muttered something to his loading assistant, who in turn spoke into a radio.

"I doubt it." Moe stood up, gesturing for us to rush the soldiers. We would have shot them, but the Howitzer had a shield.

As we came closer, the assistant slapped in an explosive shell, but he was an amateur working with a 75mm Pack Howitzer. He screamed as the loading mechanism clamped down on his fingers.

Charon calmly marched up to the artillery piece, raised her pistol, and shot both soldiers dead.

Ippi's path weaved left three times, then turned down a leftward turning elbow bend.

When we entered this bend, I saw a man and a woman stepping around the corner, both dressed in lab coats. One was a stringy haired brunette, the other a fat bearded man.

 _"Ellie,_ " said the woman. "You need to stop this."

"She's right, honey," the man said. "This has gone on long enough. _You have to turn back._ "

"What is this!" I cried. "Who are you!"

"Don't you remember?" the woman said. "We're your _parents!_ "

Their voices were wrong.

Their faces were wrong.

These weren't the people that raised me.

Weren't they?

"You're not my parents!" I screamed. "My parents are _gone_! What is this, some kind of sick game?"

The woman broke into tears. "What have they done to you?" She turned to face the man. "George, they've brainwashed her!"

More sobbing.

 _"Look what you've done!"_ the man scolded. " _Why'd you have to go and make your mother cry?_ "

"She's not my mother! Who put you up to this!"

"No one!" the woman sobbed. _"We're really your parents!_ "

Lammy growled uneasily.

"They're playing mind games with you," said Moe. "They're no more family than those so-called `relatives' that come running to the winners of those scratch and win games. Ask them where they've been all your life. When those other people were raising you."

"Why the charade?" I asked.

"They're trying to break you," said Zack. "You think your real parents would be lurking around in a secret military installation just waiting for you to show up? They're _puppets_! _Actors_ that the company wheeled out as a last ditch effort to get you to turn around!"

"I concur," Wodehouse said. "This is merely a psychological gambit, an interrogation technique on the level with waterboarding."

I know these arguments were sound, but strong angry denials always leave room for doubt, making you wonder if alternatives are possible. "I..."

"After all we've been through," Charon said. "You're going to be suckered in by _this?_ "

I stammered incoherently, too upset to speak.

Hosea slipped past them, peering down the passage ahead.

"Hey!" I called.

Hosea stopped, squatted on the floor.

"This is foolishness!" said Golic. "The prophetess does not have a family of flesh such as this! _I have seen the mother with my own eyes!_ "

 _"Sia nok,_ " Tido chanted in agreement.

Mark was on my back, but I could see him nodding out of the corner of my eye. "He's right, mommy."

Lammy flipped her tail back and forth in frustration. "We should kill them. Every time we encounter humans here, they cause us nothing but trouble."

" _We should,"_ said Ellie 2.

But Julia replied, "They have not attacked us. Would it not be better to simply knock them unconscious?"

"Thank you," I said to her. "If we become that bloodthirsty, we're no better than the people we're trying to fight."

Ssunamrozedrah loaded in a clip, aiming it at the woman.

I held out my hand, indicating no.

"We're test tube babies," said Ellie 2. "What are these people to us?"

 _"Family,"_ said the strange woman. "This was the only way we could get close to you."

Ssunamrozedrah impatiently flared the pores in her head plate.

Zack laughed, shaking his head. "And what, you're just going to _take her home to live with you?_ "

"Yes."

I rolled my eyes. "I've heard stuff like that promised before. It never ends well."

"That isn't our fault."

"It isn't mine, either," I said. "Have a nice life."

I shoved the fake mother aside and walked down the tunnel.

A moment later, the woman doubled over, vomiting blue foam. Blue liquid poured out her eyes as she did this.

She coughed, collapsed on the ground and died. The man went a second later.

"Sick bastards," Zack muttered.

We continued on.

Around the next corner, we found ourselves walking into a death trap even more dangerous than the tank or guns at the entrance.

After a long hike through a dimly lit, progressively narrowing tunnel, a pair of Smoothbore MK1 Smith Guns turned on us, opening fire.

The weapons had shields in the front, and metal roofs, pivoting on a metal base. We dove to the floor, crawling backwards in a hurry.

Lammy pressed herself so tightly against the floor that she resembled a flattened section of hose or a pillbug.

Julia tried to do the same thing, but, due to her large size, she ended up just as vulnerable and exposed as the rest of us.

We fired a few test shots, and Mark threw some quills, but we weren't in range. We had to get within _their range_ to even hope of doing damage. Golic and Tido chanted in Ss'sik'chtokiwij.

"What the hell do we do with that?" my twin asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know, die? It's not like they want us to get past."

"Were there any grenades in that tank?" Ellie 2 asked our friend in the bird costume.

"What good is that?" said Moe. "You'd need a bunch of them just to knock down the armor!"

 _"They're not tanks,"_ she answered.

"I know, but..."

"Sorry, no grenades."

I felt the air being disturbed next to me, but saw no one. At least, not right away.

"Let me take care of it," I heard Felicia's voice saying behind me.

"What if they've got infrared?"

"Let's hope they don't know I'm here."

I handed her my gun. "Good luck."

It turned out that she couldn't make the gun invisible, even when she held it. It floated around like a prop in some cheesy low budget horror movie.

"I got a knife in my bra," she sighed, dropping the gun. "Looks like I'll have to use that."

The red blob whipped past me.

I saw it travel down the corridor.

The shape stepped behind one of the machines. A moment later, I heard a gurgling screech. A bloody arm flopped out from behind the shield.

The other gun spun that way, but Felicia was already rushing toward the gunner with her knife, and the machine hadn't been designed for close quarters combat.

Unfortunately, it seemed that someone had tipped this gunner off. The moment Felicia whipped out her blade, the man drew a weapon of his own.

I saw a brilliant flash, then heard a bloodcurdling scream as the person I could only see as a heat signature disappeared into nothingness.

"Shit," Zack whispered. "Now what?"

"We wait," said Moe. "And we army crawl."

We waited for a full minute, but the gun did not move for fire. We crawled closer.

Ellie 2 stood up, looking around.

"What are you doing!" I hissed. "Get back on the floor!"

She snorted, gesturing for us to also stand. "C'mon. The guy's dead."

We hurried to the position behind the machines, frisking the bodies for ammunition and tools.

Ellie 2 showed me a small silver gun, an odd device that looked more like a prop from the movie _Men in Black_ than a real thing used to kill people. She pointed it experimentally at a wall far from us, pulling the trigger.

The gun only caused the mounted cage light to blow out.

"Curiouser and curiouser," said Zack. "Maybe it's an EMP of some mind."

"Could be useful..." My twin pocketed the device, and we resumed our march.

The Smith guns stood at the corner of an L bend, so we turned left, entering... _a hallway lined with bookshelves_.

I'm not sure why someone put it there. At first, I thought it was to provide soldiers with some reading material during their off time, but when we passed in between the rows, we found ourselves being pelted with encyclopedias and repair manuals.

"What the hell is this?" Moe cried.

"Fuck!" Charon groaned as she rubbed a bruised arm. "It's like they removed the safeties from the Ghostbusters attraction!"

Hosea angrily fired her rifle into a shelf.

Moe pushed the muzzle down. " _Whoa, easy there, pardner!_ Those who shoot history textbooks to confetti are doomed to repeat the exams."

Simon rubbed his sore head. "Let's make a hasty exit before I get withered by _Wuthering Heights!_ "

"Actually," said Zack. "I'm more worried about _50,001 Jokes, Limericks and Puns!_ "

The shelves of literary assault continued on straight for awhile, then split into a four way intersection. Golic cursed as the _Goblet of Fire_ book pegged him in the head, but Tido had it worse. He'd been hit by an installment of the Monica Lewinsky report.

Mark fell off my back after a hardbound copy of Stephen King's Insomnia hit him in the face. Ssunamrozedrah endured several Chilton's manuals.

"C'mon," Moe said. "Tell me where to go before they break out the dictionaries and church bibles!"

 _"Whoever said that words never hurt..."_ Zack moaned.

"No kidding!" Charon complained. "Can we _please_ get some small paperbacks?"

We soon discovered that flying hardbound books on Megatrends were the least of our troubles. After two right turns we ran into a cluster of soldiers armed with yellow pistols. At first I thought they were cordless drills.

"Shit!" Moe cried. "They've got electric guns!"

I stared. "You mean like tasers?"

"No, _pistols with electric propulsion!_ Get behind the bookshelves!"

When the green clad men fired their weapons, flachettes came whipping out at twice the speed of the fastest machine gun.

For what seemed like several minutes, we played a cat-and-mouse game of ducking behind shelves, popping out to shoot, running back.

Mark got one of the soldiers in the leg with a quill, but it only gave the man a slight limp.

Charon fired off a burst, but her attacker dodged out of the way, shattering our friend's beak-like visor.

Golic and Tido, being of such fanatic zeal, came close to killing themselves several times during the encounter.

Lammy tried to attack them from below, but the men had excellent aim, and seemed to have no trouble picking at moving targets running across the floor.

These soldiers had some kind of SWAT team or Marine Corps experience, it seemed. We poured several rounds into the fight before at last bringing them down.

Our ammunition reserve had dwindled down to what we had in our clips, and we'd sustained a few injuries.

A hole had been punched through Julia's exoskeleton, but Ss'sik'chtokiwij were rapid healers. She'd live. Ellie 2 had been hit in the chest. She'd be okay. Lammy had been grazed, Mark, during a spine throwing stunt, had been wounded (another rapid healer) and Simon had a bleeding wound in a non-vital part of his leg. We tore bits of clothing and made a tourniquet, and Charon tied off a flesh wound in Tido's arm with part of her cape.

I was leaning against an empty shelf, catching my breath, when a last soldier crept out from hiding with his electric pistol.

"Ellie! Look out!" someone shouted.

The problem was, I didn't see him until he was firing.

I flinched, expecting a flachette in the back, or my skull, but the shot hit the ceiling, my attacker letting out a scream as he collapsed.

I gawked as a large Ss'sik'chtokiwij ripped his body open.

"Lacethanny?"


	67. Chapter 67: Minotaurs in the Maze

If anyone read my earlier posting of this chapter, sorry about the missing words.

[0000]

* * *

I stared at the Ss'sik'chtokiwij standing in front of me, unsure what to make of her.

She purred. "Yes. It is me. Jen-Jen is dormant right now, so I have temporary control."

"Good," I said. "We need all the help we can get."

"What have you been doing all this time, my great aunt?" Julia asked.

Lacethanny shook her head. "I...can't remember."

"More than likely plotting our destruction!" Ssunamrozedrah growled.

"I think..." Lacethanny said. "We are not as privileged as we originally thought. Jen-Jen knows this in her heart, but she does not wish to seem vulnerable. She also harbors resentment against you." She gestured to her own exoskeleton. _"For this._ "

"You can tell her I'm sorry," I said.

"I'm afraid she wants an apology in blood."

I sighed. "I hope she stays asleep, then."

"Did you see Ippi?" my twin asked.

"No. I took an elevator."

"The what!" Charon cried.

Lacethanny pointed a claw to a brass door.

This prompted our costumed warrior to utter all kinds of swear words.

"It leads to the Learning Town," the Ss'sik'chtokiwij explained. "It's full of deadly traps. It wouldn't have been much easier."

"Sure. You _say_ that..."

"Never mind," I said. " _We're here, and we need to move._ "

Ippi's trail took us around in a `U' and down a long narrow passage that seemed to go on forever.

I checked the guns we had acquired during our little fight with the highly trained men. Moe knew more about them than I did, so he showed me how to load them with fresh flachettes.

We kept walking. And walking.

"Well this is just dandy," said Moe. "You sure this is the right way?"

Zack checked the papers. "It says so on the map! If we're at the long assed line, that is."

 _"Seems long assed enough to me._ "

Ellie 2 looked back, nervously guarding our group from the back.

Charon took off her headdress, scowled at it a moment, and threw it on the floor.

"Hey," Zack joked. "Don't litter."

"Shut up."

"Did you give any more thought to what we discussed earlier?" Tido asked her.

"Your bizarre, quasi-religious mythology, you mean?" She laughed. "No. Have you given any thought to what _I_ said?"

Tido frowned. _"Heathen._ "

 _"And yet you keep talking to me."_

 _"Persistence,"_ Golic whispered to Tido a little too loudly. _"A spirit egg is hatching in her soul._ "

"Can we discuss anything with her?" Lammy asked me, indicating our newly acquired team member.

"I...don't know. If her other self wakes up, I think she might know too much and use it against us."

"Then we should kill the betrayer," said Ssunamrozedrah.

"I don't know. _Lacethanny is still in there..._ "

"I agree," said Julia. "We would be destroying family. Something else must be done."

"Perhaps we can chain her up and put her in a box!" Hosea suggested. "Like the mustachioed man in the books I have seen."

 _"Houdini,"_ Zack corrected.

"Indeed," said Simon. "Despite the passage of centuries, mankind has yet to exceed his brilliance."

"Of course," Zack said with a wink. " _We're heavily biased._ "

"The locks were a lot easier to pick back then," Charon said.

"True, that."

When we at last reached the next corner, we came up against a Northover Projector. As with other important details, the maps mentioned none of this weaponry.

Replica or no, the thing looked dangerous when the muzzle turned our way, a slim sort of cannon on a tripod, fitted with a glass jar containing some kind of chemical. The actual results, however, were unexpected.

Once we dropped to the ground, the gunner took aim at me, readying the trigger mechanism, but Moe popped up and shot the glass jar, turning the gun and the man behind it into a huge fireball.

"Jeez!" Zack remarked. "Substandard equipment and incompetent staff! It's like Germany at the end of the second World War!"

We skirted the flames and the blackened soldier, coming to another four way.

The trail took us left, down another long passage. The following intersection gave us the choice between going straight or taking the fork right. I found the scent on the right, and after walking for awhile, the rock and concrete walls changed to brick, and we came to a glass and metal building entrance.

It had a cross and a dove symbol on the door, and on one wall a bulletin board with religious papers stapled all over it.

Simon picked the lock open, and we marched across a carpeted floor to a pair of staircases, one going down to a dead end wall, the other going up. The choice was obvious.

At the top, we found another staircase, but it also led to a wall, as did a glass and wood door ahead of us. Our only choice appeared to be pushing through a wooden door on our left side.

We found ourselves in the brick walled narthex of a church.

A church lobby, in the middle of a maze. I stared at the large cross, the religious paintings.

"Another mind game," Ellie 2 muttered.

"Yes," said Charon. "And it's directed at your sister."

"Cute," Zack said as he peered through a stained glass window. "Where's the bake sale?"

Through the windows surrounding a double door at this place's apparent `entrance', I could see a pack of cloned lions prowling around in a concrete tunnel. Every now and then they would roar and bang their paws against the glass, threatening to shatter it.

Moe tapped on a pane experimentally. "It's the strong stuff. Unless they start picking up weapons, it should hold."

"What's the plan?" said my twin. "They gonna preach us to death?"

Golic pointed to a bubble on the ceiling. "The enemy watches!"

Wodehouse suddenly clutched his leg.

He bent down, removing a quill from his calf. After examining it for a moment, and seeing Mark exploring a bench nearby, he angrily waved the projectile in my face. "Does your `child' have problems controlling his darts?"

I frowned, glanced at my son, glanced at the magician. "Not...normally."

"Well keep him away from me or, God help me, I will tie him up in ropes so tight that even Mr. Houdini would find it impossible to escape!"

"I did not shoot him, mommy," Mark said.

"If not you-" Wodehouse began.

He yelped, grabbing another quill.

"Bloody hell! You bastard imp!"

But then Mark was pulling one out of his neck, furrowing his brow as he stared at it. "These don't look like mine, mommy..."

"Duck!" Zack shouted, shoving Wodehouse to the floor.

A moment later, a dart shot out of the wall, clattering off the brickwork.

"It's a trap!" Moe yelled, firing at parts of the walls where the quills came from. "Let's get moving!"

"Go without me," Wodehouse groaned. "I'm...exhausted."

"Me too," Mark said, curling up on the floor. "Mommy, go find the thingy and come back for me."

Mark had clearly been drugged. If he had been all the way awake, he would have been scared of the abandonment.

I frowned. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

We ducked down as darts sprayed through the air.

Moe fired his newly acquired electric gun at the camera bubbles, but whenever one shattered, a machine switched them out with replacements.

"Tranquilizer darts," Charon said. "More than likely."

I nodded. "I only hope that's all it is."

I handed Mark over to Moe, grabbing the drowsy magician. I called to Hosea and Ssunamrozedrah in Ss'sik'chtokiwij to help me.

Attempting to dive in there for cover, we threw open the double doors to the chapel, but we only uncovered a concrete wall painted to look like a chapel. The door adjacent, one bearing a sign reading `utility' also proved to be a fraud.

We hurriedly dragged the man up a tan paneled hallway, keeping our heads and bodies low to avoid the darts flying at that level. Hosea cursed as a dart struck her in the neck, but she kept going.

The section of tunnel ended, and so did the darts.

Hosea slumped against a concrete wall, closing her eyes.

Tido, who had also been struck by a dart, settled next to her, staring heavy lidded at the wall opposite.

"Keep going," the cult man said in a tired voice. "We'll watch the tunnel to make sure no one comes through."

It was a bad lie. The man only looked prepared to watch the insides of his eyelids.

"Forgive me," I said. "But you're not inspiring much confidence."

Golic slapped him. "By the name of Shasharmazorb, keep your wits about you! The enemy prowls in secret, preparing your capture!"

Tido shook his head violently. "I am sorry, brother in faith."

He stood up, but then soon sat back down and rested when Golic wasn't looking.

"I'll take charge of these pathetic creatures," said Ssunamrozedrah. "So far I have yet to face a challenge worthy of my battle skills."

"Thank you," I said. "Anyways, I'm sure we'll be coming back the same way. In the meantime, maybe you can do something about all these darts."

"What if it's not a tranquilizer?" Charon asked.

"I don't know," I said. "Let's hope we don't have to find out."

"I know how much Mark means to you," said my twin. "I'll stay back and watch with him."

I hated to do it, but I left them where they were.

"Good luck," I said. "If and when one of these guys wake up, I want you and they to start moving the others our way, all right?"

"What about the darts?"

I sighed. "Unless you've got an idea, we'll figure that out on the way back."

Ssunamrozedrah nodded. "As you wish."

Charon seemed a bit trouble by the thought of leaving Tido behind, but she said nothing about it.

A yard down, the tunnel got dark, and I heard techno music.

Strobe lights came on. Neon tubes lit up on the walls.

Further in, we found scantily clad cage dancers painted in striped Da-Glo, and beyond that, a mob of people trance dancing around in glow stick tubes and pastel outfits that picked up the ultraviolet illumination and laser lights.

"All right!" said Zack. "A _rave!_ This sure is a happening church!"

"If you want to bust a move," Moe said. "Bust it on the way out of here."

"What are all these people doing in _here?_ " I asked.

Julia growled. " _They're not people._ "

It turned out she was right. Mere holograms and androids danced around. Big Bird danced along with them, directing us to the exit. We only saw her briefly, and got no audio. Halfway through the room, her image got hazy and winked out.

We pushed aside the solid entities, turning a corner.

A foot up the tunnel, a group of dancers gyrated into our path, obstructing our passage.

 _"How wonderful,"_ Charon complained. " _A dance trap._ "

"Is that a pun?" I asked. "Or is that an actual thing?"

"It's a trick they use in Disney parks to catch shoplifters. The cop chases them into a dance room, and the droids jostle them into-"

Moe readied his assault rifle, but Ellie 2 stopped him. "Wait."

She pulled out the little silver gun, firing it at the robots.

No effect.

My twin frowned at the gun. "What the hell good is this thing, then?"

"Maybe it only works on invisible people," Zack suggested.

Moe plowed through the robots with his assault rifle, the milky coolant making a glowing splash beneath the black lights.

The assault rifle clicked empty. Moe tossed it aside.

We knocked the others to the floor, shoving our way into the next passage: A hall of mirrors.

Zack took out his map, compared it to what he saw, then threw the papers away.

"Why'd you do that?" Charon said. _"We might actually need those!"_

He pointed at the tunnels, which, via refraction, doubled and bent back upon themselves in all the reflections.

Charon swore. "I thought you were a _magician_! I thought mirrors were _your thing!_ "

Zack reddened, looking ashamed. "How do you think they caught me?"

I picked up the maps, stuffing them in my pocket. "I'm sure we can still find a use for this. I mean, hey, we can't always rely on smell."

"Thank God we have bloodhounds like you on our team," Charon said.

The mirrored passageway split in three directions. We turned right into a tunnel of funhouse mirrors.

Lacethanny growled and rubbed a claw across her face plate. "Oh God. Did I sleepwalk again?"

I stared at her. "Are you Lacethanny, or Jen-Jen?"

"What do you think!" the Ss'sik'chtokiwij growled. "You guys are in _so_ much trouble!"

Ssunamrozedrah pointed her gun at the small one. "And what are _you_ going to do about it?"

Jen-Jen swallowed. "N-nothing."

"We're keeping you alive solely because you occupy the body of my great aunt. Attempt anything mischievous and we will destroy you."

Jen-Jen slowly nodded her head. "I understand, ma'am."

Ssunamrozedrah holstered her weapon.

Lammy and Julia gazed at the mirrors with curiosity and puzzlement, waving their claws at their reflections, appearing to be shocked or dismayed by the ones that made them look elongated or fat or otherwise distorted.

"It looks like they've taken scrap parts out of the Haunted Mansion," Charon said as she briefly paused to fix her hair.

"We've got some good deals from the smugglers," Jen-Jen said. "MM7 helped by omitting some files from Disney's record books."

Moe tapped one of the mirrors. "For some reason, this reminds me of _Scooby Doo._ "

Zack grinned. "You mean like how they pull the eyes out of a painting and stare at you from another room?"

"Yeah."

"There's cameras everywhere. Using a gimmick now would be a little ridiculous."

The path had been set up in such a way that it looked like we were walking through mirrors to get to the next part of the tunnel. It made me uneasy.

The passage narrowed to the point where we could only move in single file, and every yard or so ended in a fork or a bend or a four way.

I still had Ippi's scent, so, despite the unreliability of the map, I had an idea where to go.

As for my team, not so much.

To my alarm, when I glanced back behind me, I saw Moe, Charon and Golic marching off to the left while I was going straight.

"Hey!" I shouted after them, but the tunnel suppressed sound.

Julia had enough sense to follow me, but I noticed Lammy following after Jen-Jen, both going left, away from me. "Hey! You're going the wrong way!"

Julia growled in frustration.

"What the hell are they doing?" Zack asked me.

"I don't know," I said. "Maybe the mirror refracted or something."

"That doesn't explain Lammy," Julia said. "She had your _scent!_ "

 _"Yeah..."_

"What do we do?"

I shrugged. "Go after them, I guess."

"Don't bother," I heard Moe saying. "I'm right here."

I turned and saw him stepping out of a frame.

A moment later, my friend had his hands around my throat, bashing my head into a mirror. The glass shattered.

"Moe!" I gasped, grabbing at his wrists. "Stop! It's me, Ellie!"

 _"I know,"_ he growled. _"Goodbye!"_

Zack raised his electric pistol, shooting Moe twice in the head. My friend fell lifeless to the ground.

"No!" I screamed. "How could you! That was my _friend!_ "

"No, Ellie," Zack replied. "He wasn't. He's a fucking clone."

I punched him in the face. " _I'm_ a fucking clone! Can't you see I don't care about that! I loved him! He was my friend, you bastard!"

Wincing with pain, Zack rubbed his injured face. "Ow! Holy shit, you hit hard!"

"I should kill you," I said with tears pouring from my eyes. I thought I'd never cry again, but it seemed I still had some humanity left, after all.

"I saved your life!" Zack yelled. "He was fucking _choking you!_ Dammit, you are so _dense!_ "

"What are you talking about?" I demanded.

"One minute your boyfriend prances off in the wrong direction, and suddenly he's back in the next second, popping out a mirror and trying to kill you?"

 _"He smelled different,"_ Julia agreed.

I reddened. "So...he was a _clone?_ "

Zack gave me a nod. "I guess I should have said `a clone of a clone,' but I'm not sure that's accurate either."

Zack wiggled his front lower incisor and it came out. "Oh great. Now I'll need to get one of those prosthetic things."

I knelt by the body, examining it carefully. "He's wearing the same clothes. Same weapons. Same five o'clock shadow..."

 _"They're clever!"_ Zack said. "I'll give you that!"

Following the scent trail of the rest of my group, I reversed direction, winding my way from dead end to dead end.

I flinched as I heard shots being fired right next to me, the glass shattering.

I stepped around a corner and found a copy of myself dead on the ground, clad in an identical dress and everything.

A gun muzzle popped out of a mirror, pressing against my temple. "Hands in the air. Raise them slowly."

I did. "Moe? Is that really you?"

"Being as I just shot you, _I could ask you the same question._ "

The figure beside me was big, muscular and bald. It could be my friend, or another impostor. "What do you smell, Julia?"

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij sniffed. "It's definitely him."

"It's _me_ , Moe," I said. "You can put the gun down."

 _"That's what the last one said._ "

Zack marched up to the man. "Did the last one say she loves-"

"Shut up!" I hissed.

Moe chuckled. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a finger moving away from the trigger. " _What did the last one say...?_ "

 _"You're like a brother to me,"_ I blurted.

My friend laughed, lowering the weapon. "If you're a copy, you're a damn convincing one!"

I gave him a big hug. "Moe! Thank God! I thought I killed you!"

He grinned at me. "Are you certain you're not a Pod Person?"

I answered, "Not the last time I checked!"

"All right," Zack said. "This is cute, but I'd rather not continue to re-enact scenes from _Enter the Dragon_."

I nodded. "You guys are going the wrong way. C'mon. Follow me."

"Let's form a conga line this time," Zack added. "So we don't get tricked by more Body Snatchers."

"They killed the prophetess!" Golic cried as he darted out from hiding.

"I tried to stop your _thug_ , but he was too strong! He hit me in the head!"

"She was a _false prophetess_ ," I suggested. "She stands in the way of Shasharmazorb."

"But she has and exoskeleton like you!" Golic protested. "She is Shasharmazorb's daughter!"

"I've heard that demons don't look evil, they look like beautiful angels. To deceive people."

The man responded with a solemn nod.

After glancing around for a moment, I cried, "Wait, where's Lacethanny?"

"She ran off during the fight," Moe grumped. "The less I see of her, the better."

We held on to each other as we wandered around in the mirrors.

It was smooth going until we reached a wall of mirrors, each a reflection of me and Moe.

Moe shattered several of them with his electric gun, racking up innumerable years of bad luck.

Four clones emerged from the broken glass, and we had a duel.

At first, Tido hesitated to attack, but Golic said, "Do not let their forms fool you! They are fallen angels! Deceivers!" And they attacked.

"No offense, Ellie," Charon said to me. "But I think I'm going to kill you."

We managed to kill once copy of me, but Charon's gun clicked empty shortly afterwards. Moe ran out of flachettes.

Zack and I killed a Moe clone, and wounded another me. Of course then we were out too.

We tried to steal weapons from our dead enemies, but they shot at us when we made the attempt.

It didn't help that Jen-Jen, who had suddenly come out of hiding, kept tripping me and screwing up my shots. I resorted to kicking her lick a soccer ball every time she came near.

Julia and Lammy tried their best to get in and attack, but in this particular instance, they lacked the element of surprise, and kept getting shot at.

Golic killed a Moe clone with a thrown knife. We now faced two of me, and three Moes.

"It would be nice if you had a grenade up your sleeve," I muttered to the magician.

Suddenly my watch chirped to life. "Would a taser be of any help?" it asked.

"I was wondering where you'd gotten to, Big Bird," I said.

"My apologies. The magnetite interfered with communications."

"Won't a laser drain your battery?"

"Yes, but a fully charged battery will be useless if you are dead. Press the flashing button to activate laser."

Her voice crackled out and became silent after that.

Quickly, I stunned the nearest Moe copy with a miniature lightning bolt, and Lammy killed him, shoving his assault rifle across the floor to Charon.

As my duplicate turned her weapon on the costumed woman, I shocked the dopplegaanger and killed her with my own gun.

The attack put me at risk for being shot by the remaining two Moe clones. I had known this the moment I made my move, but I didn't see any better way of getting through this.

I ducked down, wounding one of them, but the other opened fire.

I braced myself for the hail of bullets, but it never came. The man shrieked and fell over backwards, covered in porcupine needles.

"It's a good thing I woke up from my nap, huh, mommy?" I heard Mark saying.

I glanced back and saw that my son and the others had rejoined the team.

Julia purred and nuzzled against my twin in greeting.

Charon smirked when she noticed Tido among them. " _The Calvary returns._ "

"You mean _cavalry_ ," I said. "Calvary is a place in the bible."

"Are you saying that Bruce Willis is wrong?"

I stared. "Yes."

Upon closer examination, I found that neither Tido nor Simon looked ill, just slightly groggy. "Thank God. I was hoping that stuff wasn't poisonous!"

"It was as poisonous as allergy medication," Wodehouse said. "Has anyone seen my crossbow?"

"You lost it in the fight with those Marines," Zack said. "Remember?"

Simon rubbed his head. "It... _rings a bell_. My apologies, _I'm still recovering._ "

As we looted the bodies, it came to my attention that someone in our party was missing. "Where's Lacethanny?"

"She ran away," said Julia. "Should I try to find her?"

I shook my head. "She's been causing problems."

Despite our recent acquisitions, we were down to six guns, a rifle for me, my twin and Moe, and pistols for Ippi, Zack and Charon. If another battle came, we'd have to make do.

The duplicates had come at us from a tunnel straight ahead of our position, but Ippi's trail went right, so we turned there, and immediately came to a stop in front of a steel security door.

This door didn't appear to be quite as high tech as the other ones I'd seen in other places. It actually had a keyhole, but the mechanism looked as complicated as a safe.

Zack rubbed his hands together. " _This_ looks interesting!"

"Careful," said Wodehouse. "It could be the kind that automatically jams up when you botch the lockpicking."

We'd been taking turns with the suitcase carrying duty. Currently, Hosea had it.

"Can I see that?" Zack asked her.

Hosea handed it over, and the magician set about picking the lock with the skeleton key `lipstick' I had in one of the pouches. "I _thought_ I saw one of these earlier. I had one similar to it when I was doing a Kabuki show."

"Has the Ss'sik'chtokiwij imparted any wisdom to you in my absence?" Golic asked the other cult leader as he watched the magician work.

Tido nodded. "She pointed out my inadequacies as a warrior, and finds my obsequiousness pathetic and sickening. She says she wishes to kill and eat me, but my stringy meat and my lack of personality would irritate her bowels."

"What did she say about the magician?"

 _"He made a comparison to crab Rangoon_ ," Simon groaned.

Hearing a beeping sound, I looked to the back of the group and saw Hosea playing a pocket handheld Wheel of Fortune video game. "Where'd she get that from?" I asked my twin.

She shrugged. "Where does she find anything?"

The door opened, and we found ourselves looking at rows of electronically locked prison cells.

"It's about time you guys showed up!" Ippi called from the one nearest the door.

Ippi's cell had a modern style door made of transparent super tough glass. The only apparent means of unlocking appeared to be a small box with a card scanner, one that you inserted into the lock like one of those chip cards. We'd taken a few security cards from the dead clones, but they didn't work in the lock. I tried asking Big Bird about it, but I'd drained the power on the watch too much, and we didn't seem to have another channel for communication.

Zack dug the ID badge out of my suitcase, the one that said `Jim' on it, holding it close to his eye. "Ah hah!"

"What," I said.

He stuck the card into the slot, then, to my bafflement, inserted the sharpened jacks into the tiny holes in the top and sides of the card.

"What are you doing?"

Jim's ID was a tiny computer, and the silver jacks served as knobs to operate the system. Zack activated a few menus, and Ippi's door slid open.

Looking Zack in the eyes, Ippi said, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm actually glad to see you."

The magician grinned. "Really? _How happy?_ "

Frowning, she replied, "Don't push it."

"On a scale in which ten is romantically intense-"

Ippi snapped her tail. "I said, _don't push it!_ "

The other cells either head dead people, or happened to be empty. The foul smell indicated The Board hadn't done much house cleaning as of late. Someone had set up automated air fresheners to mask the odors, but hadn't done anything with the bodies. Or the flies. My guess was that they punished certain people by locking them in a cell and leaving them there to rot, like a scene in one of those French historical novels.

Not wanting to linger in that place, we all hurried to the end of the cell block as quick as we could. Lucky for us, we didn't need a map or anything right away, as the corridor only ended in a cul-de-sac of prison cells and a leftward leading hallway containing empty, better smelling 9X12's.

Since we could no longer rely on scent, we had to consult the maps, and only Mr. Hattam's, since my evil twins had burned Ippi's to ash.

It was the first time we actually needed them, so we had to figure out our placement on the diagram based on irregularities in the maze's overall pattern, and what Ippi could remember from before she got captured.

Lucky for us, the planners had arranged a cluster of cells in a horseshoe pattern, which looked odd in relationship to the cells around it, and the Abreya could make some educated guesses about pacing, and where to go from there.

We got to a four way, turned right, then right again, arriving at another security door.

Since it had a card slot, we tried the `chip card' again, but then it presented us with a key panel, and neither magician had any powder with which to figure out the code.

I pressed the button on my watch that was supposed to summon Big Bird, but the watch just flickered and died.

"Great," I sighed. "Looks like we're screwed."

I heard beeping.

Zack raised an eyebrow. "Who's got the pager?"

"Do people even use those anymore?" Moe asked.

The beeping came from my suitcase. After digging a bit, I found the pager.

"TYPE IN 04148148140 - B.B.," said a message on the LCD screen.

"Thanks, Big Bird," I said to the ceiling.

The device said "NP. HARD PART IS NX."

She was right. After I typed in the number, a panel slid open and I was looking at a digital scanner that required the placement of an entire hand.

We only had a _thumb_.

"I'll go saw one off," said my twin.

Reading the pager, I said, "Wait."

The message read, "USB PORT."

I read it aloud a few times, trying to figure out what it meant.

Zack dug around in the suitcase, bringing out the stubby flash drive. This he plugged into a port he found underneath the scanner.

A scan light moved up and down on the screen interface, and the door swung open.

We entered a tunnel lined with glass tanks, each containing young clones of myself and Moe, hooked up to breathing and other life support equipment. Several of the me's had their exoskeletons exposed.

Ippi tapped me on the shoulder. "Ellie."

 _"I know,"_ I said. "I don't like it."

"No," she hissed. "Look!"

The Abreya spun me around, and I found myself gawking at dozens of black children suspended in amniotic fluid.

Female children.

All identical to each other.

"Kamara!" I cried. "She was a clone!"


	68. Chapter 68: The Core

It explained everything. Kamara's adult behavior, her advanced intelligence, her killing skills, her sly cunning.

That being said, I didn't feel any better about destroying her.

Zack stared at the copies of my dead friend. "A clone, but not forgotten," he joked.

When I rolled my eyes, he sang, _"Without a mother or a father, just a test tube and a womb with a view..._ "

"Not funny," I said.

He coughed. "Sorry. I admit that was a little in poor taste."

The clones all had wires hooked up to their heads, probably to feed them a simulation filled with propaganda, like the one I'd experienced when we first crashed on the island.

Julia and Lammy sniffed the tanks for a moment, then backed away in shock as what they were sniffing registered in their brains.

"Funny," Moe said as he looked at a row of his twins. "I don't remember ever being in one of these."

I thought about it for a moment. "Neither do I."

Tido and Golic genuflected as they stared at the machines.

"An army of Shasharmazorb's prophets!" Golic cried.

"They are abominations!" said Ssunamrozedrah. She expressed her disapproval by ripping electrical wires and tubes out of the machines. Water and chemical gushed onto the floor.

"Wait!" I shouted. "Stop!"

"Do you wish for them to come out?"

I frowned. "Not...right now."

"Give me a gun," the Ss'sik'chtokiwij said. "I will shoot them!"

"As much as that sounds like a good idea, look at the mess you're making! If any of those electrical wires touch down in liquid, we'll all be in serious trouble!"

"Agreed," Wodehouse said. "Save the property damage for later, when we are leaving."

Ssunamrozedrah let out a frustrated growl.

"We probably shouldn't linger," said Ippi. "They could wake up at any moment."

"Maybe," said my twin. "But they haven't even been trained yet."

"You can hang around and train them if you want," I said. "But I'm going to leave."

Hosea ran her hands across one of the glass cylinders, then pressed her face against it, listening to its occupant sleeping.

"They all look like you, mommy," Mark said.

"Yeah," I sighed. "This is where all my copies came from."

"How do you suppose they made the amniotic fluid?" Charon asked.

"I'm...not so sure they did," said Zack.

"What do you mean?"

"I've heard rumors that they strap women to tables and use them as baby factories."

Wodehouse raised an eyebrow. "If I had not already been eyewitness to the very depths of all that is strange and unusual, I would have advised you to stop reading scandal sheets. However, at this juncture, I'll believe that anything is possible."

"All the more reason to bomb these bastards to kingdom come," Ippi said. "Turn it into another Alaska."

"Wait," I said. "What? What happened to Alaska?"

"The Unified Socialist Nation of Korea," said Zack. "Long story."

I paled. "Are there any other important things I should be knowing about recent history right now?"

"Not...that I'm aware of. You probably already know that the hole country, north and south, is Communist, and the president is part of The Board."

"No," I said. "I didn't."

"It was years ago. Before the big floods took out most of America's radioactive 49th state, and cut Korea down to a narrow strip."

Sickened, I said, "Let's get out of here."

The tunnel through the lab was a long one, corresponding to the long tunnel we'd taken on the opposite side of the wall, according to the map.

If we had explosives, we would have gotten to the place a lot sooner. It's nice to want things.

"Did you see anyone back there?" I asked Simon. "I mean, when you were catching up with the group?"

 _"It has been quiet,"_ the man answered.

"Let's hope it stays that way," said m twin.

"The machines that produced the darts were a challenge," Ssunamrozedrah said. "But I melted several of them into uselessness."

We marched silently ahead for awhile.

Hosea pulled out the Wheel of Fortune game again, tapping the buttons and making bleeping sounds as she walked.

"I swear I'm going to break that thing," Charon muttered, but Zack was leaning over Hosea's shoulders, offering hints for answers to the various puzzles.

Even Mark chimed in occasionally, surprising me with an adult level vocabulary that I didn't know he possessed.

"I still don't understand the appeal of that game," Ippi said.

Charon laughed. "That makes two of us."

"What game shows do you have on _your planet?_ " Zack asked.

"On Pathilon, _they're part of sports_ , they don't tell fat people to stand around and answer questions, _they actually have to move around._ "

"So it's like baseball, but they quiz you?"

"No, not like baseball, but you _do_ have to be an athlete. Our spectators tend to be of a higher standard of intelligence than yours."

"Ouch."

"Do you go to a gym to work out?" Moe asked. "Or do you just bench press encyclopedias at the library?"

Ippi smirked. "There's a demand for treadmills that scroll through books. We Abreyas like to think on our feet."

The lab ended at another security door. These kinds of things are generally easier to open from the inside than the exterior, so we had no problem shoving it open. We melted the hinges to make sure we didn't have to deal with getting back through again. I figured it might present a problem if they decided to send clones or soldiers after us, but I decided they'd be inexperienced and, for such a quick method of exit, the risk was worth it.

We entered another concrete tunnel, traveling around a bend, entering another area that showed on the map as a long trombone slider shaped `U.'

Pretty straightforward, no branches or forks anywhere.

The problem was, it positively crawled with insects.

Golf ball sized fleas jumped at us from every direction, fleas with head patterning that resembled skulls. Their large size made them easy to stomp or squish between our fingers, but even insects have brains, so they soon learned to evade.

"Reminds me of my childhood," Charon said with a dark expression.

I stomped a flea. "They had you in those cages, too?"

She nodded. "Believe me, those cages are _nice_ compared to how they used to be."

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij killed the bugs with their claws and teeth. Even Hosea, possessed of a Ss'sik'chtokiwij mindset as she was, occasionally smashed down a flea with her incisors when it got near her face.

"You won't be hungry for lunch," Moe remarked.

Ippi got the worst of it, on account of her fuzzy coat.

"I'd _kill_ for a flea collar!" she groaned as she squished the bugs and itched herself.

"Speak for yourself, space woman," Wodehouse said. "I desire an industrial sized canister of pesticide!"

 _"So I've been upgraded from a Sasquatch to a space woman!_ Guess I shouldn't complain!"

We reached the end of this tunnel covered in welts from all the bug bites, and the damned things kept following us.

The tunnel came to a fork. When we did as the map instructed and turned right, we found our passage blocked by an enormous Buddha statue.

Its mouth came open, and it spoke with an angry woman's voice. The same voice we'd heard in the Unified Government building.

"Stop right there! Come no further! I'm warning you! _Turn back!_ "

I crunched a bug under my shoe. "What makes you think I heed the words of Buddha?"

The statue did not respond.

"I like Jesus better," I muttered.

"How do we get past this thing?" Ippi asked, scratching her neck.

Zack chuckled. " _Look within._ "

"More like _above_ ," Moe said as he scratched a bite. "It's a _statue_ , not a wall. We can go over."

It took some doing, but we squeezed around the thing's massive shoulders.

As we traveled down the passageway beyond, I noticed speakers hanging from the walls and ceiling. For a few yards, we wondered about their purpose, making jokes of it, but then suddenly, without warning, they all came on, blasting us with Black Sabbath's _Sweet Leaf_.

"Wonderful," Wodehouse complained as he covered his ears. "I believe this is how they defeated Noriega."

"What?" Charon said, failing to hear him.

The magician waved his hands in frustration.

Zack, however, was grooving with it. "This isn't any worse than a concert!" he yelled. "If they really want to torture somebody, they should play Yoko Ono or some dinner jazz!"

"What?"

Next on the playlist: _Right Now_ by Korn.

Moe shouted for everyone to duck down, but no one could hear him, so he resorted to shoving team members to the floor.

Lucky for us, the rest of my group picked up on the nonverbal cues, ducking down with him. We scratched as we stared at the source of the attack.

Up ahead, I saw a big Howitzer. I'm not sure what the MM was, 15 or 105, but it wasn't a pack loader. The two female cops from the Disney police were manning the thing, and they seemed to know what they were doing. They had a ramp set up to counteract the recoil and everything.

I guess they preferred to blow us to bits rather than let us escape.

The projectile whipped down a nearby corridor, blowing a wall to pieces.

As they loaded the second shot, we rushed them, firing our weapons.

The artillery piece had a shield, which they hid behind. We dropped to the ground just a second before the big gun fired a second time.

Despite the preparations, it turns out the gun still happened to be rather inexpertly handled.

The force of the recoil caused the gun to fly backwards over the ramp, whereupon it smashed through a wall, broke through the floor, and fell into a hidden basement. The women fired shots at us and fled the scene.

 _"Public schools,"_ Zack joked.

Moe leaned through the hole, taking a look around. "God, I wish we could've gone through here earlier!"

"What do you see?" I asked.

"Those people that claimed to be your parents."

"Still, it'll make our exit easier."

We entered another prison, which, paradoxically, contained actual live human beings. The presence of an elevator explained this, to an extent.

"I bet that one also leads to a Learning Town," said Moe.

The prisoners looked a bit... _rough_. They yelled catcalls and insults at us, then asked us to unlock their cells.

Zack shook his head. "How about _no?_ "

"They're Triple Y's!" Golic cried as he stared at them. "They have bar codes!"

"What's a Triple Y?" Ssunamrozedrah asked.

"Only the worst serial killers humanity has ever produced," said Moe. "I'm thinking we might not want to let them out unless we're desperate."

Our path took us through this prison and left to a dead end.

We checked the map, then checked it again.

"This is the heart of the maze," Ippi said, pointing to our apparent location. "It's supposed to be here."

"Unless our robot friend has been hacked," said Moe.

Zack ran his hands along the walls, the floor. Simon joined him in this strange activity.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Looking for defects. False walls, holograms, that kind of thing."

Julia and Lammy sniffed around the area, but they didn't know what they were looking for, or how to find it.

Golic and Tido prayed to the `Great Ss'sik'chtokiwij Creator' and Shasharmazorb

for guidance and aid, but their prayers went unanswered.

Simon rapped his knuckles against the surfaces, his facial expression reflecting suspicion. "I suppose, if they had truly wished to deny you access to this very important piece of equipment, they may have encased it in concrete."

 _"Maybe..."_ Zack admitted. _"If they didn't just blow it up._ "

But Ippi said, "Trust me, if they'd blown it up, we wouldn't be standing here right now. _This island_ wouldn't be standing here."

Charon put her hands on her hips as she stared at a wall. "It would be nice if we had something like a stud finder, or ground penetrating radar!"

"Concrete is difficult to melt through," said Ssunamrozedrah.

"I gathered that when I saw your big friend stuck in that cell," Zack said.

He laid down on the floor, pressing his ear to the concrete like Native Americans always did in those old westerns. "I think I hear something."

"Great," said Charon. "And how, pray tell, would you reach something, even if it _were_ down there?"

"What if we _climb through that hole that that cannon made,_ " Tido said. "And _walk towards it?"_

"Knowing our luck," said Wodehouse. "We'd only wind up in another maze."

Zack stood up. "I have an idea."

He grabbed one of the unused Howitzer shells from the other side of the prison, laying it approximately where he heard the sound that we presumed to be the ship's core.

With extreme care, he pried the shell open by means of a screwdriver and some steaming alien saliva.

Like a surgeon calling to a nurse during an operation, he remained near his `patient,' extending his hand to the other magician. "Mr. Wodehouse, your radio, if you please."

Simon handed it over, and Zack took it apart, attaching its components to the charge within the shell.

In an engineering feat worthy of MacGyver, he took apart an electric gun, rewired the Howitzer shell into a bomb, and my watch into a detonator, blowing a hole through the concrete.

We stood above the opening, staring at what we'd uncovered.

Whatever it was, it came in a big steel box the size of a window mounted air conditioner, and it had radioactivity stickers and stenciled warnings all over it. A brilliant multicolored glow issued from the seams where the lid closed.

"Well," said Zack. " _We found it._ The question is, how do we get it out of the floor without a winch?"

Ippi cleared her throat. "I...may have an idea of how to do it."

"Please," Zack said. "Enlighten us."

The Abreya blushed green. "I really, _really_ don't want to do this."

"You wanna get out of here or not?"

Ippi sighed. "Okay. I'll do it, but don't make fun of me. This is a common practice where I come from."

She laid down on her stomach, dangling into the hole.

The female took a deep breath, then broke into song...or, at least, _musical sounding utterances_.

A brilliant light, as blinding as the sun, erupted from the hole. Ippi quickly shuffled back, continuing to croon, some alien language song I did not recognize.

The box exploded through the remaining chunks of flooring that blocked it in, hovering in midair above the hole.

Still singing, Ippi waved it over to us.

I noticed, to my amusement, that her song now sounded like a Wava version of REM's _The One I Love_.

The box drifted next to me.

"You have a lovely voice," Zack said.

The Abreya turned greener. "Thanks," she half sang.

She slowed her singing down, and the box floated to a resting spot on the pavement.

Ippi stopped singing, catching her breath. The box, in response, gently lowered itself to a resting spot on the concrete.

"So this is _the thing_ ," I said.

"Is it safe to handle?" my twin asked.

"As safe as a car battery," Ippi replied. "As long as you don't take off the shell or clamp cables of the wrong polarity to the wrong prong, or drop a bomb on it, it's perfectly safe. String energy may be sub nuclear, but it won't give you cancer, not the way we do it. Those stickers are bullshit. Our science is better than yours."

"So," Moe said. "Do we just whistle oldies and show tunes to make it move back to the ship?"

"Pretty much."

That's when I heard clapping.

An antlered figure emerged from the shadows of the opposite corridor, the masked Witch Queen in her dark robe. She continued to clap as she calmly strode forward to greet us.

"I must congratulate you," said the muffled voice behind the skeleton mask. "You've exceeded expectations on every test we've put before you! We _need_ commandos like you to quell all those terrorist cells out there in the world!"

"Yeah," I scoffed. "Like _Christianity_ , and people who value free speech."

The Witch Queen slowly shook her masked head. "Dear, dear. Being a hypocrite really doesn't suit you. Don't you know we both want the same thing? We both want to establish a new order, one with _better laws, morals, and decency._ "

"No, _you_ want to be a god. You don't know what these things are you speak of, and you think you know what's best for mankind."

 _"What about you_ , Ellie? _You killed your best friend!_ "

"I don't have to explain myself to you."

"I suppose you don't. But, as you have already discovered, we did make some _backup copies._ "

A section of a wall behind her slid open and out stepped Kamara.

Another one stepped out of the wall opposite.

"Hello, Ellie," they said in unison.

"The original Ellen Ripley had a childhood friend named Kamara," the Witch Queen explained. "We had hoped her presence would stir up genetic memories, restore lost information. The results were not quite to our liking, but we _did_ manage to produce some very interesting killing machines."

The old man in charge of the Moloch cult stepped out in the hallway to join them.

"You!" Charon shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "I _know_ you! You used to force me to work in your kiddie whorehouse!"

The man grinned. "You were _delightful_. _I could almost pretend you were a_ boy!"

"Give me your gun," Charon said to my twin. "I'm going to kill that fucking pedophile!"

"It's ` _child lover',_ " the man replied. "I know it's hard, but don't be an intolerant bigot. The gays have their rights, so you need to recognize ours as well."

Since Ellie 2 didn't hand over her weapon, Charon swiped mine, pointing it at the man. "The only thing I'm going to recognize, _Todd_ , are bullets going through your skull!"

The moment Charon fired off a shot, Todd darted behind the Witch Queen for protection.

"She's the one running the whole show!" Zack shouted. "Kill her!"

She and Moe fired their weapons at the woman, and to our surprise she fell over backwards like a felled log.

When we came closer to examine our handiwork, we found ourselves looking at a statue with a hidden speaker beneath its mask. I could see a female figure darting down the corridor, but the two Kamaras had their assault rifles out, firing at us, so we couldn't catch up and finish the job.

A Kamara shot Charon in the leg, hitting an area sensitive enough to force her to the floor. Ippi and my twin managed to kill that clone, but then the other one turned her guns on them both.

Mark shot the other Kamara full of quills, but they were baby quills, due to having used up so many in earlier fights, so Julia and Lammy had to rush in afterwards to finish the job, the three of them coming close to being pulverized by bullets.

No longer protected by his horned guardian, Todd raised a fist, shouting, "Attack!"

Charon attempted to shoot him, but something unseen knocked the weapon out of her hands.

Moe got Todd in the leg, but then the invisible something hit my friend too. My twin and Ippi spun around, trying to locate the source of these attacks.

Ellie 2 found a target, fired. A splash of blood erupted from the air. The next moment she was being flung into a wall.

We all ducked as a floating gun sprayed bullets everywhere. The weapon was aimed at us, so we knew it wasn't Felicia.

The weapon clicked empty, clattering to the floor.

Ippi had shot back at it, but she'd run out of ammunition without scoring any hits.

"End of the line, all of you," Todd said. "Either you join us now, and be our army, or you die."

"Go to hell," Charon answered.

"Now, now, don't you know that hell doesn't exist? _Everyone_ goes to heaven, even child lovers!"

I took the gun from my injured friend. "I've had enough of this."

Seconds later, an unseen force was shoving me into a wall, trying to bash my skull in.

I swung at it with my gun, but, whatever it was knocked the weapon out of my hands and disappeared from my sight.

"Who are these guys?" Moe said, pointing his weapon in a direction far from the red blur I could only see in my heat vision.

I grabbed his arms, turning him around. "It's that way."

He handed me the weapon. "You do it."

The air shimmered, and a scaly green body was shoving me into a wall, clamping its claws around my neck.

"Hey!" Moe cried. "What's Nigel doing here?"

"My name's _Nagahl!_ " the creature growled.

"Kill her!" Todd shouted.

"With pleasure!" The claws tightened around my throat.

I clutched at his muscular forearms, desperately trying to pull them away.

"Hey!" I cried. "Don't do this! We can help you!"

"You didn't help me before," the reptile snarled.

"Things can change," I said. " _Work with us._ "

"Kill her," said a voice.

I glanced over and saw the old man from the Moloch cult.

"Why don't you kill _him?_ " I asked the reptile.

"He won't," said the pedophile. " _We have something he wants._ "

"Don't listen to him," I said. "We can help you free Song."

 _"A lie to spare your miserable life!"_

Over the creature's shoulder, I could see Tido sneaking up with a knife, but the moment he raised the weapon, a floating skull zoomed through the air and struck him in the head.

"The fuck?" Moe exclaimed.

The skull whipped through the air, hitting Tido again, dropping him unconscious to the floor.

My twin lunged forward, striking a spot in the air, and a second assailant materialized.

For a moment, I mistook the boy for an Abreya. After all, he had a brown and gold fuzzy pelt covering his arms, legs and neck, but there the resemblance ended. He was otherwise human.

That doesn't mean he wasn't unusual.

 _He had a pet skull._

The skull hovered in the air in front of the boy, its sockets glowing with an eerie demonic light. The object appeared to be tethered to him by a green energy field, and seemed to be alive.

The skull itself appeared to be made of some kind of metallic alloy, resistant to violent impact.

Hosea sneaked up behind the boy, attempting to, I don't know, strangle him, I guess, but the boy noticed and the skull whipped around, knocking her unconscious too.

By then I was seeing stars from the lack of air to my brain. I knew something had to be done fast, or I'd be down for the count.

Golic, Simon and Hosea tried to help, but Nagahl struck Golic with his tail, kicked him in the groin, and then the flying skull bowled Simon and Hosea out of the way. I'd need to handle this myself.

My karate lessons kicked in. I rammed an arm upward beneath the choking green limbs, striking the creature's elbows.

I brought my arm around, dropping my elbow upon his. I poked him in the eyes.

I would have jumped away and gotten some distance between us, but then the flying skull hit me in the face. It seemed the fuzzy stranger had temporarily overwhelmed my twin, and now he was coming after me.

Worse, Todd had disappeared, and someone had released all the Triple Y prisoners from their cells, preventing Moe and my other friends from helping me.

Julia, Lammy and Ssunamrozedrah launched themselves upon a pair of these crazed murderers, tearing out their vital organs. The violent act scared away half the mob, but the other more unstable individuals remained, operating, perhaps, under the impression that they fought only an unusual cockroach infestation. Plus, I guess, seeing a lot of human corpses dulls you to the fear associated with them.

Zack and Simon acted as a tag team, using sleight of hand and outright dirty tricks to knock escaped prisoners unconscious.

Mark, now bearing only baby quills, attacked the enemy with his wrist spears.

Ippi sang, knocking two of the men down with the flying engine piece. I didn't see what happened afterward, because the reptile was choking me again.

This time, my friends were free to gang up on him. Ssunamrozedrah, my twin, Moe and Ippi beat the reptile away from me.

That left the hairy boy with the skull. As I darted away from Nagahl, he flung his weapon again.

"What's your deal, kid?" I asked. "I'm pretty sure your friend is fighting for his girlfriend, but what's in it for you?"

"It doesn't matter," he said. "They have it, and I'll get it back when you're dead!"

"I can help you," I said. "We can figure something out!"

"That's what you told Nagahl when you abandoned him!"

The skull flew at me, but I saw it coming and ducked.

A prisoner rushed him with a knife, and the boy turned into smoke, disappearing to somewhere I couldn't see, even with my heat vision.

I glanced over to the right, and I saw Nagahl pressed on the floor, with my friends standing on his back, Zack clamping a handcuff around one of the lizard's wrists.

"Nagahl?" I heard a voice calling.

I looked up just in time to see Song being grabbed and carried off by the prisoners, all of whom, I'm guessing, had not been with a female in a long, long time. She screamed.

"Song!" Nagahl yelled. "No!"

In an incredible showing of strength, he threw everyone from his back, racing off to save the woman with one handcuff dangling from his wrist.

The remaining prisoners, the ones left alive, either followed him for voyeuristic reasons or got taken down by my companions.

We checked the bodies for anything of use, but they were prisoners. A couple of the guns taken from the Kamara clones still had bullets in their magazines, but most of it had been used up in the fight.

We checked around the area, but saw no sign of any immediate threats.

"It's clear," said my twin.

"What about the bear kid?" Ippi asked. "The one with the skull?"

"I don't see anything," said Ellie 2.

"And I don't detect his scent," said Ssunamrozedrah. "I think he left us to pursue his own plans."

"Then it's finally over," Ippi sighed. " _Thank God!_ I thought this funhouse from hell would never end!"

Regaining consciousness, Tido groaned, rubbed his head, and staggered to his feet. Hosea slowly stood up, joining him.

"A little help?" Charon called from the floor. Her leg had been bandaged with strips of her cape, but she appeared to be in pain.

My twin and I lifted her to her feet.

"My head is positively throbbing," Simon complained as he rubbed his temples. "Remind me to never play Rugby."

We found the leader of the Moloch cult on the floor, bleeding from innumerable shiv wounds.

"Pedophiles never live long in prison," Zack remarked. "Even with the Constitutional protections."

Despite the injuries, Charon hobbled over to the man and spat on his corpse.

"We got what we came for," Ippi said. "Let's go."

Moe nodded. "Amen to that, sister."

We set off in the way we had come, Ippi playing Pied Piper to keep the spaceship core afloat and moving, me and Ellie 2 supporting Charon.

Due to the enemy's firing mishap, leaving that place proved to be much simpler than coming in. We only had to cross a large hole, and we were halfway to the exit.

Charon slowed us down a little, but even that wasn't insurmountable.

Following my nose, we passed by the bodies of the actors who claimed to be my parents, weaving our way down the zigzagging passage we'd traversed before.

Charon told me to stop.

"I can't take this any longer," she gasped as we let her rest. "Give me a knife."

"What do you want that for?" I stammered.

"I know how to fix this. Knife please."

Tido handed her his blade.

The woman unraveled her bandages, pulled up her leggings, and then, to my horror, proceeded to slice open the meat of her leg below the kneecap.

"No!" I cried. "Stop that! Wait until we get to the ship! We can get Pillow to help you!"

But she kept slicing and cutting, ignoring my protests.

"She's right!" cried Zack. "Field medicine isn't the answer here!"

But Charon had already gouged herself up to the back of her lower thigh.

The woman remained fully aware the whole time, never growing faint. She must have had an incredible tolerance for pain.

"Stop!" I said, grabbing her hand. "What is wrong with you?"

She slapped my hand aside. "Nothing! You don't understand!"

"What, your need to commit suicide?"

"No, _this!_ "

The woman shrieked as if giving birth, and then something bloody and angular unfolded from within her leg, a hidden chitinous digitigrade limb, ending in talons, like a strange bird's.


	69. Chapter 69: Escape

"What," Zack said as he saw the bloody bird leg sticking out from below Charon's knee.

He then shook his head. "Forget it. I don't even want to ask."

She tore strips off her cape to tie off the bleeding parts, but, to my astonishment, she could actually walk unassisted.

Tido gawked her. "You also are a prophetess!" he cried. "Truly the Lord Shasharmazorb has chosen you for great things!"

 _"I'm not so sure about that,"_ she said.

"How did you even know you could do that?" I asked. "How did you know about...that leg?"

"Seriously? How do you know you have a vagina? _It's just there_. _It's part of my body_." She shrugged. "The thing was always trying to get out. I had dreams about cutting off my lower leg."

I nodded. "I think I understand."

"You probably are one of the few that do."

Since Charon could walk, we arrived at the pack Howitzer in no time.

We found the two dead soldiers being devoured by the lions we had seen outside the so-called `church.' I guess the blue gunk had scared these animals away from the fake parents, and they had since moved on to cleaner meat.

Being well fed animals, they made no move to attack as we sneaked by. That being said, our passage did not go unnoticed. Their eyes followed us.

It turned out that not all of them were fed, and they smelled blood. When we arrived at the back end of the damaged pinball machine, we ran into a pack of them, and only after being badly scratched and bitten did we kill them all and climb back through the hole.

The pinball machine was still intact, blinking and flashing. Once our last team member had gotten through, and had set off down the corridor beyond, I noticed Hattam lagging back, picking open the machine's coin box.

"What are you doing?" I called to him, but he didn't answer.

Shrugging, I continued on my way.

A few minutes later, I heard a deafening explosion.

"Zack!" I shouted, stopping in my tracks.

A jumpsuited figure came running out of the dust cloud, covered in powdered concrete. "Did you want something?"

I rolled my eyes. "Next time tell me when you're going to do something like that."

Escaping the maze was practically a cakewalk after that. Thanks to our shortcut, and having defeated our foes the first time through, we encountered little resistance, so our trek to the main entrance proved uneventful.

The moment we stepped out of the maze and into the outer corridor, however, we faced an ambush. The people in charge had sent reinforcements after all.

It was a good sized company of soldiers, all armed and firing at us.

We made a hasty retreat into the mouth of the maze, but they followed us.

"Can you bowl them over with that core?" Moe asked Ippi. "Like you did last time?"

"Not a good idea," the Abreya answered. "Even if it worked, there's enough of them to grab it and carry it off."

"What about blowing them up with it?"

"Use your brain! Even if that didn't kill everyone, it would strand us here!"

All of a sudden the lights went out. The soldiers that faced us had night scopes and such, but an additional distraction manifested itself shortly afterwards: ghosts.

It reminded me of a scene from _Harry Potter_ , or possibly _Casper_ , a swarm of silly looking entities, all hovering in midair, rattling chains and making eerie sounds. The `ghosts' were holographic, of course.

The soldiers laughed and muttered amongst themselves, probably discussing plans to ignore the cute spirits and kill us, but then I noticed a pair of odd figures in bed sheets moaning as they broke through the ranks.

A tall, giant sized `ghost' waved its arms around and moaned its way up to us.

When it and the other ghost handed rifles, pistols and other weapons it had randomly swiped from the enemy to me, Moe and my twin, I knew what to do.

"This is going to be risky," I told the others, "But I want you to run through them as quick as you can. We can't beat them all, but we won't need to if we smash through them and keep running until we get back to the ship."

"What about me?" Ippi said.

"I don't know, sing ` _The Song That Doesn't End.'_ "

"I thought we didn't want them to take the core."

"I don't. We're staying with it."

It worked better than expected. We mowed a path through the small army with the rifles and the box, Mark Julia, Lammy and Ssunamrozedrah ripping at the enemy with their claws and appendages, Charon and Tido with pistols, and our `ghosts' with knives and guns of their own.

Although I, my twin and my other teammates got wounded a few times, it wasn't serious enough to stop our momentum, and, more importantly, nobody got killed or captured.

I did a quick head count in the tram tunnel, and, seeing that this indeed was the case, rushed everyone back to the hangar.

Our `ghosts' had been Ernie and Sharad.

The former I had guessed, even in the dark, due to the large bulk. The `knife' had actually been the Ss'sik'chtokiwij's claws and tail moving at fast speed. She'd _sown_ four sheets together to make a `costume' that fit her.

Upon seeing me and my team returning with the ship's core, Absolute let out a whoop and ran off to tell everyone in the hangar. Loud cheers erupted the moment we set foot in the chamber, and Caitlyn came running out to hug me.

"Mommy! I missed you! Don't ever leave me again! _Please_ don't leave again!"

I rubbed her head. "Don't worry, honey. We're done here. No more running around. Now we can just leave here and..." I sighed. "Be _a family._ "

Ippi, weary of having to sing the core around everywhere, quickly rushed it to the Iberet with the tune of Pink's _Get This Party Started_.

The android, who had been putting finishing touches on a weld job, set her equipment aside, leading the Abreya up the boarding ramp to the interior of the ship.

Caitlyn didn't let go of me. "Mommy, I just killed someone."

A chill ran down my back. "Who did you kill, Caitlyn?"

"A man in uniform. He was trying to kill us, so I shot him."

"You did what you had to," I said.

"I know, but I don't feel good about it. It's not like a video game where the man disappears. He's still there, on the floor."

"You did it to save lives, for self defense. For our freedom. Sometimes you have to do that to stop evil from happening." Then I thought about the dead clone I killed and buried in my basement. "Jesus forgives you, but those memories will never go away. You'll have to live with them. You have to live with what you've done. Like me."

She craned her neck upwards, staring at my face, as if to visually study how I coped. For some reason, it made me smile.

"You think we'll ever forget, and feel good again?"

"I don't know. I hope so."

Ernie placed a claw on my shoulder. "The water reservoir is full. We even had time to defrost the algae and stock the tank. As we speak, the plants are busy at work producing oxygen. We also captured additional supplies from the air.

"You see, the hero of the movie _Frog Dreaming_ created a scuba tank by filling an empty drum with water and pushing all the air into a second drum. If the movie is accurate, this should provide thirty minutes of breathable oxygen. I did this before our enterprising children discovered the medical oxygen tanks in the other rooms."

Absolute nodded. "They're _heavy!_ I wouldn't have been able to move them without Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik's help!"

"What do you want me to do with this?" Shasharmazorb asked me.

When I looked that way, I saw a slimy black cocoon clamped between her claws, a cocoon with clawed hands and feet frantically wiggling from its interior.

Puzzled, I came closer to examine it.

"Get me out," I heard a voice saying.

"Jen-Jen?"

"You got what you wanted!" the Ss'sik'chtokiwij said. "I know when I'm beat. Please. Let me out of this!"

"I think not," I said. "I'm going to let you sit there awhile, and think about what you've done.

Apparently unable to come up with anything witty to say in response, Jen-Jen just growled at me.

"Pillow has removed her... _BBS Dragon Chip_ ," Shasharmazorb said.

I frowned. "Her what?"

Shasharmazorb growled and shook her head. "I don't know. She called it a Dragon Chip or something.

"A GPS tracking chip?"

"Yes...I think."

Our ship guardians had gathered a good stockpile of weapons while we were gone. This turned out to be a good thing, for the enemy had followed us back to the hangar. Absolute, Bo Peep, my twin, Golic, Tido, Hosea, Ssunamrozedrah and the two magicians took up arms, fighting off the invaders, now coming from both sides of the outer hallway.

"Get in the ship!" I shouted to Shasharmazorb and Ernie. "Take the prisoner with you!"

I rubbed my daughter's stubble. "You too, sweetie. I don't want you to get hurt."

"But Absolute and Bo Peep-" she protested.

"I know you killed someone, honey, but they've killed a lot more. Get in the ship where it's safe. I'll join you soon."

I could see the conflict in her face.

"You heard The General, Private Caitlyn," Moe urged. _"Hup two._ "

The girl's expression grew serious. At once she rushed up the boarding ramp, joining the giant Ss'sik'chtokiwijs.

Reddening, I told Moe, "Don't do that again. I...don't like it."

"How's this different from the last time you used army lingo on the kid?"

"I don't know," I stammered. "It's just...it's too much like what those people want. I'm no general, I'm just a mixed up half alien girl."

 _"And a badass military leader."_

The redness in my cheeks deepened. "That's not what I want, okay? I just want to be normal. Like everyone else."

"Would you prefer if I said ` _do it because your mommy and daddy say so?_ '"

I was too embarrassed to answer that.

Luke greeted Mark by splaying his head tentacles, then gave me a hug. "I missed you, mother."

I swallowed. Me and Luke weren't that close, but it was something we'd have to work on, if we were to keep him from becoming another Sil.

I smiled, rubbed his shell. "Been keeping out of trouble?"

"The young one has aggressive tendencies," Ernie said. "But I and the other Ss'sik'chtokiwij have been keeping him in line. He, Jeremy and Amos enjoy play fighting. That being said, I am surprised by his intelligence. He picked up reading quite quickly for a child of his relative age...Does Mark know how to read?"

"I never had the time," I said. "When we leave this place, we're definitely going to work on some of those things."

Our ammunition jingled on the floor as Jeremy, Amos, Mark, Luke and Julia darted in and out of the room shredding through any soldier that dodged bullets and got too close to the entrance. Sharad would have helped them, but her mother was being protective and wanting her daughter to stay close and watch the young.

"What's the status on the repairs!" Moe yelled through the entry hatch of the ship.

In response, the craft glowed and rose off the floor a foot.

Everyone turned around, running toward the ramp, but a second later, the ship dropped back on the concrete with a heavy bang.

"What's wrong now?" I moaned.

"Ship is missing Ipkomra stabilization circuit," Big Bird's voice said through the vehicle's intercom system.

Absolute showed me a gray microchip-like thing, an object roughly the same size and shape as a quarter. "Would this help?"

I frowned at it. "What's this?"

"I found it while playing wit the vanishing coin trick."

Wodehouse burst out in laughter. "My word! _I had completely forgotten where I put that!_ I have been _beaten_ , _waterboarded_ , and _even subjected to large amounts of electrical voltage_ , but they could not prise the blasted information out of my noggin for the simple reason that I had inadvertently _misplaced_ the bleeding thing!"

I rushed the object into the cockpit, handing it over to Mara.

The android disappeared beneath the command platform for a moment.

When she re-emerged, the compartment filled with brilliant light, and then the monitors displayed a composite image of the chamber that surrounded us.

I could see that the ship was hovering now, roughly a foot above the floor.

"All flight systems active and ready for departure," said Big Bird. "Awaiting your command."

"Give me a moment," I said. "We'll leave when I give the order."

I hurried to the boarding ramp and found that soldiers had broken through, and were rapidly filling the hangar.

"Everyone on board! Get in and guard the hatch!"

We shot down a handful of soldiers, but they kept coming.

"Someone's going to have to stay here," Moe said. "Keep the ground clear until you guys get out."

I frowned. "Yeah, but who's going to do it? You?"

My big friend swallowed, giving me a nod.

"Moe. _You can't._ "

He opened his mouth to reply, but then I saw Morgan and Old Lady Gaga rushing in, picking off enemy combatants as they went. It was pretty much the last thing I expected to see, especially Gaga, but I was grateful for it.

Morgan ran up to the side of the boarding ramp, nearly breathless. "We've got detonators set up on their antiaircraft weapons, and their stores of rocket launchers. You should be clear to go, but I'd be careful. We may have missed a couple."

"Thank you," I said. "Both of you. You want to come along with us?"

Both women shook their heads.

"We've got things to do. You won't be able to leave without our help on the ground."

By now, the majority of my team was inside the ship.

I looked back into the main compartment, addressing them all.

"We need volunteers to stay behind and protect us as we take off. I know it's asking a lot, but we can't leave without help. Any takers?"

Golic and Tido exchanged grim looks and marched out of the craft.

I gave them both hugs as they left. "You guys are nuts, but I'm really going to miss you."

"Do not grieve us," Golic said. "Upon our deaths, we will receive our reward from Shasharmazorb, and be remade into her image, returning as one of her young. Watch them carefully, for there we soon shall be!"

"Sia nok," Tido agreed.

"Um...okay."

Absolute and Bo Peep attempted to follow these two, but Shasharmazorb blocked their passage with a protective claw and tail, hissing at them. They stopped in their tracks.

Charon, with a heavy sigh, loaded a fresh clip into her gun, marching to the hatch.

"You're not coming with us?" I asked.

The woman sighed. "I don't belong...wherever you're going. I may be a freak, but my place will always be here, on a planet where I grew up. Besides, these other freaks aren't going to last a minute without me."

I smiled and gave her a hug.

"Aww, don't get all mushy on me. I'm not that good of a person."

"Very few of us are," I said.

She just clicked her teeth at me. "Take care of your family, kid. Say a good prayer for me."

"I will."

I shook her hand. "Good luck. I hope your plan works."

She left with the others.

Wodehouse practically bowled me over trying to get out.

"Wait," I said. "Where are _you_ going?"

The man cleared his throat. "Your ship is too small, and I'm getting claustrophobic. Upon examination of the individual rooms, I also found the cots far too small, and I can't abide with those dreadful odors..." Indicating the Ss'sik'chtokiwij, he added, "Or the sight of those... _things._ "

"Is that the _real reason?_ " I asked.

" _It's as good an excuse as any,_ " he said with a slight smirk and a twinkle in his eyes.

A gift wrapped rectangular package materialized in his hand. " _For you._ "

I cried, giving him a hug as well.

Simon brushed me off quickly. "Well, no time to waste, got to guard the perimeter!" and he drew his pistol, running to the hangar entrance, where the others were already embroiled in a gunfight.

Nobody else volunteered. We were a family of aliens desperate to leave a planet that despised us.

Morgan glanced at the ceiling. "The hangar gate is up there. Have you figured out a way past it?"

I pressed the intercom button. "Did you hear the question, Big Bird?"

 _"Processing, please wait..._ " I heard a bleep, then something that sounded like telephone hold music.

The gate above us made angry grinding noises in protest.

It cracked open slightly, then slammed closed again.

"Error!" said Big Bird. "Machinery not responding to command signals due to unknown fault. Manual reset required."

"Someone's probably sabotaged the door," Morgan said. "You need someone to run up to the top floor, disable the electrical system, and pull it open by hand."

"If only we had some explosives or a rocket launcher," Moe said. "Something to blow our way out."

"Even if we had something like that, we don't want to damage the ship. The debris could cause a hull breach, or something worse!"

 _"You can climb walls,_ mommy," Caitlyn said. "Why can't you...do that thing from here?"

I gave the idea serious thought until Big Bird replied, "Schematics indicate machinery cannot be operated from the inside. Device can only be restarted from the exterior."

"What about granny?" Moe asked. "Can't she just...climb up there and pry the thing open?"

Shasharmazorb shuddered visibly at the suggestion. "I have been crushed by a large powerful machine before. I do not wish to repeat the experience."

"Why not just _melt it open?_ "

"She'd probably get shot in the attempt," I said. "And something might dribble down or fall and damage the ship. Let's save that idea as a contingency in case nothing else works."

"I'll do it," Ippi said to me. "Get yourself and Pillow's family out of here."

I stared at her. "You sure? I mean, this could be your only chance of getting back home."

I could read the skepticism on her face. I didn't have to be a mind reader to know what she was thinking. We still had the shrouded dead body of a little girl packed away in a storage compartment somewhere. " _Please_ , Ellie. Who are you trying to fool? It's obvious you don't want me here."

What is this? I thought. Reverse psychology?

"But..." I stammered. _"You earned this_. A ride home, I mean."

She laughed. "Are you trying to convince me not to leave, or are you just trying to soothe your own ego?"

I couldn't think of an adequate response to this. At least not as quickly as she wanted.

 _"Don't think about it too hard,"_ she sneered, marching away.

Mr. Hattam gave me an apologetic shrug, following her.

"Wait," I said.

Reddening a little, the magician said, " _I think she's going to need some help._ "

"I realize that..." I began, but he interrupted me.

" _My nephew_ probably needs help too."

At a lost for what to say, I just blurted, "Thank you. I wish there was something I could do in return, but..."

He waved dismissively. " _Fughettabout it._ "

"You're a good guy."

He tossed me something gold and shiny on a chain. I stared at it.

"My father's pocketwatch," he said.

"I...can't," I said. "It's too nice."

He blew a raspberry. "From that old fart? _Please."_ His facial expression told me it had a lot more sentimental value than he let on. "Besides, I have to give you _something_. This may be the last time we ever see each other."

I decided to accept the gift, giving him a hug. "Thank you."

Zack grinned. _"Shucks, ma'am. `Twern't nuthin'._ "

The magician said goodbye to the children, performing a few last tricks for them, appearing to pull a lockpick out of Bo Peep's ear, slipping Absolute a deck of trick cards. He waved goodbye to the Abreyas, giving them farewells in their language. Sharad received a rather fancy looking Chinese finger trap, Nate a double sided coin.

Noting that Ippi was rapidly getting away, he waved goodbye and ran after her.

My twin glanced at me, glanced at the entry hatch, then at Caitlyn. I could tell she was conflicted as I was, wanting to help, but not wanting to leave the children and the Ss'sik'chtokiwij unprotected.

At last she said, "I've got to go with them. They could get into trouble."

 _"You_ could get in trouble," I said.

"I look like the others. _I can blend. I can take bullets._ " She looked around, letting out a soft chuckle. " _Besides, you're the mother._ i think there's something different in store for me."

I sighed.

"Tell you what. I'll meet you on the other side of that hatch up there. If there's anyone who can make a jump like that, it's me."

"All right," I said. "Good luck."

She departed too.

"I should go with them," Moe said. "I don't like heights or flying anyway."

"It never bothered you before," I said.

He reddened. "You just weren't paying attention. I hate flying. Especially spaceships. There's too much that can go wrong. I get clammy just watching it. Even watching Spider Man climbing buildings in a movie freaks me out." He straightened his back. "Anyhow, this looks like goodbye. I love you." 

I blushed. "You've been a good friend... _I'll miss you._ "

Moe frowned. " _Not the response I expected, but I'll take it._ "

He waved goodbye, walking away from me.

"You're not getting away that easy," I said, pulling him into my arms.

Nothing too romantic, just a hug, but I _did_ kiss him on the cheek. "Be careful out there...brother."

He nodded. "Will do, _sister._ "

When I let go, Caitlyn grabbed him, squeezing him tightly, with tears streaming down here cheeks. "Don't leave! I want you to be my daddy!"

Moe rubbed her head. "Sorry, cutie. I don't think it's going to work that way."

Moe and I exchanged uncomfortable glances. "Anyways, you're not going to get out of here alive unless I help your buddies out. Take care of your mommy, okay?"

She sniffed, nodded her head. "I love you, Moe. And mommy does too, she just doesn't say it."

Both me and Moe laughed at this.

"Bye," Caitlyn whimpered. "I love you."

"I love you too, baby doll," he said, kissing her on the head.

I wiped tears from my eyes as I watched him leave.

Using metal storage crates, cabinets and pieces of furniture as barricades, the teammates with weapons crouched at the top of the ramp, carefully picking off the soldiers that came close enough to make themselves a target. The Ss'sik'chtokiwij would have helped them out, but none of them had any projectile weapons.

The boarding ramp retracted into the ship with a protesting groan. Then, with an equal amount of noise, the entry hatch slid closed, shutting us off from the outside world.

Mara entered the chamber, examining the bulkheads.

"Find any serious damage?" I said.

"Negative. Some bullets have penetrated Section 37.88.94.A.3, but I have sealed the breaches to prevent depressurization. The vehicle is still spaceworthy."

She moved on to another part of the vehicle.

I turned to the ship's owner. "Where are your children, Pillow?"

"I put them to bed," she said. "They've had a long day. They should sleep soundly for awhile, at least. I thought the varying sleep phases would keep at least one of them awake, but it's a lot for any of them to deal with."

I could still hear shots being exchanged outside the hull. I wasn't sure who was shooting whom, but for the time being, it appeared that no one was hitting the hull. From what I'd heard so far, we didn't have force fields or deflectors or anything like what they had on Star Trek, so a bullet punching a hole in the exterior would probably be bad news.

I knew it wouldn't be an instant process, getting up to that roof and activating...whatever, but I prayed it would get done, sooner rather than later.

I turned my attention to our cocooned captive.

Jen-Jen had given up her attempts at wiggling out of Shasharmazorb's clutches, but I still felt she posed a security problem.

I knelt next to her, staring at the section of her face plate I presumed to be at level with her hidden eyes. "The way I see it, going forward, you can either have a life that is easy, or a life that is really hard."

"Life is already hard," she said. "If it were easy, I'd still have my old body. Can the good cop-bad cop routine. I'm not buying it!"

"Fine," I said. "But listen. Right now, I can't trust you enough to let you run free. But when we're in space..." I frowned, thinking of what sabotage she could do, even then. "What I'm trying to say that I really would prefer not to have to shove you into a storage compartment. _You're a_ Ss'sik'chtokiwij _._ You could be part of the team, if not part of a family."

"Maybe I don't want to be part of your stupid team. Maybe I didn't want to be dead in the first place! Did you ever think about that?"

I sighed. "That isn't a thing we can change. What I _can_ change is whether or not your voyage to our new home is enjoyable, or if you're going to be a complete asshole about the whole thing, and you end up spending every night locked in a cabinet."

"You're going to _space_. There is no night."

I shrugged, indicating that this was exactly my point. _"You think you're miserable now..._ "

Jen-Jen growled. _"You don't scare me._ "

I rolled my eyes. "Shasharmazorb, stick her in a cabinet."

Shasharmazorb opened an empty one, shoved the young Ss'sik'chtokiwij inside, and closed her in, sitting down in front of the door.

Pillow asked me, "We're going to get my husband, aren't we?"

"It's your ship," I said. "I just hope the little excursion doesn't put us all in danger."

Hearing the sound of an explosion, and the rumbling of debris, I leapt to my feet. "What was that?"

Pillow rushed to a computer near the ship's hatch, activating a screen that displayed live video of the ship's exterior. I leaned over her shoulder to get a better look.

Through the cloud of dust, I could see that someone had demolished the entrance, creating a barrier between us and the enemy outside.

Only Golic and Tido stood guard around the ship, firing at the soldiers trapped in the room with them. My other teammates, presumably, fought the enemy on the other side of the barricade, or were on their way to the door mechanism.

Eight soldiers against two. Golic got hit in the leg.

"We should do something," I said, picking up a rifle.

Sighing, Pillow opened the hatch, and I leaned out, shooting the GI nearest our craft. Bo Peep, Ssunamrozedrah and Absolute joined me, taking down three others. Tido ran through the last one with his knife.

I looked up at the ceiling. The gate was still closed.

Since we still only hovered a foot off the floor, I hopped outside, helping Golic into the ship.

"You got anything to help this guy?" I asked Pillow.

The Abreya looked depressed. "They took away the good medical machine, but I'll see what I can do."

She rattled off something in Wava to Sharad (about supplies or something), the latter disappearing into a lower area of the Iberet.

Since Weyland's people had taken away Pillow's small robotic surgical devices, her method of removing bullets was rather ordinary and terrestrial, the only difference being the usage of some healing chemicals found only on Pathilon.

"I guess our goodbyes were premature," I said to the man.

Golic answered, "We shall see. If the enemy breaks through that wall, I may need to return to my post. I have committed my life to Shasharmazorb. It has been returned to me this hour, but I will gladly offer it again for the sake of her freedom."

"Remind me to eat him when this is all over," Shasharmazorb said. "There is only so much of this nonsense I can tolerate."

Seeing Ssunamrozedrah Lammy and Julia hopping out to devour our dead enemies, I figured it was as good a time as any for us to eat.

The fare was meager, just rice, vegetables and some meat product I couldn't identify, but it it was filling enough. Hosea, Golic and Tido all had some. I also gave a portion to Mark, but he wasn't too keen on the taste, so he didn't eat that much.

"You'll think about it differently when you're hungry," I said.

The stuff had been Camille's idea. "You'll have to forgive me," she had said as she heated up the leftovers. "We're trying to meter this stuff out to last a long time, so I couldn't bring all the good ingredients out of storage."

I said, " _We have_ good ingredients?"

This made her laugh. "Well, _not really, but it sounded nice,_ didn't it?"

Caitlyn, who had been trailing behind me this whole time, asked, "Are you going to make us work on fractions too? I mean, it's boring without the video game."

"Let me ask you this," I said. " _Do you know_ how to do fractions?"

She reddened, shook her head.

Absolute, who had been watching from one of the plant couches, held up a notebook. "In the game, you just had to guess which answer it was. You didn't have to figure it out. This way is much harder, especially since we don't have that much paper."

Bo Peep, seated next to him, had a history book open in her hands, looking very confused. "Aunt Camille, I thought the Nazis started World War II because they were racists who wanted gays and black people to die. This doesn't make sense!"

Camille set down the dishes she'd been cleaning. "It's a little more complicated than that. World War II started because of World War I. The other countries were giving Germany a hard time because of what they did in the war, so the Germans fought back. I'm not defending all the horrible things they did, but the whole country of Germany was bankrupt because of all the penalties from other countries."

"But they deserved it, right? I mean, they started the first war because of racism, didn't they?"

"No. They didn't come up with racist policies until Hitler came around."

"Are you a Nazi, Aunt Camille?"

She sighed. _"I most certainly hope not_! The people these days, they throw that term around at anyone they don't like. Anyone who doesn't agree with them is automatically a Nazi."

"Are we safe in here?" Absolute asked. "I mean, I know that busted up wall is in the way, but..."

"I really can't tell," I answered. "I'm sure someone with explosives could blow the thing back open."

I could hear Jen-Jen yelling and pounding on the cabinet door, but I ignored it.

"You think she's got enough air in there?" Bo Peep asked.

"I don't know," I said with a shrug. "I doubt it's completely airtight."

The power went out in the hangar,but our vehicle still had lights on. I couldn't tell right away if this were a good thing or a bad thing.

Having nothing better to do, now that we had the enemy temporarily at bay, I helped Caitlyn with her math assignments.

What's embarrassing is that I wasn't that much better than her at it. Thanks to the cocoon, my body had advanced to adult while my brain had skipped school. When it came to multiplying and dividing fractions, I had to ask Camille and Pillow for help.

This is going to be a strange trip, I thought to myself. Three children to babysit, and only Camille and a couple religious nuts to serve as my adult peers. Human ones, at any rate. I supposed there was Pillow, and Ernie's Ss'sik'chtokiwij family, but they wouldn't be able to help me become more like a normal human girl.

The gate came open much sooner than any of us expected.

When I heard it grinding open, I popped my head out the hatch, just nervously watching it for a full minute.

"Big Bird," I said. "Did you do that?"

"I am unable to access any of the necessary functions required to activate that machine. _Abalardo, however, may have provided some assistance to your companions..._ "

"I wish we had a radio. Then we'd at least know what's going on."

"The stage magician used it to make an explosive," Tido said.

I frowned. _"Yeah..._ "

"Big Bird, are you detecting enemy units up there? Beyond that door?"

"Insufficient data. Recommend armed inspection of the area."

"There's only one hatch on this ship," I said. "We'd have to spin like a top to cover all avenues of attack."

"I strongly advise against this course of action."

"What, do you want us to _climb_ up there?"

"That is a possibility, but also consider the strategy employed by armored divisions in World War II, where infantry soldiers rode their tanks into battle."

 _"All right..."_ I glanced at my team. "I need gunners who can climb."

Absolute picked up his rifle. "What are we climbing?"

I winced. "Uh, thanks, but I'm not sure you qualify."

Without a word, Ssunamrozedrah armed herself and climbed out the hatch, disappearing somewhere above our heads.

"I'll do it," said Sharad.

I gave her a nod, waving her on, but Pillow shouted, "No you're not! You've put yourself in enough danger already, young lady!" and many other things in Wava.

"I can climb and I have weapon skills," said the daughter. "What about you?"

Pillow swallowed. "All right, you can go. But _be careful!_ "

The Abreya joined Ss'sik'chtokiwij on the roof.

"If you can lift me, Prophetess," Tido said. "I will join the others."

I stared at him, briefly considering the idea.

"Thanks, but I think you should stay back here and guard the hatch."

"As you wish."

Julia picked up a weapon.

"Daughter!" Ernie cried. "You know how to operate such instruments of death?"

Julia shrugged her shoulder plates. " _I can try._ "

"What about you?" I asked the mother.

Ernie cringed. "Would it be acceptable to merely _maim_ the enemy? To incapacitate in a non-lethal way?"

 _"Sure,"_ I said. "Every bit helps."

The two climbed up top.

Seeing as I had everyone I found remotely useful already moving into position, I strapped two guns to my back and hopped out of the hatch.

"Mommy!" Caitlyn wailed. "You said you wouldn't go!"

 _"I'll be right upstairs,_ " I said. "Watch your brothers. Make sure they don't get into trouble."

I pushed the intercom button. "Big Bird..."

"Wait," Pillow said. "Not yet. I'm going to the cockpit. I don't trust those _artificial things_ with the controls. A ship of this type requires a skilled pilot with a tail."

I glanced at her stump. "No offense, but how much of a tail does this machine really need?"

She blushed green. _"I've heard of pilots using less than this._ "

Pillow instructed Camille and the children to watch her babies, then ran off to the ship's interior.

Giving a Caitlyn a reassuring wave, I climbed up the side of the Iberet.

This wasn't exactly like climbing up on an airplane. The surfaces were rounded and much more sheer. The sticky parts of my bare feet gave me just enough traction for this to not pose a serious problem, but it was a struggle.

The others with me, similarly equipped, were already in position, keeping a vigilant watch with their weapons in hand...or claw.

"It's clear!" I heard Moe shouting from the door above us. "Get that thing up here now!"

"Did you hear that, Big Bird?" I called down.

In response, the craft hummed upwards so quickly that I slipped and rolled to the edge, coming close to falling off.

As I scrambled to regain my footing (and my guns) the barrier of rubble at the entrance exploded inward, and a platoon of green clad men charged in, firing their weapons.

My roof team gathered on the side facing them, firing into the crowd as the Iberet sped upwards. We got hit a few times, but the majority of the attacks seemed to be directed at the easier targets, those in my team firing from the hatch, or parts of the craft they deemed vulnerable.

From time to time, Moe and a couple other people I couldn't see leaned over the door in the ceiling, giving us some cover. While this was nice, a few shots strayed, one hitting Ssunamrozedrah, the other damaging a part of the ship. Whatever it was, it sparked a lot and belched out smoke.

The overhead door came closer, a big gray rusty looking thing. I sincerely hoped it wouldn't close before we got there.

The doors were big sliding metal sheets. Shasharmazorb would have had to be twice the size of our vehicle to even attempt to hold them open wide enough for us to get out.

Shots raised down on us, this time not by mistake. I heard a few weapon reports, then a wounded soldier tumbled through the opening, breaking his back on the roof of our spaceship. Ssunamrozedrah shoved him off the side, into the enemy platoon.

A blast of hot wind loosened my footing, jarring me free from the panel I stood upon.

I slipped, grabbed the nearest piece I could hold on to, then scurried down when I saw the shadow of the door rushing at my head.

Sparks flew as the door scraped the Iberet's hull. I spider crawled downwards and forward, where the shadow hadn't come yet, praying that my sticky pads wouldn't give way.

The craft zipped upwards. I clenched my teeth, digging my claws into the hull, but the metal was unyielding, so I gained no purchase. Worse, it burned me like a handful of dried ice.

Eventually the burn became too great and I had to let go.

Clang! The sound, so close to my head, was piercing, filling my ears with ringing.

I fell, hit something hard and metallic.

My eyes bugged out when I came to the realization that I'd only fallen less than a foot.

Truthfully, I'm still not sure what happened. Somehow I managed to escape the doors as they were slamming shut, but, it would appear, not quite as much as I would have liked.

As I lifted my head, I discovered, much to my horror, that I couldn't pull it away from the sheet of metal I'd landed on, and my leg, likewise, appeared to be immobilized, stuck to the crack in the door.

Imagining myself to be mortally wounded, with my brain sliced open, I screamed and reached around the back of my head, but then discovered my skull did not drip blood at all, and all my brains were intact.

I flopped back on the metal, letting out a hysterical laugh.

Seeing a big shape rushing towards me, but being unable to see the details due to the dirt in the wind and the sun and the light and temperature disturbances of the ship's engines, I raised my gun, but then the figure fired three shots at someone behind my head, one that I was unable to see.

I heard a body thud to the ground, then the big shape drew a knife.

"Hold on," it said. "I'll get you free in a jiffy."

"Moe?"

"Forget me so soon?" he said with a laugh. He cut something behind my head. "Hate to mess up your pretty hair, but I gotta get you unstuck!"

And so he sawed through my curly locks until I could raise my head all the way.

"My leg..." I said.

He grinned and shook his head. " _One day you're going to look back at this and_ laugh!"

With that he made a couple slashes through the fabric of my dress, and I was completely unstuck.

Looking down, I saw that was all that had been damaged. Both legs still remained intact. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me just yet, _little sister_. DAMBALLAH's still after you. You'd best be getting on that ship and high tailing it out of here."

The hangar door stood amidst the gravel roof of the hospital. From this height, I could see the idyllic man-made lake with its islands, bridges and fountains, surrounded by wooded areas and glass and steel office buildings. Learning Town stood off to the right, obscured by trees and its tall concrete barrier. Behind me I could only see trees.

Near a roof mounted air conditioner, the door to a pillbox stairwell hung wide open, its mouth littered with dead bodies. As I stared at it, five men burst out, and I ran back just moments before they started shooting.

Charon, Ippi, Zack and my twin, present with us on this roof, shot back, and the stairwell was clear for a moment.

I ran up to Ippi. "Where's the others?"

"Still alive, last time I checked," she said. "They'll be fine."

She nodded to the ship's hatch, where Ellie 2 was already climbing onboard. "You should go. They're bound to send reinforcements."

I swallowed. "Ippi, I just want to say, I forgive you. For everything."

Rolling her eyes, she said, "What's that bring it down to? 470?"

I shook my head. "It's been reset to 490 again."

"But we're still not friends."

I reddened. _"I didn't say that._ I just said I forgive you."

She smiled. "You're a good girl."

"You should come with us," I said.

"Sorry, kid. No can do. There's still anti-aircraft weaponry that needs to be disposed of."

"We'll come back for you," I stammered.

Ippi looked pained. "No. Leave me. I'll be okay."

She glanced at Zack. "we've got a magic show in the works. It's going to be _real big_. You'll probably be able to see it from space!"

"What about the children?" I said. "I know that a lot of them died, and the ones that remain might be a little crazy, but there are exceptions. There are human guinea pigs..."

"Let me and Morgan worry about that. You just concentrate on getting out of here."

Her tail brushed me in an affectionate way as she turned from me, running to the stairwell with her gun ready.

I saw Tido jumping out of the craft, running to Charon.

He said something to her, but I could hear her saying no.

And then she kissed him.

Actually, _she made out with him_. I was so surprised by what I saw that Moe had to push me out of the path of a bullet.

A soldier had been gunning for me. Moe shot her down.

"Watch it," my friend warned. "What's got you so distracted anyway?"

Tido climbed back into the craft, leaving Charon on the roof.

"Nothing," I stammered. "It's none of my business."

Ssunamrozedrah, Ernie, Julia and Sharad had already boarded, so I was the last individual from the `away team' to `beam up.' Waving goodbye to Zack and Moe, I did what Ippi said and jumped into the ship's hatch.

The Iberet rose higher in the air. I reached for the button that closed the hatch.

"Hey!" I heard a voice shouting. "Don't leave without me!"

A pair of meaty hands clamped onto the hatch frame, then a set of muscular arms pulled the rest of a bald headed body through the opening.

"Moe!" I cried. 'I thought you hated heights!"

 _"I did,"_ he said. "But I hated being without you even more."

I stared at him, feeling awkward. I really wasn't sure I shared such romantic feelings, but I _was_ glad to have his company again. _"It's good to have you back, brother._ "

I and Caitlyn hugged him, then turned to watch the island slowly shrink below us.

A sudden bang startled me. It sounded like thunder, but when I leaned out the hatch, I saw a great cloud of smoke rising from the trees.

Seconds later, a flak tower attached to a nearby office building exploded. Other sites followed immediately afterward, pillboxes, barracks, tanks, anti-aircraft installations.

 _"Damn!" I_ remarked. "You guys work _fast!_ "

"We have your friend Morgan to thank for that," Moe said. "Let's just hope she doesn't miss a spot."

It turned out she had neglected a German World War II museum piece.

At first, anti-aircraft weaponry didn't trouble us, the explosions having disabled the major installations. The Iberet escaped the confines of the central compound, passing over the fake city I'd once called home. I watched the buildings blur past the cockpit monitors as Pillow operated the controls.

Abreyas had a special device designed to aid pilots with diminished tails. A few cranks of a lever adjusted the fit of a sleeve and fastener attached to a steering yoke behind the seat. I helped her with this. She manipulated other aspects of flight by means of a pair of Millipede style track balls and a computer mounted to the side of her seat.

Her tail pushed back the yoke as she turned one of these orbs, speeding us toward the eastern shore.

"Big Bird," she said, pushing buttons on the little screen. "Show me the location of my husband's dwelling."

A map of the island appeared, a little blinking triangle indicating our location, and a red dot showing her husband's. When she steered our vehicle int hat direction, I heard several popping sounds, and I found myself being flung sideways into a wall.

"I have adjusted our course to avoid anti aircraft weaponry," Big Bird announced.

"T-thank you," Pillow stammered. "I-I guess you're not so bad, after all."

I now lay on a cluster of monitors below the command station, my skin turning clammy due to all the screens showing me how high off the ground I was.

"You okay down there?" Moe called.

"Yeah!" I gasped. "Fine!...I thought Ippi and Morgan had disabled all the anti-aircraft guns!"

 _""I seem to recall her saying something a lot less final._ "

"Plating in lower hull sections damaged," Big Bird said. "Mara, please make the appropriate repairs."

The android, who had been plugged into the hardboxes at the time, disengaged herself from the system, marching out of the cockpit.

"Weapon analysis," Big Bird said. "Flakvierling 20mm model 38. Capacity 800 rounds per minute. Range: 4800 yards. Requires minimum crew of five for efficient operation."

"How many do they got down there?"

"Insufficient data. External sensors have been damaged."

"It doesn't matter," said Moe. "Unless we can figure out how to shoot a target from 4801 yards away, we'd better just steer clear of it."

The ship jostled all around, making me wish I had a seat belt. I could hear things crashing around in other rooms, items that hadn't been secured to the vehicle as much as they should have been, and the sounds of growling and complaints from unsecured passengers.

Despite all this commotion, we remained in flight, coming to a smooth and even stop outside the prefabricated concrete hut with the cross painted on it.

"What a cute little house!" Pillow exclaimed when she saw it.

"It _is_ pretty nice," said my twin. "I used to help him fix it up."

By then it was dusk. I didn't see anyone outside, so we landed, and I got out to retrieve him.

The house didn't have any locks. Obviously, The Board could march in any time they wanted, so such a precaution would be meaningless. Fearing an ambush, I brought Moe and Ssunamrozedrah along with me. Pillow insisted on coming with, despite my warnings, but it turned out I didn't need to worry. Nobody from the Organization had planned this far ahead.

It wasn't late enough for David to be in bed, apparently. We found him sitting on a couch in the living room, arm draped around Sarah as they watched Simon Pegg's _The World's End_. The baby snoozed in Sarah's lap.

"Well," Moe said. _"This is cozy._ "

"Nice place," said Pillow. "How much of it did _you_ decorate?"

David sat up with a start. "Oh my God! Pillow!"

He let go of Sarah, rushing to greet his wife. They exchanged a passionate kiss.

Moe crossed his arms impatiently. "Ahem. _Let's not exchange our freedom for a conjugal visit._ The ship's waiting."

 _"The ship!"_ David pulled away quickly. "You got a point."

He waved Sarah over. "C'mon."

Pillow stared awkwardly at Sarah and her human husband for a moment, clenching and unclenching her fists.

She forced a smile, shaking the girl's hand. " _Dusaq._ "

Sarah bowed low before her, responding with something elaborate and flowery in Wava.

Pillow gawked at David. "You've been teaching her!"

"I hope you approve," he said.

The Abreya frowned. "I'm...not sure. We can discuss this further in the Iberet."

We rushed out the door, with David, Pillow and the baby close behind, but I could already see clouds in the distance, vehicles racing on an intercept course.

Moe shot drones out of the air. Planes would not be too slow in following.

Upon boarding the craft, Big Bird exclaimed, "Danger! Systems detect RFID tracking devices!"

Pillow took out her surgical tools. "David. Couch. Now."

"Yes, ma'am." He paled when he saw the laser scalpel. "You sure there isn't a better way to remove those things?"

`Seriously?' her expression said. _"Trust me, I know what I'm doing._ "

"Does the plan involve an auto pilot?" Moe said as he stared out the hatch. "If not, we're about to be in deep sh-"

The moment he said this, the Iberet lurched and zoomed into the sky, speeding over the Pacific.

On a viewer, I could see fires erupting on the island, tremendous explosions all along the coastline. More anti-aircraft and military installations going down, I supposed.

"You nicked me," David complained to his wife as she continued to operate.

"I can't help it," she replied. "Now hold still."

As she cut the tracker out, we shot further and further out over the ocean. Big Bird warned us about drones and helicopters, but there wasn't much we could do about it.

"Hey, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik," David called to my Ss'sik'chtokiwij friend as Pillow worked.

The former had been leaning close, observing the proceedings with interest.

"Lord, you've gotten big!"

Ernie purred.

"Keep still," Pillow scolded.

Despite the violent movements of the craft, Pillow got her husband's tracker chip out and threw it into the ocean, removing Sarah's shortly afterwards.

The baby proved to be the most difficult. The chip had been placed in a delicate location, and the rocking motion of the ship as it evaded our attackers' weapons, and the furious movements of the baby made the operation dangerous to its own health, but eventually Pillow got the device removed and dropped into the sea with the others.

Thus finished, Pillow rushed back into the cockpit to supervise our speedy escape.

The Iberet darted into a thick mass of dull orange-brown clouds, smog and greenhouse gases, that, although bad for nature, hopefully served to obscure our passage and hide us from the enemy.

In seconds, we were soaring past the stratosphere, into the dark midnight of space.

From the bridge, I watched the dirty-blue white marble shrink beneath us, gathering thousands of miles of distance.

From the hard box, I heard a recording of _Keep It Warm_ by Flo and Eddie:

"Kill another whale with your power...

Or shoot a bunch a kids from a tower...

Snipe them in their cars,

Blood keeps them warm...

Or make a better world from the old one...

Make yourself a baby and hold one,

Hold her in your arms and keep her warm..."

I stared back at the world I would never see again, considering all the injustices and wrongs contained therein, but I was only one person, my power to effect this debauched nation insignificant in the face of so many corrupted individuals.

In the end, I could only turn my back on it all, and hope that God would rain down his judgment swiftly and severely, and restore His order, the one its inhabitants rebelled against with such an intense and terrible hatred. If the Lord God would do nothing to stop this, I could not possibly hope to do His job for him.

Let the soulless masses devour each other as they sink into the depths of the hell they've made for themselves. I've at last found a way out.

Much later, I would hear about what happened to Felicia, Amy McAllister and her ex, and the rest of those mutants, aliens and misfits we'd let loose from DAMBALLAH's facilities. The group, collectively called the Tribe of Pazmadax, appeared in several news reports, and was written most extensively in the reports of Wurbsova Morgan. I confess I don't know much else about them, but it's good to know that they at least escaped and managed to make a life for themselves on earth, as corrupt and terrible as it has become.


	70. Chapter 70: Exodus

We saw space stations and ships orbiting around the earth, but nothing seemed to have given us much notice, other than a few confused radio communications.

Considering what I'd seen and heard on the earth, I was surprised that mankind had actually gotten into space in any meaningful way.

I actually saw a domed building on the moon, and later would see other manmade structures further out in the solar system.

The board had concentrated the majority of its resources on preventing our escape. The weapons. The soldiers. The traps. They could have easily stopped an army of human beings.

Up until this point, they had anticipated our every move, but now we had accomplished something that seemed impossible. For this reason, we detected no sign of pursuit, and thanks to the alien technology, we were able to put great distance between ourselves and anyone intending to capture us.

My companions and I watched our progress from the bridge of the cockpit, gripping straps and handles like bus passengers due to David, Sarah and their baby occupying the sofa at the rear of the chamber, and there being no other available furniture except for the captain's seat. Luke hung from a railing nearby.

Big Bird's new offspring appeared to be slowly developing on her own. She crawled across the monitors, testing, I suppose, the boundaries of the equipment.

As our vehicle shot past Mars, Caitlyn said, "Are we going to our new home now, mommy?"

"Not yet, sweetie," I answered. "We need to rescue Zeke and Matthew from the Auriga space station."

"Newt is there too," Ernie said. "We must include her in the rescue efforts as well."

"Looks like we've got our work cut out for us," said my twin.

We entered the Mars-Jupiter asteroid belt, which did not in any way remotely resemble the asteroid belts I'd seen in films.

Your spaceship would have to be massive to have a problem with the asteroids I saw. Although we at times had to negotiate our way around a couple boulders the size of houses, and steer to avoid a few rocks the diameter of one of those immense party beach balls, debris generally happened to be miles apart.

We swung around a massive rock, one which I mistook for a moon at first, landing on a dusty gray plateau.

"When will we be burying that little girl?" Pillow asked.

I sighed. We hadn't really discussed funeral plans. Guessica had wanted to do something to please the Ss'sik'chtokiwij, but it felt cruel to me somehow. "I had this idea of burying her on Pathilon, you know, to symbolize, or somehow bring her to that new home she'd never get to see. I suppose we could just as easily jettison her into space like Spock on Star Trek...you know she wants to donate her body to the Ss'sik'chtokiwij, don't you?"

"I don't like that idea. I know she may have _mentioned it..._ "

"All the more reason to wait on the funeral preparations," I said. "We don't even know if we're safe yet. In fact, I hate to say it, but we don't know if there's going to be _more funerals..._ Of course, I guess we should take care of it soon, right? I mean, it could _smell..._ "

"She's in a storage compartment near the exterior. The cold of space and the engine should take care of that...I suppose we can wait."

And so we tabled the discussion for the moment.

"What are we doing here?" I asked the pilot.

Moe, who had been clinging to a wall ladder next to me, remarked, "More importantly, _are we certain that this thing isn't alive, and won't end up trying to eat us?_ "

"You watch too many movies." Pillow said. "I have a sneaky suspicion that you're going to be a terrific buddy for my husband."

"I'm sure he will," said Caitlyn. "He's a good guy. One day he's going to be my daddy."

I blushed furiously. " _We'll see._ "

I resolved, if and when I got this child alone, we'd have a little discussion about a few things.

"So _what are_ we doing here?" I insisted.

"Abreyas have set up communication beacons in certain asteroids," David said. "That's how signals can be sent from Pathilon to earth, and vice versa."

"It might be able to detect other things too," said Pillow.

"Are we safe for the time being?" her husband asked.

Big Bird spoke through the ship's speakers. "Sensors indicate no sign of enemy vehicles."

Mr. Barnes unfastened his seat restraints. "My new daughter has gone for too long without her father!"

 _"Check on our other babies too,"_ Pillow said in a casual tone. _"I'm sure Sharad has her hands full._ "

I could see the dismay on the man's features. Pillow must have noticed it too, for then she commented, "Don't give me that look. You know as well as I that this is not going to be a traditional family arrangement, but you're going to love all five of your children like a good father."

"Where is our nennop?" David asked, red faced. "I need to talk to her."

"Honey, Thonwa just passed away."

"What!" he cried. "When did this happen?"

Pillow told her husband about the whole thing. He burst into tears.

"It's not fair! She was such a nice...bug!"

Ernie wrapped her chitinous arms around him. "I'm sorry. I miss her too." She sneezed with emotion.

Pillow came over and hugged him as well, then Sarah.

David wiped his eyes. "I think she'd be proud of me showing emotion."

"I think so too," Pillow said.

Ernie tilted her head from side to side. "I confess I do not know much about what it is to be a nennop, but I am willing to make the attempt, if you so wish."

Mr. Barnes sighed "No offense, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, _but you haven't done such a good job so far..._ "

Noting how depressed the Ss'sik'chtokiwij looked after he said this, Pillow put a positive spin on her husband's assessment. " _He means you don't have enough counseling experience_ , dear."

 _"But plenty of experience in doing the complete opposite,"_ David grumbled.

He left the room to check the babies.

Sarah followed him out.

I stared at the rocky landscape multiplexed across the monitors. "So where's this beacon thingy?"

"We should be within a few kilometers of the object."

The Abreya flipped through menus on her computer.

"What do you intend to do? You said you're a missionary ship. You can't send an army, can you?"

Her facial expression seemed to say that she could.

"Since we are no longer on earth, there is a much smaller risk of starting a war. I'm sure my government wouldn't mind sending at least one military craft to our position for protection."

"Wouldn't it take a long time for them to get here?" I asked. "What if we move? What if we run out of food?"

"I can update them on our position."

"What if DAMBALLAH finds our signal and tracks it?"

'They won't. "We're going to follow established transmitter routes."

"Is _the Auriga_ one of those routes?"

She sighed. "I don't know."

Big Bird's voice spoke to us through the intercom. "USM Auriga detected near dwarf planet Pluto."

" _So much for that,_ " Pillow groaned.

She activated menus on the computer, clicking buttons.

"What are you doing now?" I asked.

"Perhaps I can tell the army to meet us at a station past Pluto."

"Or at Pluto itself?" I suggested.

She paused in thought for a moment. "You're right. That's a much better plan."

She clicked a button and a large alien symbol appeared on the monitors. The speakers played the associated audio, the hymn, _How Firm a Foundation_.

Bo Peep and Absolute crept into the room, staring with puzzlement at the screens.

We saw a jumble of Abreya bodies, then Matt and his wife appeared on the display.

They were clothed this time, clad in matching purple outfits that resembled Native American buckskin tribal costumes, though Matt's had the strange addition of a clerical collar. They also wore crosses around their necks, and hats that resembled flower pots.

"It's Veaxy," Pillow gasped. "I completely forgot!"

"Pillow!" Matt shouted. "Praise God! You're all right!"

His wife muttered something in Wava.

Matt muttered something back, then, addressing Pillow, "We've been worried sick! Not a day went by that we didn't pray for you. You were gone for such a long time. We thought you'd died, or worse!"

His congregation was cheering.

"I see you've got your ship back-" He stared at all the unfamiliar faces in the cockpit. "Who do you have with you?"

"It's a long story," Pillow said.

Matt's eyes bugged out when he saw Julia strolling up to the monitor. "Oh my God! Is that one of those things from Wuxrinus?"

 _"They're friends,"_ Pillow explained. "They've saved our lives more than once."

Matt gawked at Ernie. "How many of those things you got onboard?"

"Enough. It's not important. It turns out that human beings are far more dangerous."

"I find that hard to believe," said the man on the screen. "But I'll take your word for it."

I smiled at him but he didn't seem to recognize me at all. I guess it made sense. He hadn't seen me after the transformation.

"Who is that, mommy?" Mark said from my shoulder.

"It's Matt. He's a friend."

"I'm sorry for the silence," Pillow said to the screen. "I got into some trouble, but there wasn't much I could do to get out of it. You know the Ponxozna ruling on missionaries. You probably would have come rushing to save me by yourself and gotten your fool ass captured."

Matt scowled at her. "Pillow, you know that isn't right. _We could have helped you!_ "

She just rolled her eyes and shook her head. " _There are laboratories full of people like you down there!_ You would have needed an _army!_ "

"Is that Matt?" I heard a voice cry from the other room.

"Mother?" Matt said.

Camille rushed into the cockpit, gawking at the screen. "Matt! Oh my God! I thought I'd never see you again!"

"Mom! What are you doing there?"

 _"Coming to see you, of course!_ "

"She was a prisoner," Pillow said.

Matt swallowed hard. "How did this happen?"

We explained it to him, and he wept. "God, it really is the endtimes."

"You mean like the end of the world?" my twin asked. "Maybe. But I don't think we'll be seeing any fantastic magical battle of giant _visible_ superpowered beings. They say the Devil likes to convince people that he doesn't exist, and God tests people's faith by hiding Himself. It sounds like providing proof is bad for both of them.

"No, it'll just keep getting worse until everybody's dead. All the more reason why I never want to set foot on earth again."

Matt frowned. "I admit some people's concept of the end of the world is too convenient because it implies they won't have to do the work God created them to do, but I believe there will be a final judgment. The Lord is a just God."

 _"I haven't seen much of His justice myself,"_ Ellie 2 complained.

Matt opened his mouth to say something else, but my twin blurted, "Look, I'd love to debate theology with you all day, but there was a point to this call. We need military support. We're away from the earth now, so we should at least be able to acquire an armed escort. _If it isn't too much trouble._ "

"You'll have to excuse her rudeness," Pillow apologized. "We've been through a lot...we _actually do_ need some help."

Matt frowned, staring at us as he considered the request.

David entered the chamber, bearing his half human daughter.

Matt gasped. _"Is that...?_ "

Pillow nodded.

 _"It actually worked?_ "

David held the half alien half human baby up for him to see. "Her name is Quana. _Pillow's idea_ , but your late wife _was_ a pioneer of the Quaceb faith."

Matt laughed. " _Your baby is in good company. I've baptized quite a few Quanas lately._ "

"So if you shout Quana in a crowded shopping mall," said Moe. "Everyone will turn around and look at you?"

Matt stared at my friend. "Who is _that guy?_ "

"He's...a clone," said David. "It's complicated."

 _"A lot of complicated things have happened,"_ Pillow added.

All of a sudden, the screen filled with static. When Matt's picture returned, he had no audio, then the video became choppy.

Pillow squinted at the fuzzy picture. "We have some interference. I think we should probably just send you a text version and cut this transmission short."

"So you need an armed escort."

"Yes. Anything you've got. But if possible, something with thick armor, and something that can destroy human spaceships."

Matt stared at her with dismay. " _Destroy...human spaceships...?_ "

"This is a _war_ , Matthew. My companions have _killed people_ to escape from a really bad place."

The man on the screen swallowed and nodded. "I'll see what I can do...You're going to need to broadcast a signal so we can track the ship. Can you activate your Ixpebi beacon?"

Pillow shook her head. "We don't want to advertise our position to the enemy."

"Then how are we supposed to find you?"

Pillow glanced back at me, furrowed her brow, then said, "Look for a human space station near Pluto. The USM Auriga. We're staging a rescue effort there."

"I don't like the sound of this. You know what it sounds like? _A trap._ "

 _"That's why I suggested you arrive armed_. Listen, Matt. We only have a limited supply of food and air, and we have _friends_ that need rescuing."

"You mean more of those bug things, don't you?"

"So what if I am!" Pillow cried indignantly. "We wouldn't be here talking to you right now if not for them! _We owe them!_ "

Matt let out a reluctant sigh. "I'll see what I can do," he repeated. He cleared his throat. "Still, I'm happy to see you alive and well, and _with a new baby!_ Praise God for _that!_ "

 _"Guep..."_ "

 _"Dohsoq nan,_ Pillow."

"Goodbye, friend."

The transmission cut off.

"We're right next to the receiver," I said. "And yet the signal seemed a lot clearer on earth, and I was under the floor of this ship! What's the deal with _that?_ "

"It's difficult to say. Perhaps the transmitting station is malfunctioning, or we're at an angle that's obscured by space debris. Sometimes the signal gets stronger at night. It could be something to do with the signal passing through human made satellites, too." She punched a few buttons on her computer. "Anyways, we've relayed the message. Let's go rescue our friends."

The rest of the team had situated themselves in other areas of the ship. Lammy, Jeremy, Ssunamrozedrah and Hosea slept in a semicircle around Shasharmazorb, recovering from the weariness of battle. I suspected we'd need all the rest we could get for the next operation.

Tido and Golic remained close by, watching Shasharmazorb like a guru.

"Beavis and Butthead," Moe said with a chuckle.

"Why did you stop?" Shasharmazorb asked me. "Who did you speak to?"

"We're on our way again," I said. "We just needed to call for more help. We're going to rescue your family as quickly as we can."

Mara emerged from the lower level. "Hull breach repairs are complete. Oxygen loss minimal. Ship's power levels adequate for reaching Pluto. I will be happy to see my granddaughter."

"You mean my great granddaughter," Shasharmazorb snapped.

The android froze. "I respect your familial boundaries. However, it would please me greatly if you would call me daughter."

"I will not be doing that. You are a _toy._ "

Mara whimpered rather unconvincingly. I mean, she _is_ a robot. "You've hurt my feelings. _Sad mode._ "

Shasharmazorb growled in annoyance as she watched Mara slump her shoulders and fail at crying.

Shasharmazorb's plates drooped as she watched this performance.

With reluctance, she reached out, placing a consoling claw on the android's shoulder. "Do not be upset, machine. You are a very useful toy. You will always be my granddaughter's favorite."

"I am confused," Mara said. "This is not reciprocated affection."

"No," said Shasharmazorb. "As an older Ss'sik'chtokiwij, I do not play with dolls. That being said, you are a valuable machine. I will always try to keep you clean and undamaged."

I put an arm around Mara's shoulder. "I don't know how well you're programmed, but on earth, maybe elsewhere, sometimes the person or alien you love won't love you back. It's a fact of life you just have to accept."

Mara stopped posing like a mannequin. "I...am aware of the problem. My late husband said that when it happens, I should `move on.' But I have also been told the value of persistence. The two concepts contradict one another, and I have no clearly defined parameter of behavior."

"That's a very human problem," I said. "But you don't take risks all the time. You have to be somewhat thoughtful about it. You don't want to be desperately clingy or a stalker type."

"The best love puts others before oneself," Ernie agreed.

Tido and Golic had their wounds bandaged now. They seemed rested and not as bad off as I thought.

"Prophetess," Tido said to me. "Not to put this indelicately, but one of our number, specifically the Shasharmazim, has left her body, and has volunteered to give herself freely and sacrificially to the Ss'sik'chtokiwij."

"Yes," Golic agreed. "She wished to be a _host_ , or _food_ , perhaps. It would honor her memory to give them the remains."

"I am not hungry," said Lammy.

"Nor am I," Jeremy said. "I just ate."

"She's in cold storage," I answered. "I really think we should wait until we have everyone together. In the meantime, I think we should all get some rest."

"Speaking of which," Ssunamrozedrah said. "I am concerned about the travel arrangements. These `Abreyas' have machines called `Gojibis', which place individuals into cryogenic stasis, but there isn't enough for all of us. If we do not starve, become dehydrated or slowly go mad, we may die from old age while the sleepers continue on in relative comfort."

 _"The containers are much too small for_ Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik _and_ Shasharmazorb _,"_ Hosea added.

"We'll take this one step at a time," I suggested. "Maybe we can jury rig something."

Seeing the solar system is cool, but we didn't have time to do a space walk, so seeing the planets go by the monitor kind of reminded me of a fancy science center exhibit. Plus, this wasn't the scenic route, and unlike what they show on TV, the planets do not always align in a neat little row. We saw Jupiter in all its glory, but Saturn turned out to be a tiny red dot, and we never came close to it. Honestly, it didn't matter, as long as we could get our friends and flee to our new home.

Jen-Jen was pounding on the cabinet door again, and whimpering. I guess there _had_ to have been enough air in there.

"Are we going to keep her in there forever?" Bo Peep asked.

"I don't know," I said. "I suppose it'd be okay to take her out if she's still cocooned. I just put her in there because she was a distraction and I thought she was going to cause problems again."

I paused. "Any particular reason you're so concerned for her well being?"

Bo Peep shrugged. "I just thought you should treat folks like they want to be treated. Plus she's family, right? Like me?"

I swallowed. Bo Peep was technically my daughter now. I mean, those two cult weirdos weren't exactly fit parents for her...

"Yeah."

I gave Shasharmazorb a nod. "Let her out, please."

The big Ss'sik'chtokiwij dragged out the cocoon. For a moment, I just stared at our captive, trying to formulate my words.

"Where are we?" the Ss'sik'chtokiwij asked.

"We escaped the island. We're out in space. We can release you, but I need you to understand that we're all in this together now. If you sabotage this ship, it not only affects us, it will put your own life in danger. Are we clear?"

The Ss'sik'chtokiwij looked puzzled. "I...think you should tell this to Jen-Jen."

I groaned in frustration. "How long have you been in control of...your body?"

"I just woke up," she said. "Don't worry. We share the same brain. I will forward the memory of this speech to her when she awakes."

"I am sorry that this happened to you, daughter," Shasharmazorb said to Lacethanny. "You are developing into a very beautiful Ss'sik'chtokiwij."

The ship didn't have a nursery, per se. The Barnes children had been placed in a padded chamber, which, I have heard, once housed the egg that Nathan hatched from. The children's father had done his best to make the infants comfortable with cushions, blankets, and crudely constructed microgravity restraints.

Mr. Barnes, Sarah and Shard had their hands full in there. Pillow couldn't leave the cockpit, so it was their duty to tend to the infant's every whim.

"David," I said. "I...I guess I'm going to be a parent. Actually, _I am_ a parent..."

"I think that's apparent," he joked.

I reddened. "I'm new to this, okay? I don't know if I can handle everything that I...have to handle. I was hoping you..."

"Advice?" he said. "I'm not a nennop. I'm new to this whole parenting thing myself. This is actually the first time I've been able to spend quality time with my children. Well, other than little Pontias." He gestured to the human baby.

"I thought you named him Haman," I said.

"Yeah, but I had to change it, since we have two Haman's now. I don't want them to grow up confused." I thought I saw David shudder a little when he glanced at the mutant child, but he said nothing about it. "I wasn't much of a father to Nathan, and I haven't even seen my other children. I think Camille knows more about it than I do.

"Tell you what. When we get to Pathilon, I'm going to see about getting nennops for both of us. I think that will really turn our lives around."

"I forgot. What's a nennop again?"

He explained the extra family member, the eunuch live-in psychologist. It seemed like an awkward idea, but at this point I was willing to try anything.

"Maybe we can help each other," I suggested. "Give each other advice. Trade ideas."

"Invite them over to play? I'd like that."

Moe, who had been listening in to all of this, muttered something to me about figuring it out together, but I answered, "Please, Moe. Not right now? Can we talk about this some other time?"

" _When_ do you want to talk about it, Ellie? _We're not busy right now._ I'd like to know _something._ "

So far, Moe had been the only romantic choice available to me. Who knew? There might be another, if I just waited a little longer, maybe on Pathilon. Sure, they might not be human, but neither am I. I still wanted to `play the field.' "Moe, you're a good friend..."

He rolled his eyes. " _But you don't want to ruin it._ I understand." And he walked away, looking a little depressed.

I didn't bother following him. Besides, I could still see him stretching out on the alien couch thing.

As I wandered the ship in search of a bed to rest upon for a couple hours, I discovered Camille holding an informal classroom session in one of the rooms, English, by the looks of it. She'd found some little alien tablet computers somewhere, instructing Absolute, Amos and my twin on how to use grammar and sentence structure as they worked on little essays on their experiences.

Apparently they don't teach that kind of thing in schools anymore, the computers automatically suggest generic sentences that are already perfect, but have no creative life to them.

Camille invited Caitlyn to join the `class', and work on the device Amos had finished typing on. Mark and Luke, who had been trailing me, crawled up on the jellyfish-like bed the students sat upon, studying the work on the devices with interest.

I sat down next to the teacher. "You don't know how much I appreciate this. I don't know how to be a parent, so I'm going to need all the help I can get. Can I count on you to be my mentor?"

She smiled, rubbing my shoulder. " _It doesn't look like I'm going to be doing anything else for awhile_. I just hope you, er, _eventually find a way to pay me back for my babysitting services._ "

"I'll do my best," I said.

She pointed to the computers. "I know we only got two of these, but do you need any lessons?"

"Um, no thank you, ma'am. I went to school, at least for a little bit. I actually _like_ English. And art. It's other stuff like math I kind of have trouble with."

"I'll be glad to tutor you, any time."

"Right now, I think I just need to rest, and get ready for what we got planned."

"I'd recommend including _prayer_ with that."

Nodding, I allowed her to lead a good prayer for us and the mission.

I thought I'd have a nice quiet place to rest in the bedroom next door, but while I'd been busy talking to Camille, Sarah had pulled Ernie and Julia aside, and now the three sat in the little room, having a very awkward discussion.

"I realize that I may have...impregnated you, _after a fashion,_ " said Ernie. "But I'm uncertain if a marriage is something we should be considering. You must understand that our offspring, if it can truly be described as such, was a one time experiment, produced by means of artificial apparatus we no longer have access to. It is not something we can conveniently repeat in a normal human-like method, as harmless and beneficial to both parties as it was.

"I am sorry that David does not claim you as a wife, but he is already married, and not only that, their, ahem, _cooperative efforts_ have produced actual offspring."

"But they used an apparatus too!" Sarah protested. "I love you, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik!"

"I will always hold warm affection for you in my heart," Ernie answered. "But you are depriving yourself of something more practical and emotionally rewarding, something that actually does what your body is designed to do!"

"I've lived my whole life doing what my body is designed to do. Those men in the lab forced me to make baby after baby and I didn't get to see one of them!" She knelt before Julia. "You, Julie, are the first child I can really call my own."

"What about Pontias?" Ernie asked.

"You said that wouldn't work because he's married."

Ernie sighed and rubbed her face plate. "Bigamy is unlawful, but King David had several wives."

"His name _is_ David, Ernie."

"Yes, but secondary wives do not get the same kind of attention a single one would get. I really hope and pray you find an adequate substitute."

"The substitute is you, Ernie."

Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik groaned, backing away from her. "You do not know what you speak of. Find a human man, or maybe an Abreya man. Date him a few times. Then we'll talk!"

"You still need a babysitter for your children."

"Yes, _a babysitter_ , not a wife!"

Noticing me in the doorway at last, Ernie muttered, "Excuse me," and she marched off to the main living area.

I followed her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to eavesdrop."

 _"You did it quite well,"_ she growled. _"And for an extended period of time!_ "

"It's a small ship." I sighed. "Ernie, do you know anything about parenting?"

She purred a little at this. "After the scene you just witnessed?...I know how to care for a pack of Ss'sik'chtokiwij, so yes, to a degree. That being said, our needs are not as complicated as a human's. We Ss'sik'chtokiwij do not attend a senior prom, or fret about the best dress to wear to a quinceanera."

"Anything would help," I said.

She grinned. _"I will do my best._ "

Moe lay on the couch, pretty much dead to the world. I gazed at him as he snored, contemplating our future, wondering what degree of closeness that would involve.

I left the living area in search of my own place to crash.

The room Ernie had previously occupied now lay empty. I found a sleeping bag attached to the floor, strapping myself into it, but I only closed my eyes for a minute before Jen-Jen took over Lacethanny's body and came rushing into the room in which I'd been resting, clawing at my throat.

"You bitch!" she screamed. "You fucking evil bitch! I'll see to it that you pay for this, if it's the last thing I do!"

My throat was unharmed. She had only exposed the glistening exoskeleton beneath my skin. _"Someone's a sore loser._ "

"I'll kill you! I'll kill you!"

Ssunamrozedrah stepped into the room, grabbed Jen-Jen by the tail, and slapped her against a bulkhead like a dirty rug. Jen-Jen wailed in impotent rage as the large Ss'sik'chtokiwij dragged her out of the room, muttering about cocooning her afresh.

I tried the `sleeping thing' again. David's babies awoke at all times of what could be considered night, driving us all nuts, but we put up with it.

Moe shook me awake before I could even hope to recover from all the fatigue I'd been put through in the last week. "We're here."

I stumbled into the cockpit, rubbing my bleary bloodshot eyes in attempts to focus on what I was seeing.

Floating near the spherical tan-white ice cube of a dwarf planet, I saw a massive gray space station, a mystifying ribbed structure vaguely shaped like a crucifix.

I was not the only one who noticed the seemingly religious significance of the construction.

 _"It's a sign,"_ David said.


	71. Chapter 71: Adios Auriga

A chill ran down my back as I stared at the dark space station, my mind filling with scary images from movies I'd seen. Disney's _The Black Hole_. Event Horizon, which I'd sneaked into the family living room late at night back when I was still a kid being raised by human parents.

"So what do we do? Just hook up to a docking bay and knock on the door?"

"If we announce ourselves, we might end up with an armed greeting party," Moe said. "I think we may have the advantage of surprise right now. It would probably be best if we just break through one of those docking areas and fight our way in."

Ignoring radio transmissions asking who we were (I guess we didn't have a complete advantage of surprise) we swooped down to one of the ports on the dark side of the station, aligning our entry hatch with the space station's.

One thing they never mention in scifi movies is the fact that an extraterrestrial ship may not be able to form a perfect pressure seal against a human airlock due to the irregular unmatching configuration. It's analogous to the problem you'd have bringing a European blender into the United States without an adapter. We had to sort of ram against the docking port, `trading paint', so to speak.

The Iberet had its own airlock, but only one space suit. We were lucky to even have _that_. This made our boarding party rather limited.

Shasharmazorb insisted that a Ss'sik'chtokiwij could survive in the vacuum of space without imploding, and Mara didn't need to breathe (her inhalations and exhalations were all simulated, mostly used for cooling her machine organs and filtering pollutants out of the air for humans to breathe, so she retained no air that could rapidly decompress), so she, Ssunamrozedrah and Ernie went ahead of everyone else to work on opening the airlock.

"Watch the kids," my twin said to me as she suited up.

The suit looked stupid with an empty tail sleeve dangling from it, but someone from The Organization had stolen David's, so we were stuck with the Abreya version.

"I want to help," I protested. "Maybe you could send that thing back when you're inside."

Caitlyn was tugging on my arm, shaking her head no.

"Caitlyn, honey," I began.

"You can't, mommy," she said. "You have to stay with me. Now."

Ellie 2 smirked at me. _"You heard the young lady._ "

Shasharmazorb was correct in her assertion. Ss'sik'chtokiwij did not implode in a vacuum, though I thought they probably should.

Ssunamrozedrah dragged Jen-Jen along with her, the latter wrapped in a cocoon with a ropey sort of cord fashioned from the same gooey material. "My dog needs some exercise," the older Ss'sik'chtokiwij had joked as she yanked on Jen-Jen's `lead.'

A couple times, Ssunamrozedrah teased Jen-Jen by dangling her over the side of the ramp, as if intending to release her into the depths of space. I could see the exchange from a monitor, Ssunamrozedrah pantomiming a threat, since there was no medium to convey sound.

It appeared as if Jen-Jen understood, for the settled on the ramp and passively observed the others work without making a move.

Excited with the prospect of observing an astronaut mission at work, Jeremy rode on her mother's shoulder, tail wiggling happily as she looked around at everything.

Mara and the Ss'sik'chtokiwij melted and lasered panels open, the android rewiring the station's security mechanisms to allow their entry.

With the landing ramp extended like it was, our activity reminded me of pirates overtaking a merchant vessel on a gangplank...with no gravity.

The station's hatch came open. They disappeared down a corridor, and the airlock slid shut a minute later. Big Bird told me it had more to do with alarms than caring about the Auriga's oxygen supplies. This made us all anxious, but there wasn't much we could do about it.

Abreya ships often carried a special sealant called `Prock' in their repair kits. The substance had fluid properties, but became as tough and durable as concrete when exposed to ultraviolet light. While we waited for someone to send back a suit, David and Pillow, wearing gloves, applied the substance to sheets of plastic and bits of metal (like an umbrella, a gun cleaning rod or a liner from a cabinet), supplementing parts of their device with cocooning substance from the Ss'sik'chtokiwij.

"How do you know it's going to be the right size?" I asked.

"Big Bird told us the measurements," David said as he shined a UV light on a coated sheet. "It'll be a little smaller than the airlock, so we can just push it into place. The real trouble will be sealing the other end."

I didn't have anything better to do until we got the space suits back, so Moe and I helped them with the fashioning of this... _thing_.

It was a team project, actually. We all busied ourselves locating useful pieces to put together to build the object. Caitlyn and Absolute thought it great fun, like Tinker Toys or an Erector Set. Bo Peep asked if she could paint it, but I said we didn't even know if would hold up.

David and Pillow helped with the construction, then, complaining that she spent too much time caring for the babies, she took over the task of coating sheets, leaving David to tend to the nursery.

Camille and Sarah scoured the craft for useful supplies in this endeavor.

"It's so quiet in here," Shasharmazorb observed as we worked. "The Jen-Jen should _stay_ over there."

"Be nice," said Julia. "There is still good in her."

"I suppose you are right," Shasharmazorb sighed.

Mark and Luke took turns with the UV light, nearly coming to the point of fighting over it.

Golic and Tido did not concern themselves with this operation, but I suppose we had enough people working on it anyway. Instead, they petitioned their god on our behalf.

"Oh worshipful master," Golic said to Shasharmazorb. "We have done much to help you escape from that wretched place with your family. Would it dishonor you to ask something of you in return?"

"I have not killed you," gmer answered. "Is that not enough?"

Golic and Tido murmured to each other.

"She is right," Tido said. "We do well enough to remain in her good graces, for her judgment is swift and fierce."

"Surely that is not the only reward for being steadfastly faithful!"

Shasharmazorb sighed. "What do you want from me?"

"Make me as you are," Golic said. "A Ss'sik'chtokiwij"

Shasharmazorb growled, clearly annoyed. "You ask for the impossible."

"We have seen the miracle of Jen-Jen. Begging your forgiveness for contradicting your word, but _it is_ possible."

Shasharmazorb resignedly put her chin in one claw, a very human gesture. "I will lay an egg on this new planet we go to. You may there make the attempt of accomplishing what happened to her, and Hosea. You will _not_ make any such tests with my current children."

The two men appeared to be overjoyed, chanting praises to her.

 _"I regret this already."_

An hour passed with no word from our boarding crew.

"Big Bird," I said to the ceiling. "What's going on over there?"

After a delay, our computerized friend answered, "I will transmit myself into the space station and check for you. In the meantime, please be patient with Abalardo and direct all questions to her."

I frowned. "All right. Good luck with that."

The larva appeared on one of the screens.

For some time, I had noticed the curious appearance of Big Bird's young, but wasn't able to put it into words, or find sufficient grounds for comparison, but now I thought I had at last figured it out.

The larva most strikingly resembled one of those fuzzy orange-brown worms on Sesame Street, though with feather-like plating similar to its mother. A very odd combination.

She coached us on how to best construct our tunnel.

"Does God really hide Himself to test the faithful?" Caitlyn asked me.

"I...don't know, sweetie. I'm sure other people besides the faithful want to see Him too, so I think there's more to it than that."

"Blessed are the pure in heart," Pillow said. "For they will see God."

"I guess I'm not that pure, then," I said. "I haven't seen that much of Him."

"That can easily change."

"Didn't you say you went to heaven, mommy?" Caitlyn asked me.

I _had_ told her the story of the incident.

I sighed. "I...well, you know how scientists say that kind of thing is just what your brain does when you're dying? I...I'm not really sure if it's really heaven that I saw or not...And I've seen a lot of really terrible things out in the world that make me doubt."

"But what if it was real? What if you _really did_ see Jesus and all that?"

I smiled a little. "I can only hope that I did. It would make everything I've been through a lot more worthwhile. There'd be a point to all of this."

"No one hopes for what they already have," said Pillow. "What did you see when you... _died?_ "

I told her about the experience.

"That sounds very scriptural, I mean, in comparison to some of the near death experience stories I've heard. Even if it was just something your brain did (scripture tells us that nobody but Jesus has come back from the afterlife), isn't it enough to give you hope that there's a real one out there just like it?"

I nodded. "I guess you're right."

"In the human world and other places of great sin, we are often alone in the darkness. But God puts us in these situations to shine His light into the shadows. S even if it is as your twin as said, and we don't see signs and wonders from heaven, we'll always have that light with us, and maybe, even if we do not win, someone will see enough of that light to be saved."

"Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik has returned," Abalardo announced through the ship's speakers thirty minutes later.

By then we had completed this pitiful lopsided excuse for a boarding tunnel, well, as close to completing as we were going to get.

Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik was alone. She left the station's airlock, knocked on ours.

When we let her in, she informed us that the others were still searching the place for our missing loved ones.

"Matt is on the other side of the airlock," she said. "He was eager to come with me, but I strongly advised against it. I hope he does not continue to persist in this foolishness. We desperately need a small space suit, but I was unable to find any at this location. Perhaps a wider search, possibly around the other airlocks..."

She stared at our art project. "What is that?"

When I explained the concept to her, she volunteered to help set it up. "It's brilliant!" she cried with excitement. "How clever!"

Disaster struck the moment we attempted to put the plan into practice.

At first, everything looked good. We closed the airlock, Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik standing outside, using her slime to attach our crudely fashioned tunnel to the outer airlock of the space station.

But then, unexpectedly, every electronic device in the entire ship lit up at once, and the Iberet broke free from its tenuous moorings.

Our wobbly construct, more or less `built with duct tape and chewing gum', snapped apart at just about every joint that didn't have Prock applied to it.

I could see Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik mouthing silent screams as she tumbled away from the station.

I watched helplessly as Ernie struggled to avoid falling into the void, making desperate grabs at every piece of metal and plastic that chanced to pass within reach of her claws. Although gravity didn't exist there, my friend could easily drift away from everything solid and either fall to her death on Pluto or tumble endlessly through nothing until she passed on and her movement lost momentum, leaving her as a fixed piece of dead space debris.

Sure, we could try grabbing her with the ship, but one mistake could knock her across the galaxy like a pool stick hitting a cue ball.

I clenched a ladder handle as I observed her clenching her teeth, scratching at the station's outer hull.

Her claws caught on the imperfect plating. She scrambled upwards.

At last she reached the station's airlock, regaining her footing on the structure's small little ledge.

I couldn't hear what she said, but her body language said, `I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do.'

The ship sped on.

"What the hell is going on!" I shouted as I ran to the cockpit. "We nearly lost Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik!

"I can't control the ship!" Pillow yelled as she frantically scrolled through menus on the computer. "Someone's overriding the navigation systems! It's all been deactivated! I've tried everything!"

 _"Then what are you doing now?"_ Moe asked.

Pillow sighed. " _Hoping I'm wrong._ "

Sarah rushed into the room. "We have to go back and get her! She's going to be my husband!"

"What do you think we're trying to do!" Pillow shouted. "Calm down!"

Sarah fidgeted anxiously. "Hurry!"

"I'm trying!"

"Abalardo!" I cried. "What's the meaning of this! I thought you were Ernie's friend!"

"This was not my doing," said the animated larva on one of the monitors.

"Yeah? Then who is?"

Abalardo froze. "Processing..."

After waiting a whole minute and getting no response, I blurted, "Never mind. I'm sure we'll find out soon enough. Is there anything you can do to help us regain control?"

The digital larva shook her head. "I am sorry, but the new operating system has quarantined me inside a module with restricted directory access."

I frowned. "Can't you do like _Lawnmower Man_ and wiggle around firewalls and stuff?"

"Unfortunately, it isn't that simple. Although I _do_ have the ability to bypass security systems in a method similar to what you describe, the command structure of the new operating system is so far advanced beyond my limited capabilities that it may take me several weeks to negotiate through its myriad and variegated environments enough to even begin to unravel its source code.

"Worse, it appears to be learning from my attempts, as it also possesses an intelligence. All communications are being blocked to and from the Iberet."

"Is there anything we can do manually to stop this thing?"

 _"Processing. Please wait._ "

A whole minute later, she answered, "Supplies and equipment inadequate for the required operation."

"What if we shut down the power?" I asked.

"This will not eliminate the foreign program any more than it would eliminate malware from a laptop. Ship controls would not be restored."

"So there isn't a manual override?"

"System requires computerized equipment. New operating system has exploited this defect to retain navigational control."

I heard Shasharmazorb shrieking in protest from the living area, the others making desperate attempts at calming her down.

"Can we improvise something?" I suggested. "You know, jury rig together something that kinda sorta works?"

 _"Processing._ "

She went on processing for ten minutes.

I frowned at Pillow. "We should tell Matt."

"Even if we could broadcast a message, what are we going to say? `Help, something has taken over the ship and we're careening off to God knows where?' Not exactly helpful information."

"What if we turn on that tracker thing?"

"And get caught again? No thank you."

I returned to the living area, intent on at least re-establishing order.

Everyone was crying, all of them talking at once, mostly complaints, bad suggestions, or all-too-obvious comments.

"It's DAMBALLAH, isn't it?" Bo Peep asked. "The Board. They somehow took over the ship's controls. That's what it is, right?"

"Negative," said Abalardo. "Coding of operating system does not resemble any known human or Abreya programming language."

"So it's an alien computer virus. You sure it's nobody you know? Another intelligent program?"

"Negative. The complexity of this system far surpasses my mother or even MM7."

Since most of my team had gathered in the living area anyway, I decided to go ahead and give my announcement, explaining how the ship was off course, and that someone had taken control of it.

"My granddaughter and great granddaughter are in that station!" Shasharmazorb growled. "Surely there's _something_ you can do about it!"

 _"We're looking into it,"_ I said. "I don't know how to repair this thing, or how to bypass its circuits, so we'll just have to sit here and stay calm until Abalardo gives us a suggestion about how to fix the problem."

"This is Jen-Jen's doing," she growled. "I knew I should have killed her when I had the chance!"

"We're never going to see Ernie again, are we?" Sarah asked with a sob creeping into her voice.

"We're trying our best, Sarah," David sighed. "We'll get her back."

Lammy waddled into the middle of the room. "I don't understand what the problem is. Why can't we just tear a hole in the floor and _paddle_ the ship back to the station?"

Shasharmazorb gave her a derisive snort, shaking her head. "What you're saying does not make sense. You know nothing of The Void."

"Wait," said Absolute. "Maybe she's onto something! What if we make a hole in the side of the ship and spray our oxygen tanks? Like a _retro rocket_ or one of those _astronaut maneuvering things?_ "

"We'd use up our air," Bo Peep protested. "What if we need it?"

"We could steal from the Auriga. They won't notice it, right?"

Pillow, who had apparently given up on reversing our course, stepped into our little gathering and said, "Even if we shut off the power, it won't work. We'd still be fighting a powerful forward momentum.

"Even now we're building up speed. A little squeeze of air like that won't do anything but slow our speed a fraction. We'd have to shut off the engines completely and create a burst of energy so powerful that it cancels out all movement. Only then would a couple pathetic sprays from our oxygen tanks do any good."

"So if there's an _explosion_ big enough..." Absolute began.

"What are we going to blow up, exactly? _The core_? We're talking about massive amounts of thrust. Even if we had tankfuls of ammonium nitrate, it wouldn't help. We're going too fast."

"So we blow up the core," said Absolute.

"I don't think you understand how dangerous that would be for all of us. Even if it didn't kill everyone onboard and blow the Iberet to bits, we'd have no control over where it went to, and if we somehow used the air to steer to the Auriga, we'd be stuck there forever. This ship would be nothing more than a floating coffin."

"Can we shut off the power and build our own engine from the equipment? I mean, _I saw this guy on Afexun take apart a driverless Toyota and build an oldschool car with it..._ "

"I don't know how to do that," Pillow muttered. "And we'd lose the oxygen system."

"We have _oxygen tanks_ ," said Absolute. "We could just... _use them_ and try to do the bypass that way."

"We'd be dividing a very limited supply of air. What do you expect everyone to do? Take turns?"

"What if we leave the door open to the algae tank and make everyone sit next to it while we work?"

"It's not a refrigerator. The tank is full of liquid that could easily slosh out. We need electrical power to keep the greenhouse lights running and make sure there's a stable ratio between carbon dioxide and air. What we need to do is divide a fan system or an electrical bypass to the existing fans."

Absolute didn't have any suggestions for _that_.

I replied, "Abalardo's working on some ideas. Are there any manuals for this thing lying around?"

"Let me find out."

I followed Pillow into the nursery where David, Sarah and Camille desperately tried to keep all the babies entertained with a ball and a couple stuffed toys. They had a dull look in their eyes like they were waiting in line at the Department of Motor Vehicles. Sharad sat near the entrance, telling Bo Peep and Lammy a religious legend from Pathilon, something about a warrior who mistakenly killed his friend with a scimitar while escaping slave traders in the dark.

 _"The story of Bixok Arbadox,"_ Pillow muttered. "Sorry to interrupt, daughter, but I need to ask you a question. Did you see any Kawedode in storage anywhere?"

Sharad shook her head. "There were a few compartments I haven't checked yet. There might be one in there. Are we really planning to shut off the power and fly this Xonmacil like an ancient Qunlimta?"

"We have to do something soon. We're getting further and further away from Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik. Shutting off the power is going to be the first order of business. The propulsion _needs_ to be cut!"

"Wait," Bo Peep said. "If we cut the power, what happens to the air? Isn't that all done with a computer like they do on the International Space Station?"

"That's why we need a Kawedode," Pillow said. "We need to know how to build a bypass system."

"Good Lord," David sighed. "We're going to re-enact scenes from _Apollo 13_ , aren't we?"

"We have manuals in the computers," Sharad said. "I think Weyland's people took the physical copies."

Her mother shook her head. "I'd wait on that. Let's look around and see if he missed anything."

"Books won't be much use in the dark," said Bo Peep.

"The core still has light. We should be able to read there."

"What about the Brilalksarat?" Sharad suggested. " _They're mobile._ They can run when the ship's power is off."

"I don't know, dear. Something has taken over the computers. Whoever or whatever they are, they might not like us accessing information about bypassing the systems."

" _Gip'm, reem._ Let's take a look around."

"Is God punishing us?" Caitlyn asked me.

I patted her on the back. "I...I don't know. It _does_ seem like it sometimes, doesn't it?"

"God lets rain fall on the just and the unjust alike," Pillow said. "If you're a farmer, it's good news. If you don't like getting wet, it isn't."

"Maybe we're just unlucky then," Caitlyn said.

"My husband has an interesting question about luck. If a black cat crossed Jesus' path before the crucified him, and Jesus always planned to be crucified anyway, does that mean that the superstition is wrong, or that black cats are actually lucky? Then again, what if a black cat _prevented_ his crucifixion, depriving the world of grace, but preventing a lot of personal suffering. Which would be the true misfortune? Obviously, luck had nothing to do with it, but if the superstition were true..."

Caitlyn's reaction probably would have been unusual for someone in 2017, but in modern times, when preachers were put in the stocks, it was a rarity to hear such things, so she just soaked it up. I thought I even detected some amazement.

"I didn't check the cabinets downstairs all the way," Sharad said. "We should check there."

Pillow nodded. Both mother and daughter left the room.

"This is ridiculous," David complained. "We need to shut the engine off _now_. We get further and further away the more we wait. By the time they find a manual, we'll be in the next galaxy."

He pulled one of those tablet computers out of a charging sleeve on the wall, pushing buttons.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Downloading a manual."

After a few minutes of tinkering with the device, I saw a manual opening on the screen.

The screen abruptly blanked out, and then all the lights went off.

The hiss of the ventilation system stopped, and I thought for sure we'd suffocate on our own stale air.

"What's going on up there!" I heard Pillow shouting from the deck below.

The air and power resumed, but now we only had emergency lights. The little device still showed a blank screen.

It seemed the power outage had been created only to thwart us. The Iberet showed no signs of slowing.

Pillow stomped into the room, hands on her hips, snapping her tail stump. "What did you do!"

"Nothing!" David stammered. "I just thought it'd be simpler just to download the manual!"

" _I warned you_ that that thing might not like us tinkering with the computer, didn't I?"

 _"You didn't say not to, honey._ "

 _"I thought that was implied._ "

David groaned, rubbed his face in frustration. "Dammit, Pillow! I was only trying to work smarter, not harder!"

"Well maybe you should leave the smart things to a _more highly advanced species than your own_ , _human!_ "

David reddened. "Are you calling me stupid?"

"Yes!"

Both of them glared at each other, fists clenched. The babies cried.

"How was I supposed to know it wasn't all bullshit?" David said to his wife. "Remember that bible story about how the Israelites smashed open a bunch of pottery and scared an army into defeat? Or how about when the Nazis first made their moves against France, and the French people kept freaking out and thinking tanks were everywhere?"

"Their tanks _were everywhere._ "

"Not at the beginning of the war."

She glared at him. "Regardless, you were wrong."

"You wouldn't have known unless I tried it, right?"

 _"Said Adam in the garden of Eden, and Bedzyk on the planet of Deoring!_ "

The babies didn't like this shouting one bit.

"You two definitely need a nennop," Sharad muttered from the doorway.

"Did you find anything?" Pillow said in a sharp tone.

The daughter held out something that looked like an encyclopedia.

For the next hour, I and most of the team hung around in the bowels of the ship, prying open panels and examining wires, comparing them to the book. David hung back, watching Pillow and Sharad working, a baby in each of his arms. Sarah accompanied him, holding Pontias, Julia trailing her closely due to the renewal of their rather strange familial relationship.

David and Pillow weren't speaking to each other. I decided to do what I could to patch things up between them. "So," I ventured. "What does a nennop do in a situation like this?"

"It's a little embarrassing," David said. "Touchy feely stuff."

"You _need_ touchy feely stuff," Sharad said as she unfastened bolts on a panel. "Both of you."

"You stay out of this, missy!" David blurted.

Pillow flipped through pages in the book with a frown. ""Honey, she's right. _How long has it been_ since we've had one of these sessions?"

"We're speeding off to God knows where, under the power of some alien force, and you want to do this now?"

Moe tore open a bulkhead. "She has a point. As long as we can get this bucket of bolts going to where we need it, instead of the freaking Death Star, I could care less about how you get along with your gal!"

Pillow brushed herself off and stood up. "I disagree, _Mr. Tail Chopping Farmer's Wife!_ "

Moe raised his hands in defense. "Whoa. Hey. I thought you forgave me for that!"

Pillow uttered a low growl, then turned to face her husband. "Let us begin. _Neioru_ ," she said, letting out a slow deep breath.

" _Neioru_ ," David repeated, doing the same.

 _"Breathing exercises,"_ Moe groaned. "That's going to help us _how?_ "

David breathed deeply, in through his nose, out through the mouth. "It actually _does_ help. You should try it."

"Believe it or not," Camille said as she bounced Haman in her arms. "We used to go through the same thing all the time with my son. This stuff actually works. I even tried it on my husband a few times."

Pillow sighed and said, "I am very angry about the situation with the Iberet. If you had waited for us to find the Kawedode..."

"I didn't know we had-"

"Father!" Sharad scolded. "It's not your turn!"

"Sorry, Sharad. It's been a long time."

"Perhaps you should join minds," Julia suggested. "You'd see everything David sees, feel what he feels, and then David could experience the same."

Pillow swallowed. "I'm sorry. I'm still not entirely comfortable with that idea. I prefer to do things the traditional way."

She returned her attention to David. "You acted on your own/ You didn't even ask me."

David took a deep breath, mirroring his wife's angry posture with babies in his arms. I thought it mockery, but Pillow didn't protest.

"What are they doing?" Mark asked me.

"I don't know," I said. "Kind of relationship counseling or something."

Golic and Tido muttered to each other as they pointed to the couple, then pretended not to be doing anything when the husband and wife were looking.

"We could have been okay if you hadn't touched anything and just took care of the babies," Pillow said.

David's face flushed red in anger, but he didn't say anything.

"I can see who wears the pants in this family," Moe remarked.

"Shut up!" David and Pillow snapped at him in unison.

"Jeez!"

"This is an Abreya ship," Pillow continued.

David winced, flushed with anger.

"We Abreyas are born knowing what a Xonmacil is. You only spent a _decade_ among us. _It's not the same thing as a car_ , David!"

David sighed through his nose.

Shasharmazorb leaned over the ramp, poking her head into the room. "What's taking so long!"

"We're busy!" David and Pillow answered at once.

"We're working as quickly as we can!" David added.

"Not exactly accurate," Moe said in a tone not intended for Shasharmazorb's hearing.

"I know you didn't directly cause all this," Pillow said to her husband. "But you _stirred up the proverbial hornet's nest, opened Pandora's box..._ "

Matt grunted, face wrinkling in a scowl. It reminded me of a rhino about to charge.

And then Pillow blurted, "I think you slept with Sarah. You had plenty of chances."

She did another breathing exercise.

"We waste time," Julia said.

Both David and Pillow glared at her.

"I have a memory of a saying," said Hosea. "A president who puts his family before country is not fit to rule."

"Neither one of us want to rule, Hosea," said Pillow. "If you want to read the manual and keep going, have at it."

"Good idea," said Moe. He picked up the book, offering it to Sharad. "You're up, short stuff."

Sharad frowned at him, then glanced at her mother for approval.

Pillow nodded.

"I can help too," Camille said, sitting next to her.

"No, you'd better help mom and dad figure out their thing."

And so the work continued while the couple... _negotiated_.

"Okay," Pillow said to David. "Your turn."

"First of all," her husband said. "No fair bringing sexy B-movie talk into your criticism. Secondly, there are _hours_ of security footage showing the ridiculous things I've done to avoid having sex with her."

Sarah nodded. " _We did a lot of S &M._"

"What!" Pillow shouted.

Now Sharad scolded _her_. _"Reem!_ "

David took a deep breath. "Sarah, tell her in your own words what it means to do S&M."

Sarah blushed. "You.. _.tie a person naked to a bed, or a chair or another piece of furniture, and you leave them there for the rest of the night._ "

Pillow grinned, fighting down a laugh.

"I prayed a lot," David said. "In fact, I prayed every time she tried to seduce me...Oh, and this bullshit with the ship is not my fault. I seriously had no idea it would shut everything off."

Noting his wife's expression, he added, "If I hadn't done it, we would have never known. You say I should have stuck to the book. Is that book going to contain navigational charts of whatever the hell we've gotten to? No!"

"Are we done now?" said Moe.

"Pillow is supposed to breathe, internalize and take her turn," Sharad said. "And compliment."

"And then what? Make-up sex? Hand me that manual."

"You won't be able to read it. It's in Wava."

David and Pillow did breathing exercises.

"Hurry it up, you two!" Moe shouted.

Pillow growled. "All right. We've both said our piece. It doesn't matter who's to blame, we need to get this bypass set up. I don't know how in God's name we're going to navigate space without the computer, but we're going to try."

It took what felt like forever, but we eventually constructed a bypass for the oxygen system, one that worked independently of the main computer.

We found some spare cables, connecting them from the main core to the oxygen equipment. We only needed to disconnect them for a minute, so air remained constant until we could cannibalize the original computer aided devices and wires into the project. A crude computer program on a device unconnected to the main system ensured the proper balance of carbon dioxide to oxygen. Another adjusted the temperature, since we'd also bypassed the air conditioner controls.

Now that it no longer resided in a lead box, I could see that the core resembled a large throbbing heart, covered in sockets that didn't resemble those of any earthly device. The object was blinding, the operation requiring the use of tinted goggles to block out harmful rays.

The core hooked up to one main conduit, one that we just bypassed with our replacement oxygen system. The entire craft hinged on this one piece, which one could deactivate with a code and a specially shaped key, which just so happened to be in the book. The oxygen would continue running because we wouldn't shut down the core, just the power conduit.

"Wait," I said as Pillow stuck in the key. "What about Abalardo? She's stuck in that computer!"

"We're not erasing anything. We're just shutting of the power."

"The word processor doesn't disappear when you flip the power switch on a laptop," said David.

Moe nodded. "Big Bird did okay when that computer at the tower shut down, didn't she?"

"All right," I said. "Let's do it."

Pillow turned the key, typed in a code, and the whole ship went dark.

Well, except the core. We still had plenty of illumination from that in the engine room itself. The rest of the Iberet, however, was as black as a cave.

Already we could feel the ship slowing. We all cheered.

"Now comes the difficult part," Pillow said. "We're going to have to find a way to reverse the engines, plot a course, and navigate this thing manually."

Absolute showed her a strange looking jumble of scrap parts. "I made a sextant."

"I don't get it," said Caitlyn. "How does that prevent STD's?"

Absolute wrinkled his face. "It's for navigation, stupid!"

"Hey," I scolded. "She's just a kid. She really shouldn't even know what STD's are, to tell you the truth."

"Why? _Even she has to protect herself._ "

"Call me old fashioned, but kids really shouldn't know what sex is. At least, not at her age. It's pretty sad to think of the innocence that children lose these days."

 _"The world is sad._ "

Pillow stared at it. "That's...great! But we're not on a pirate ship. There's no ocean. How is this going to help us?"

"You look for _Pluto_. Or the _sun_. Or _Jupiter_. Something that's easy to recognize. They've always been used on stars anyway."

David gawked. " _Where do you go to school again?_ "

Shrugging, Absolute said, "It wasn't in a class. I read about it in an old book. I got flamed when people on Afexun caught me reading it, but I guess it paid off, huh?"

"I suppose the real problem," said Pillow. "Is the accuracy of the monitors, especially with this _thing_ in the computers."

 _"We lost our only good spacesuit,_ " said David.

Our discussions came to an abrupt end when something loudly banged against the hull of the craft.

It turned out our vehicle _did_ have a few windows, but no matter where we went to in the Iberet, we couldn't see what had hit us, or what exactly had happened. We only saw parts of a big silvery thing on the roof. Other than learning that the object had a vaguely rounded shape, and had curving, unearthly molding on its paneling, we couldn't tell what we were looking at.

"What the fuck is that!" David cried as he watched this happen.

Julia volunteered to go out and take a look, but as we approached the hatch to open it, something burned a hole in the ceiling.

A shower of sparks came down, then something metallic clanged against the roof.

Before we could adequately prepare ourselves, a cloud of red gas exploded into the chamber, something that smelled of bleach and boiled cream corn.

Shasharmazorb threw a glob of cocooning stuff at the whole, but this alien force, whatever it was, only made another hole and blasted us with more gas.

The air grew very cold, and, at the very same time, my vision got really blurry and unfocused, my consciousness rapidly fading away from me.

What happened after all of these events is not exactly clear. All I know is that I awoke completely submerged in a purplish pink liquid that I could somehow breathe.

Through the liquid haze, I could see my companions, Ss'sik'chtokiwij, Abreya and human alike, all floating motionless in the pink ooze.

Their chests rose and fell, their limbs twitching every so often, as if in repose.

I swam from window to window, staring out.

The silvery object was gone.

* * *

[0000]

Note: The concept of `Prock' is an homage to David Alexander Smith. My username actually derives from the alien character in his novel, In The Cube.


	72. Chapter 72: Pandora

Where am I? I thought. Who masterminded all of this? What is this...amniotic stuff I'm immersed in? How long had I been...out? There were no answers, only more questions, the biggest questions of all being how to get rid of all this slimy goop, if the oxygen system and electrical would be safe...or, for that matter, if my companions would be.

I shook Pillow awake, and she looked as alarmed as I did.

Fortunately, she had an answer for our current predicament. One of their fire prevention systems vented oxygen into the void of space to extinguish flames. This proved more than adequate for the venting of sludge.

In addition to this fire venting system, the craft also had vacuum hoses designed for sucking up Odwatoh, a goopy alien equivalent of an airbag, which apparently we didn't have anymore. This I discovered after the liquid level had dropped below waist level and we had coughed and vomited the stuff out of our lungs.

Unlike earth vacuums, the machinery made surprisingly little sound. You could talk over it while it was on, maybe even watch TV if you wanted, and still be able to hear the program.

"It all dispersed when we wrecked on Fiorina 161," Pillow had said as the machine slurped up the liquid. "I'm not sure what Weyland did with it, but the reservoirs are empty. Let's hope we don't wreck into anything."

"So this... _stuff_ isn't the same as the...liquid padding that poofs out when you wreck into something?"

The Abreya shook her head. "I've never seen this substance in my life. I'm surprised it isn't poisonous."

"And you're putting _that_ in the reservoir."

"I'm not expecting to crash anytime soon. I have a feeling that if we do, we'll have a lot more to worry about than just that!"

Since we weren't moving, microgravity had taken over. The liquid swelled oddly around me, staying at its current level only due to the vacuum action.

"Did you do something with the holes they drilled in the ceiling?" I asked.

"There's no need. That ship...whoever they are, they sealed the openings with some sort of metal cap."

A big Ss'sik'chtokiwij head emerged from the pink liquid. It seemed Shasharmazorb had been lying below the surface asleep. "Where are we! What is going on!"

"I have no clue," I said. "We're probably even further away from the Auriga than we were before. I'm sorry, Shasharmazorb. I think we're screwed."

Julia swam out of the ooze a moment later. "Now I am certain this is not human technology. No human has ever developed a chemical powerful enough to render a Ss'sik'chtokiwij unconscious."

"They figured out how to knock _me_ out," I said.

"I imagine so, but you're not completely Ss'sik'chtokiwij."

The liquid level now stopped a few inches above my knees. Sharad struggled to a standing position, coughing out slime. "Mother!" she cried. "Where are we?"

"I'll let you know when I find out," Pillow answered.

And then she paled. "The babies!"

She shoved the hose into my hands. "Here! You take over! I must make sure they're alive!"

And so I took over the duty of `sump pumping' while she waded through the muck, searching the floor for her children.

I checked Caitlyn and Moe.

I sighed in relief when I noticed both breathing normally.

Pillow pulled Quana out first, slapping the girl on the bottom like she'd come out of the womb a second time, and the baby cried in an exactly corresponding way. She handed me the baby and pulled out Nathan next, preferring to do the Heimlich on him, due to the child's size. Being of an older, safer age, she set him on the newly exposed kitchen counter.

Following this, she pulled out Haman, then, last of all, Pontias. She may not have said anything, but it was pretty clear, just by the order, who she loved more.

I gave up vacuum detail the moment she put the second baby in my arms, and didn't pick it up again until Pillow had awakened her husband and Sarah.

Seeing as she had taken care of her family, I hurriedly set about rescuing mine.

I pulled Caitlyn out, made sure she was okay and still breathing, then awakened the other children, including Mark and Luke.

"Where are we now, mommy?" Caitlyn asked.

"In the middle of nowhere. Or maybe really far past that point."

She pouted. "So you don't know."

"Sorry, baby."

Absolute rubbed the back of his head with his fingers. "If there isn't a socket in the back of my head, does that mean that I'm still inside The Matrix? If so, what's all this pink stuff?"

I rolled my eyes. "Somehow I don't think that's what's going on."

"I still have a sextant," he said, waving his little toy. "Let me check a window and see if I can help."

He swam to the nearest one, peering out, making a show of using the thing. It was just as good an activity as any, I supposed.

Moe coughed and dragged himself up on a bulkhead. "Good God! Now I know what it's like to drown in Jell-O shots!"

"Good!" Pillow said. "You're awake! I need someone to clear out the lower floor!"

"Say what?" Moe groaned.

Pillow opened a wall panel near the ramp, drawing out a second hose.

Moe gave me this look that said `Why me?' but I just smiled and shrugged, waving my own vacuum.

He laughed and started in on his task.

"I think I know what the pink stuff is for," Absolute said.

Moe grinned. "Yeah, it's for when you got the shits."

"No, I mean that gunk we were sitting in. I think it's some sort of preservative."

"If you want to spread it on toast, be my guest, but I'm not eating."

"No, no, you don't get what I'm saying. They wanted to ship us across the galaxy alive, right? Maybe this stuff, I don't know, acts as a refrigerant? Like, making the ship into a giant cryogenic tank?"

"Hmm," said Moe. " _The shit_ was _cold..._ "

"I'd make a joke about that, but I don't feel like it right now."

Bo Peep shook Golic and Tido awake At first they thrashed in protest, I guess due to having really good dreams, but then they coughed, sputtered and got up out of the mire.

Lammy and Amos stirred in the sludge, crawling up on their great grand mother's body, doffing the slime from their shells as they did so.

Hosea, strangely enough, took this all in stride, doing the backfloat like we were at the YMCA or something.

Absolute abruptly jumped back from the window. "Oh my God! what the hell is that?"

I swam over to where he was, Caitlyn fearfully trailing behind me.

"Any idea where we are?" I asked the boy as I looked out.

"N-no," he stammered. "I...I didn't see anything I recognized. J-Just that fucking... _thing._ "

A confusing jumble of debris drifted around our ship in a great field. Here and there I could see objects of slight familiarity adrift in the pink gelatin we'd jettisoned, paneling from the silver thing that had clamped to our roof, or shattered parts of the Iberet.

"Looks like a war happened out there."

A greasy tentacle beat against the glass with such suddenness that I at once retreated with a cry of fright.

The alien limb thrashed and suckered the viewport, exposing lamprey-like orifices lined with razor sharp teeth. Centipede legs protruded from its other suckered. It flailed at the hull with wiggling tapeworms.

"God!" I cried, fumbling around for a weapon. I frowned when I realized that any sort of gun would punch a hole in the bulkheads and make us depressurize.

The tentacle shifted on the window, its body, loathsome beyond description, fighting the weightlessness of space in attempts to gain purchase and attack us.

A dozen similar creatures drifted in the debris field, but those didn't move, just this thing.

It shrieked at us, its tiny black eyes glaring balefully as its tentacles lashed out. I bumped into Caitlyn as I made a hasty retreat.

"Problem?" Moe asked.

"Oh, nothing much, just a _thing_ trying to get in."

"Is it Thing One or Thing Two?" he joked.

But then he looked out the window. "Oh. You mean the thing that tries to kill Kurt Russell in Antarctica."

"Maybe," I said. "But this one isn't as pretty."

Shasharmazorb swam over to the glass to take a look. "Do you want me to kill it?"

When her visual receptors registered what was attacking, she flinched, backing away. "What the hell is that?"

"I don't know," I said. "If the hull holds up, we may not need to do anything."

"The lower level is still full of fluid," Pillow called from the ramp.

"We've got a situation up here!" Moe shouted back.

"This had better be important!"

The Abreya hurried up to our floor, staring with shock at the thing pounding on the glass. "That's...disgusting!"

The leech tentacle appeared to be showing signs of slowing now, its pounding growing weaker and weaker.

The tentacle slid away from the window with an unpleasant squeaking sound, like a dry squeegee raking across the rim of a bathtub.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Absolute moaned.

I returned to the window, assessing our situation.

The creature that had attacked the door appeared to have stopped struggling and died. It floated motionless amidst the debris like its kin.

"You think he's the pilot of that ship that hijacked us?" Moe asked.

"Maybe. That debris sure looks like part of the ship. It begs the question: What blew them up?"

"Asteroids?"

"We've been through the asteroid belt. I seriously doubt a bunch of space rocks can do damage like this."

David, who had been in the nursery attending his children at the time, now popped his head out the door. "What's going on out here? _I heard a ruckus._ "

 _"Could you describe the ruckus?"_ Moe said dryly.

 _"Breakfast Club,_ " Pillow groaned. " _I_ knew _you two were on the same wavelength._ "

"There's something outside the window," I said.

"What, _like a man on the wing?_ " He hummed a bar of the _Twilight Zone_ theme song.

"Something like that."

He peered through the glass. "Good Lord! What's all that?"

"No clue. I've got more questions than answers. So far, all I can figure out is that those...creatures are, _were_ the pilots of that ship that abducted us."

David nodded. " _Unless they themselves got abducted, and they left their pets behind._ "

"We still don't know where we are or why we've been taken here."

"My money's on food," Moe said. "They captured us live, like lobsters, so we can _stay really fresh_ until they decide to cook us. The mess is probably due to a turf war. They're very possessive about their prey."

"Gee," said David. " _That's_ a depressing thought!"

"What were _you_ expecting? A bunch of friendly Ewoks flying us to Federation Headquarters?"

David frowned at Pillow. _"I thought you said we were on the same wavelength._ "

The Abreya shrugged.

"Anyways," David said. "The thought _had_ crossed my mind that these things might be taking us prisoner for some reason, maybe due to trespassing or stocking a zoo, but they _could_ have been an intelligent race that just happened to intercept our signal."

"If we're just being punished for trespassing," said Bo Peep. "Wouldn't it be simpler for them to just kill us instead of carting us across the galaxy?"

"Who knows? Maybe they have a moral code!"

Moe snorted. "Look outside again and tell me they have benevolent intentions."

"It _was_ trying to break the window," said Absolute.

David replied, "You would too if you were floating around outside without a space suit!"

"I don't know, it looked pretty nasty and evil to me!"

"Maybe those are the pets, or zoo exhibits, and the guys running the ship... _had engine trouble_ and flew off in another ship."

"That's some _serious_ engine trouble!" Moe remarked.

 _"It definitely looks like some kind of war..._ "

"Perhaps we deal with the Pale Ones," said Shasharmazorb. "Their machines _are_ complicated and devious. Far more complicated than the ones humans make. If it is not Jen-Jen who sabotaged your controls..."

"Do you know anything about how to operate their ships?" I asked. "The Old Ones, I mean? Or how to override their systems?"

"You saw my memories, and yet you ask this question?"

I sighed in disappointment. "I was hoping you were holding back."

"And you didn't find out anything from being in her head?" Moe asked.

"Um...That ship...didn't look like a ship from Shasharmazorb's memory."

"Perhaps they made one of a different design?"

". _..Maybe._ I kinda don't think so."

"Something like this happened in a movie my old mommy showed me one time," said Caitlyn.

"Yeah? What happened in that one?"

"The aliens took off everyone's clothes and had their way with them, boys and girls."

"Oh boy," Moe groaned. " _I hope they use protection._ "

"Oh, they never do that. But they always take the babies away and put them to work in their spaceships."

 _"They must age fast._ "

Caitlyn nodded. "They always go away for thirteen years and come back as sex slaves."

For some time, Camille had been sitting on the couch, recuperating from her disoriented state, but now she spoke up. "And you say _your mother_ took you to see that?"

I gave her an apologetic look.

She scowled at me. " _You ought to be ashamed!_ "

"No," I protested. "It was _her old mother_. The one that passed away."

Camille furrowed his/her brow. " _Well. It's good that you...ahem, took over._ The woman sounds like a lost soul."

Caitlyn pouted. "She was my mommy, Camille. Don't say bad things about her."

She looked embarrassed. "I... _We're all sinners, Caitlyn._ I'm just saying that, well, _parents these days don't know how to parent. Showing porn to a child!_ "

"She couldn't afford a babysitter," Caitlyn said. "Plus Galaxy Quest 10 _is_ a kids' movie..."

Camille groaned and rubbed her face.

"I hated that stupid movie," said Absolute. "There was this creep on the Disney boat that made me wear one of those costumes..." He shuddered.

"You think they're going to assimilate us?" Bo Peep asked. "You know, like The Borg?"

"I...don't know."

"What about Asgardians? You think _they_ might be involved?"

"You mean like Thor and stuff?" said Absolute. "That's as ridiculous as Space Hoochies from Galaxy Quest. I'd much more readily believe it's one of those `grays' people are always talking about."

"Then it's a Mandala."

"Yes!" said Golic. "A _Mandala!_ Perhaps if we all meditate at the same time, it will release us from its power!" He glanced hopefully at Shasharmazorb. "Am I correct, master?"

The alien queen answered, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"What about you?" Absolute asked me. "What do _you_ think it is?"

"I think we've got a lot of theories, _but no ideas about how to solve the problem._ "

 _"You got a point."_ Moe tapped on the window. _"Well that thing isn't moving._ I think we're safe for the moment..."

Noticing Pillow's impatient look, he muttered, "I guess I should go back to `sumping out the basement.'" He left the room.

"I'm not going to see my granddaughter again, am I?" Shasharmazorb asked.

None of us could answer that.

"No no no no no!" Sarah screamed, throwing a temper tantrum. " _She was supposed to marry me!_ "

"Cool it," I sighed. " _We all_ miss Sh'kassk'dwuissueblik, her grandmother especially. But there's nothing we can do!"

Sarah screamed, pounding her fists on a bulkhead. "It's not fair!" she wailed with tears pouring down her cheeks. "I was going to marry her!"

"I'm not sure mother agrees," said Julia. "Though I _am_ anxious to have her back with us!"

"You have to marry me now," Sarah said to Mr. Barnes. "You _have to!_ _Ernie's gone!_ You're the only man I ever loved The only man for me in my life!"

"I'm sorry," David said. "I don't practice bigamy."

Sarah slapped him, then burst into tears.

David pulled her into his arms, patting her back, attempting to console her, but she only turned her face around and kissed him on the mouth.

He shoved her away, and she cried more.

"Dammit, Sarah! This won't work!"

"I love you!"

"You'll always be like a sister to me. You'll have to be content with just that!"

"Why can't you have two wives!" she sobbed.

"Because I don't want two wives!"

Sarah ran from the room crying.

"Shit," David said.

Sarah was sulky after this, staying away from the others, protectively clutching Pontias. She only spoke to Pontias and Julia.

It took more than an hour to clear the pink stuff out of every crack in the ship. As time went on, Sarah stopped being sulky long enough to ask Pillow, "If I found an Abreya man on your planet, do you think we'd be able to have children?"

Pillow smiled. "I think it would be much easier for you to have one than a male human to impregnate a female of my species."

Sarah bounced Pontias in her arms. "I hope you're right."

"Why are you so obsessed about this? From what I hear, you should be sick to death of childbirth."

"I never made any of my own. I want the full experience."

"It sounds like you just want intercourse."

"I want another baby, too."

"We've already got too many children to handle. Of course, I believe a good male and a nennop should steer you straight."

Pillow stared at the flooring. "Looks like all that slime has cleared out. Now we need to figure out how to get the ship back in operation."

She picked up the manual, calling Sharad down as she studied it.

While she did this, conversing in Wava with her daughter for several minutes as they studied the schematics, I noticed Sarah plugging a wire into one of those handheld computers. The screen was blank, so nobody paid her any attention, even when she took off the back panel and fiddled with the microchips.

David came down with babies in his arms (Nathan and Quana - he still hadn't accepted Haman), staring at Sarah for a moment, but then gave her a look like `It's not going to work anyway, so why not?'

He knelt next to Pillow, watching her take apart paneling and plugging in wires. "You sure you're doing this right?"

Pillow made a growling ferret noise. "Do you want to do this, _husband?_ "

"I'm just saying-" David blurted.

Pillow shoved the manual into his arms, in between the babies. "There! Have at it!"

David groaned, fumbling with the book as he shifted the infants. "You're not still mad...?"

His wife sighed. "No, _not about that.._.Perhaps...I'm just mad at myself. _I feel so stupid.._."

Hearing a sound like a ramped up electronic slot machine on fast forward, I turned around to witness an astonishing sight.

The young woman had actually made progress. She stood frozen in one spot, eyes glazed over as her hand flew across the touch screen like Data on Star Trek.

I rushed over to her, staring at the screen. "Sarah?"

"Hey!" David yelled. "What the hell are you doing!"

The moment he snatched the device out of her hands, the lights all came on, and the ship hummed to life.

"Dammit, Sarah! What have you done!"

The girl whimpered a little, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I...don't know."

"It's _that thing_ again, isn't it?" Pillow asked.

"Probably," said Mr. Barnes. "She goes into these _weird phases_. I caught her drawing elaborate equations in the sand at the beach. She's scratched them into the walls of the house...the Organization took away my computer because she reprogrammed it, and the television twice in a row. Something to do with the channel menu.

"They give her blackboards and paper, then come in and confiscate them when she's filled them all up. It's like automatic writing. I don't know what they did to her, but it scares me."

Pillow looked skeptical. " _You joined minds with her, and you don't know anything more than that?_ "

"Pillow," he sighed. "Even Sarah doesn't know what they did. _How am I_ supposed to figure that out? She's some kind of idiot savant."

"Hey!" Sarah cried.

"It's not an insult, Sarah. _It's a dictionary term_ _for what's going on with you._ _There's a genius part of yourself locked away in your brain._ "

A holographic Ss'sik'chtokiwij materialized in front of us. "Do not be upset at her. She has freed me from my confines and augmented my systems with elements cannibalized from the foreign operating system. You now have complete control of the vehicle."

"Do you know where we are?"

The hologram froze for a moment. "We have been transported to the Alpha Centaurri star system, located 4.37 light years from earth's sun."

"Can you turn us around and take us back to Pluto?"

She froze again. "I'm sorry, but the ship has suffered irreparable exterior damage. I do not recommend this course of action."

"How far away are we from Pluto?"

"Approximately the same distance Pluto is from earth."

"How long would it take for us to get back there?"

"If the propulsion systems were still at one hundred percent operational capacity, we could easily return to the Auriga within twenty four hours. However, the Obloknu units have been irreparably damaged, so it would take the Iberet more than twelve years."

"Twelve years!" Pillow exclaimed. "Our supplies are sure to run out by then!"

 _"God will provide,"_ David said.

 _"I'm not certain I want to know how._ "

"The...`virus' is gone, though, right?" I asked Abalardo. "You have control of the ship again?"

"Correct, but I do not advise traveling back to Pluto."

"What if we re-submerge everyone in... _that_ stuff again?" Absolute asked.

"Your idea has some potential, but how would the fluid be enclosed? It is no longer abundant enough to fill the entire vehicle, and it must be sectioned off to prevent short circuits in the wiring."

"Can't we close off some hallways or something?"

"That is a possibility. However, one individual would have to remain awake in the cockpit, to ensure that the ship remains on course. This would require the usage of additional supplies."

"How come you can't pilot, Abalardo?"

"Although this is well within my capabilities, if a part of the ship is damaged or malfunctions, I would require a physical body to perform the repair, and no synthetic human is currently available for the task."

"Then just keep the person on ice and wake them up when there's a problem."

"The properties of the chemicals may not allow me to awaken the pilot so quickly."

"We also don't know the first thing about that stuff," David said. "For all we know, it could be toxic, and exposing ourselves to it further could be fatal!"

"So you don't want us to go back," David said to his wife. "What do you want to do? What _can_ we do? We're out in the middle of nowhere!"

 _"We know where we are now._ Maybe we can send a message to Matt's people and have someone come by to rescue us?"

"Communication systems inoperative," Abalardo said. "Neezkavan broadcaster unit has been destroyed."

Remember when we were escaping that hospital and someone shot off a part of the ship? The part that smoked and sparked a lot? That was the antenna. It at least partly explained all the interference we witnessed when we communicated with Matt on that asteroid. The fact we'd parked so close to a broadcasting station appeared to be the only reason why we got a message through at all.

"Before departing, Mara mentioned to me that she intended to repair the transmitter when she returned. At the time of our docking with the Auriga, the device still possessed enough major components that the replacement of two or three critical items would have been sufficient for restoring communications. Unfortunately, it now appears as if an explosion has removed the entire unit from its housing."

I took the communicator out of my suitcase, offering it to David.

"Where did you get this!" he said. "This is mine!"

 _"It's a gift from The Board._ "

He held it up to his face, peering at me through a large bullet hole. A hole in the suitcase lid corresponded to the damaged part. " _Some gift!"_

"I guess we weren't as lucky as we thought!"

David tossed the device on the floor with a frustrated sigh.

Lammy pointed a claw at the severed body parts in the suitcase like they were donut holes in a display. "Can I have these?"

"God yes," I told her. "Please! Get rid of those horrible things!"

The eye and finger disappeared into her toothy mouth.

"Now what do we do?" I asked David.

"Not sure."

"Can we...jury rig something?"

"I...guess it's possible...but I doubt we'd get the same kind of range...or be able to broadcast on the right frequencies..."

"That's the real problem, isn't it?" said Absolute. "We could send a broadcast, but then we'd be calling more of those _Cthulu things_ to our location. We don't know how many there are out there!"

"Maybe so, but we won't last out here for more than a couple weeks on our current supplies. We _need_ a rescue ship!"

"Fine. What about that tracker thing? We can use it now, can't we?"

"We're at least four light years off course. No one's going to think about looking here. It's a big universe. They probably think we're still hanging around Pluto. It won't accomplish anything until we can somehow give Matt a hint about where we are."

"Well," said Moe. "I guess the answer's pretty clear cut. We need to build a new transmitter, or die trying."

"You said the explosion destroyed your transmitter," Julia said. "Is it possible that pieces of it still remain in the debris?"

"It is a possibility," Abalardo answered.

"Would you like me to do a space walk, to retrieve those pieces?"

"An excellent suggestion. However, you would require both a tether and a propulsion unit for precise navigation."

"What if she goes outside with some of that cocoon stuff, and swings a smaller one around like a yo-yo?"

"I do not recommend this course of action, for it is imprecise and dangerous. Parts could be lost, and do not forget the hazardous alien lifeforms adrift around the vehicle."

Hosea came down from the upper floor bearing a small fishing net and cans of air freshener in her hands. "Would this be of any use?"

Oddly enough, it was.

As much as we disliked the idea, we allowed Julie to cocoon Lammy, a cocoon with a slime tether, and the two climbed out the airlock to attempt our little collecting mission. We hung around the windows, anxiously watching the two disappear from view.

So far, everything looked safe. The tentacled creatures didn't move. David took the babies into the nursery.

Pillow frowned at the hideous dead things. "Those look like diseased yuxhaubas."

"You've seen these things before?" I asked.

"No. Why do you think I've seen them?"

"You've given them a name. Why do you think?"

Pillow laughed. "Dear, a yuxhauba is where Abreya babies come from." She pointed to a spot between her legs to clarify.

Caitlyn wrinkled her nose. "Your vagina sounds really gross. Is that why David cheated on you?"

Pillow's face flushed green as a poker table. _"Young lady, that is disrespectful and inappropriate! Go stand in a corner and think about what you just said!_ "

Caitlyn didn't move. She just looked at me.

I raised an eyebrow, gave her a shrug, nonverbally saying, `Hey, this is how a family works.' _"You heard the woman."_

"Okay, mom," she sighed, slowly shuffling to a spot where the kitchen entrance and the wall met.

David, who had been elsewhere on the ship during this exchange, now entered the room with little Quana in his arms.

He pointed at my daughter. "What's that about?"

"She said something inappropriate," I answered.

David grinned at Pillow. "My dad used to do that."

Pillow blushed. "Yes, I know. It was my idea."

He laughed. "Okay, what did she say that was so terrible?"

Pillow's blush deepened. "She said you...were scared of yuxhauba."

David laughed more, turning red. "Then why would I coat each nemgell with sweet teriyaki sauce and stick my face into it?"

Moe pointed to the window. "Then maybe you'd like to stick your face in _that!_ "

Mr. Barnes grimaced in disgust. "No thank you."

"Can I turn back around?" Caitlyn asked.

Quana started crying. He handed her to Pillow to be consoled. "I guess that explains the strange conversation about calamari."

"Mom," Caitlyn insisted. _"You heard what David said. He's cool with it._ "

"You don't go around making smart comments about people's relationships, Caitlyn," I said. "It's rude."

"Aw, c'mon," David said. "She's right. _I'm not offended._ In fact, when I see Davey Jones in all those Pirate movies, it's like porn to me. You have no idea how sexually confusing that is."

 _"That's kind of an overshare,"_ I said. "Plus she made a comment about you and Sarah."

Caitlyn turned around to face him. "I said that Pillow's yuxhauba scared you into sleeping with Sarah."

David reddened, this time in anger. " _Young lady, I want you to turn back around in that corner and think about what you just said!_ "

A minute later, I heard tapping on the hatch. We opened it up, and Julia swam in with Lammy and a net full of electronics parts.

Apparently, under Julia's guidance, Lammy had shot herself into position with the air freshener propellant, capturing the blown out pieces from the Iberet's roof. They'd also snacked on tentacles, as evidenced by their gore soaked maws.

I released Caitlyn from her punishment.

Abalardo gave us a crash course on electronics repair, instructing us on how to assemble a Besnoxi using parts of a broken communicator and...all that junk we'd collected. Lucky for us, we didn't have to go back outside and make it broadcast, we could just set it up on the floor.

The moment we switched it on, we received a distress call.

"Nuxua!" a male voice called through a shower of static. "Ruhdico bea Vahyucal de Zailopar Anpesiq pikhiteb nuxwavifo jujaba! Tuluhiweh hnufdugoh moqo bea...Pandora!...Pandora!"

"What's he saying?" I asked.

"He wants to be rescued," said Pillow. "He's in someplace called Pandora."

"And where is that?"

"Sensors indicate that this weak signal originated from a small nearby planet."

"And he speaks Wava!" David said. "Wow, what are the odds of that!"

"Maybe we should try to help him," said Pillow.

Moe shook his head. "We don't know what kind of trouble he's into down there, or if his intentions are genuine. Even if it's legit, we could easily get stuck in the same trap he's stuck in. We should try to send out our distress message first."

"Good call," said David. "No pun intended."

We had enough equipment to figure out Matt's communicator signature and `video conference.'

Again I found him in a state of complete undress, in the arms of his wife, the fur on their pelts exploding out all over.

Matt's pale face appeared on the screen, eyes barely open. "Dusaq?" he groaned.

"Matt! You've got to help us!" Pillow shouted. "We've been taken to Alpha Centaurri and our engines have been destroyed! We need you to come pick us up immediately!"

"What?" he grunted. "I can barely hear you."

"I'm activating the tracker! We only have a month's worth of supplies! Please hurry!"

""Hey, I got your `text messages.' I'm really sorry you had to go through all that."

 _"Abukos,"_ Pillow said dismissively. "Just rescue us, please."

"Wait. _Where are you?_ "

Camille leaned over the device. "I'm sorry to wake you, Fuzzy. We really do need your help. They say it's going to take twelve years for us to get to Pluto...hello?"

The video had abruptly cut off. We only heard static.

"...We're sending...to Pluto," was the last thing we heard.

"No! Don't send it there!" we all shouted, but we had no way of knowing if Matt heard us.

"Can you text him?" I asked. " _He got your text messages_ , right?"

Pillow sighed. "That was before the transmitter got damaged. Before we got pulled off course. I can still try to send him messages, but I can't guarantee that he'll receive them, or we'll get any reply back."

Just in case Matt got our message, we activated our tracking device, alerting anyone with the proper detection systems to our location.

I frowned. "You sure this won't alert...those people to your presence?"

"We've gained distance from them now," Pillow said. "It should be fine. And even if I'm wrong, it's the only chance we've got."

"As much as it is necessary," David said as he watched the readout on the device. "I don't like this idea. I really wish we had a better way."

Pillow answered, "Honey, they're not going to find us otherwise."

"I know..."

 _"Them's the breaks,"_ Moe said. "What's for lunch?"

Camille and Pillow heated up some leftovers, mixing in a little new stuff from cans and other supplies we had on hand. Luke, Mark and the other children ate more this time around, on account of being starved.

Golic asked again if Guessica could be sacrificed for the Ss'sik'chtokiwijs' meal, but I refused, suggesting they instead devour those nauseating carcasses floating outside the craft. Julia had, after all, dragged one right up to the hatch and affixed it to the bulkhead with cocooning slime, so it was no trouble at all to bring it in and arrange for a feast.

The problem of toxins and biohazards _did_ cross my mind, but it was a choice between that and having Ss'sik'chtokiwij eating the crew. Lammy, Amos, Julia and Shasharmazorb ate their fill of the thing, remarking that it tasted terrible as it looked, but would endure it for the sake of their human and humanoid `pets.'

"Maybe they got hit by a giant asteroid or something," Bo Peep said as she stared at the monster. "Or _space debris._ In the moves, a big rock or a loose satellite can really tear shit up."

"Don't say the S word," I said. "It's impolite."

The girl rolled her eyes. "What, you gonna wash my mouth out with soap?"

I reddened in anger. "Yes! _As soon as I find some_! Look, I let a _lot_ of stuff pass because we were running for our lives, but now we're relatively safe, and _I'm your mother now_ , so things are going to change!"

"Other kids cuss all the time," she protested. "Especially at school."

"Well you're not other kids. _You're my kid._ Cuss again and I'll figure out exactly where the soap is and give you a taste."

 _"That's child abuse._ "

"Go ahead. Try to report me for that. Adults do far worse things to kids these days. Besides, _I thought you wanted a mother!_ "

"I do," she said. " _But adults can cuss_ , right?"

I frowned. "Maybe?"

She blew a raspberry. "Man, that's oldschool. _Way_ oldschool. And honestly, it's a double standard."

"Look," I groaned. "I won't cuss either, if that makes you feel any better. I just want you to be more like... _kids._ "

 _"More like sex slaves in Mickey's Playhouse,_ you mean," she muttered.

"Don't think about it like that. I'm not here to hurt or exploit you, I just want you to be a decent normal kid, okay?"

Bo Peep sighed and nodded. "So...I'm your daughter now."

I chuckled a little. "Who else wants to be your mother?"

The girl grinned. "All right, _mom._ Still, you get my point, right? That... _stuff_ , you know, _asteroids and junk_ , can really _mess stuff up._.."

 _"Maybe..."_ I said.

David finished putting our dishes away. "Abalardo, can you give us an analysis of this...planet the signal came from?"

"I am sorry, but our long range sensors have been damaged. We will need to get closer to the planet to perform an effective scan."

 _"Another bad idea,"_ Moe said. "What if you get sucked into a freak storm or something?"

"We only have to orbit the planet," said David. "We don't need to go in, right, Abalardo?"

"Affirmative."

"Do your sensors tell you if there's anything else orbiting the planet? Another ship, perhaps?"

"I'm sorry, but my detection systems have been damaged."

 _"The male who sent the distress message spoke Wava,_ " Pillow urged. " _He's an Abreya!_ "

"It sounds like we're going to go sightseeing," David said with a frown.

"I still don't like it," Moe said. " _A planet tends to create interference._ "

"You got a point," I said. "I mean, how is anyone going to find us if we're orbiting...whatever that is?"

"It's not going to make that much difference," said David. "We don't know what direction they're coming from, or if they're coming. Gotcajin detection systems are pretty sensitive, so they may be able to locate us, even on the opposite side of a planet."

"If someone's broadcasting from the surface," Pillow said. "Maybe we can combine our equipment and get a more powerful signal through."

 _"What if we get stuck down there?_ " said Absolute. "In every scifi horror movie, there's always a distress call that people shouldn't answer, and they end up answering it anyway and getting stuck on the planet and almost killed by whatever it is that killed the guy that sent the distress call. Everyone thinks the guy is saying `save me,' when he's really saying `save yourself.'"

"Okay, so maybe we shouldn't land on the planet until we get a good look at it. I still think we'll be okay if we just orbit the planet and take a few scans."

"We should have asked Matt for extra gojibis," Sharad said. "Even if they find us, we're going to be lacking equipment."

"You want to try the radio again?" I asked. "I mean if you know how to get a signal again, have at it."

Sharad tried, but there was no sign that anything was getting through, or being sent back. After attempting to tune the thing for over a half hour, she gave it up in frustration.

While she busied herself with that futile exercise, her mother was already flying us into the orbit of the planet. I joined her in the cockpit to get a full three hundred sixty degree view of the place.

The view didn't turn out to be as full as I expected. Thanks to the war, or the explosion or whatever, we only got an irregular checkerboard image of the planet, several screens turning fuzzy with static or blanking out as we gazed at them.

Still, the place looked beautiful, a swirling blue-green orb, nearly identical to earth, except for the fact that its cloud strata took on patterns you'd expect from Jupiter, and the land and water masses did not even remotely resemble continents or bodies of water.

"What do we know so far, Abalardo?" I asked.

"Planet does not have a breathable atmosphere. Nitrogen, oxygen and carbon dioxide are in ranges less than eighteen percent. Xenon roughly five point five percent, one percent methane and hydrogen sulfide. The rest of the percentages consist of ammonia, chlorine and other toxic gases."

"And yet someone's alive and breathing enough to send a distress call."

"Maybe they just crashed an hour ago," Absolute suggested.

"Or maybe they died a year ago," said Moe. "And the guy just had his thing set on repeat."

"Do we know what part of this place that signal came from?" I asked.

A sonar map of the planet appeared as an overlay on top of the live video of the surface.

"Still searching," Abalardo said. "Two hours at our current speed at this level of orbit should allow us to make a complete aerial scan of the surface."

The computer beeped. "Update: I have discovered records in the system concerning this planet. Its official name is Pandora."

Pillow furrowed her brow. "Pandora... _why does that sound familiar?_ "

David, who had been holding Quana and watching from the couch, said, "We had actually been planning an expedition to the place. Rumor has it that the planet is inhabited by intelligent lifeforms that desperately need the gospel.

"I even heard that someone shipped a cargo of food, bibles and other supplies that way. Of course, this was five years ago. I haven't heard a thing since. No one told me the atmosphere wasn't breathable."

I began to feel hopeful. "But they know about this place, right? Your friends?"

"Well," said David. "Not really. The information we received was kind of sketchy. We were supposed to be getting more data from the missionary, but it never arrived."

 _"Definitely sounds like a dead guy's message,"_ Moe said.

"But what if it's not? What if he, I don't know, found some kind of way to breathe down there? Like some kind of cave with air plants or something?"

"You're not seriously considering paying the guy a visit, are you? _We don't have any suits!_ "

"What if we do like _Cloverfield?_ " said Absolute. "Make one out of a shower curtain and soda bottles?"

David frowned. "That was a _gas mask_."

"Naw, man. I'm pretty sure it was a space suit."

"Whatever," Mr. Barnes groaned. "I don't think it's going to work. I think we should just...land and radio the guy, or send in a Ss'sik'chtokiwij or something. I mean, if they can breathe, or not get affected or whatever."

"And scare the piss out of the missionary dude?" Moe said. " _Great plan_. I think I almost prefer the shower curtain idea."

"Let's wait for the scan and find out if we can land the ship first. If it's some rugged mountainous place, we're going to be screwed anyway."

We never got a complete scan. About fifteen minutes into our orbit, Abalardo announced, "We are receiving a radio transmission from a nearby vessel. They appear to be addressing us. Would you like to hear the message?"

 _"On screen,"_ David said in a passable Patrick Stewart voice.

"Transmitter is not connected to cockpit area. To accomplish two way communication, you will need to use the communication device you have built."

I dragged it in from the other room, and we stared at the little monitor.

A uniformed buzz cut soldier appeared on the screen, furrowing his brow as he stared back at us.

"Unregistered vessel, you are trespassing into American airspace. Please respond with your credentials."

The communication device we'd cannibalized to make our transmission came with a mute button of sorts. David pushed it.

"Let me guess. They can track our tracker."

"This isn't a military vehicle," Pillow said. "We only have a basic emergency signal."

"Respond," the jarhead repeated through the speaker.

"Hey," said Absolute. "Maybe we should talk to them! _They've got to have supplies and space suits!_ "

 _"And guns,"_ Moe said. "And a one way trip back to the island."

"Craft, request identification."

"Abalardo," I said. "Do we know where they are?"

"Negative. My sensors do not detect anything within range."

"And yet you can scan the complete surface of the planet."

"Perhaps that is an overstatement. There is a significant amount of indigenous vegetation blocking cans of several areas. I am also receiving distortion from electrical storms. Furthermore, my sensors can only scan in one area at a time."

"Unregistered vessel, this is the ISV Venture Star. Identify yourself, or we will open fire!"

"What now?" Pillow asked.

David shrugged. "You think they'd even believe us?"

"Vehicle, identify yourself. You have one minute to comply."

David switched it off mute. "This is _Robin_ , aboard a _futuristic space rocket. I have Batman at the controls._ "

Pillow suppressed a giggle. "You dork."

The man on the other end paused, as if giving David's answer serious thought.

"Vehicle, identify yourself. You have thirty seconds to comply."

"Geez," David said. " _No sense of humor._ Fine, fine. This is David Barnes of the missionary ship Iberet from the planet Pathilon."

Pause.

"Say that again please."

"My name is David Barnes. This is an alien spaceship. I have a serial number and identification harmony, but I'm pretty sure you can't do anything with it. Of course, I could be wrong. Would you like me to transmit?"

"Go ahead.. _.Iberet._ "

David read off the serial number, twice, but it was in Wava. He translated the numbers into English, but of course it didn't match any earthly vehicle registry.

"Iberet, your credentials are invalid. Remain at your current position and prepare to be boarded."

The stranger disconnected.

"Should we do it?" David asked.

"Personally," said Moe. "I wouldn't. They're _American military_. They'll probably just capture us and take us back to the island."

"What if we pretend we're carrying a disease?"

 _"Ooh! Even better! They'll blow us to bits and incinerate our remains!_ "

Pillow got back in the pilot's chair, steering away from Pandora's orbit.

We hadn't gone more than a couple miles when we received another transmission. "Iberet, you have been instructed to remain at your current position! Do not move or we will fire!"

We'd shut off the tracker, but I guess that didn't help us any.

David pushed the `speak' button. "I'm sorry! There's something wrong with the engine! We've lost control...of the _controls!_ "

He held a battery powered pencil sharpener up to the microphone piece on the machine, grinding a number two hard lead. "System failure! System failure! " he shut off the device.

The floor shifted out from under me, and I went flying into a wall.

"We're under attack," said Abalardo. "Adjusting course."

I hit another wall, and all the lights in the ship went out.

"Primary thrusters damaged. Life support sustained. Attempting to re-route power... _mother was so much better at this._ "

"Maybe we should have let them board us," Moe muttered.

"Too late now," I said.

The entire ship rocked and vibrated like a cheap apartment in a category five earthquake.

David looked white knuckled and pale, but he still managed to inject some humor into the situation. " _It must be jelly_ ," he said with a nervous laugh. " _`Cause jam don't shake like that!_ "

We must have entered the planet's gravitational pull, for in the next moment we were flying up into the ceiling and sticking there like we were in the Monkey Barrel ride at some amusement park.

"Oh shit," David gasped. _"Looks like we might have to start making shower curtain suits after all._ "


	73. Chapter 73: The End

The ship was rapidly becoming hot. With all the damage done to the exterior, I feared we'd be re-enacting the Columbia disaster within a few short minutes. Or, if we were extraordinarily lucky, an explosive incident similar to the airplane scene at the beginning of Tom Cruise's _Mummy_ movie.

"We don't have any parachutes," I said. "Do we?"

"You really want to jump?" David asked. " _In that atmosphere?_ I'd rather die the other way."

"I seem to remember you helping me ruffle Grunkiahu feathers at a rather high altitude," Pillow said.

David reddened. "That was a long time ago. _In a place where you could actually breathe!_ "

"We got that stuff you vacuumed up, right?" said Absolute. "You know, inside the `airbag' compartments?"

"Yeah?" David said. " _Well, it's not quite the same thing._ "

"I hope you're wrong, David. I really, really, really hope you are."

"Just for giggles," Moe said. " _Do we even have chutes?_ "

"Only one. The Board took the other ones."

" _Wonderful._ I understand dissecting the alien equipment, _but the chutes_? Who does that?"

Lammy smacked into me as she rolled across the ceiling. Amos rolled out of the other room, into ours. Mark and Luke clutched at my legs and knocked into walls.

I could hear the others bumping around in the other room. I sincerely hoped they were all right, and not receiving any serious injuries from all the jostling.

David clutched Quana protectively to his chest. I could only assume that Sarah, Camille and Sharad had the other babies likewise shielded and safe in the nursery. If so, they at least had a padded compartment, possibly allowing them a chance at surviving the impending wreck...though I wasn't quite sure of their chances of survival after that, with the toxic environment, the reliance upon adults for food, and other such things.

Caitlyn held onto me tightly.

"At least we are in the interior of this vehicle," I heard Shasharmazorb saying from the ceiling of the other room. "The heat damage can be very painful."

As we continued our descent, we all said our individual prayers, more or less. You know what they say about there being no atheists in foxholes. The Abreyas prayed in Wava, the Ss'sik'chtokiwij, well, Shasharmazorb had hers, confused prayers to the Ss'sik'chtokiwij god. She'd learned something about Christianity, but I wasn't quite sure at the time what she believed in that regard. The topic didn't quite come up in our mind sharing.

Pillow led us all in an English group prayer, asking for God to deliver us, or at least provide us with what we need for survival. When it had concluded, David said, "Well, it was nice knowing all of you. If we don't make it, I hope I'll be seeing you in Chisda."

Despite all the damage to the exterior, the Iberet held together remarkably well throughout our descent. I expected a wing or a hull plate to come flying off, exposing us to the outside...(air isn't the appropriate term), _toxins_ , everybody screaming and flying out like a scene in a disaster movie, but Abreya spaceships are apparently made of a hardier material than airplanes, so instead we only endured blaring alarms, Abalardo informing us of the various mechanical defects, and more physical abuse from the violent movements of our spacecraft.

Seconds later, we hit something.

If you've ever been in an accident, you wouldn't understand the jarring blur, the confusing mashed together information your brain picks up at random in those last harrowing seconds.

The only thing I can compare it to is watching footage of someone kicking a camera down a staircase, except you're the camera, and it hurts when you fly through the air and hit things.

I kept Caitlyn pressed to my chest, but I didn't really know what good it would do. I think she still knocked against things.

And Bo Peep...I hoped they had someone protecting her, since Moe was with me, and he was busy trying to keep Absolute safe.

I couldn't see where we were going, but the loud scraping, scratching noises seemed to indicate tree branches.

I heard a gushing sound as the pink ooze flooded the living area, then the gurgling of Tido, Golic and the others trying to gasp for air in the stuff.

The liquid rushed into the connecting hallway, splashed over my legs.

We flipped upside down and backwards.

The emergency lights and everything went out, plunging us into total darkness.

The craft underwent another explosive earthquake-like crash, raked and juddered across something bumpy as a washboard (rocks, more than likely), then, after a low whistling moment of free fall, we collided with something else.

Pink fluid exploded all around me, simultaneously freezing me and numbing me into unconsciousness.

When I at last awoke, I thought I was having a nightmare.

I lay naked on a stone slab in a cavern, surrounded by hairless blue creatures with glowing yellow eyes and glowing speckles running up and down their narrow bodies.

I couldn't breathe. I gasped for air, but it felt like my lungs were getting nothing, as if I experienced an asthma attack.

My vision blurred. Stars swam across my eyes.

The creatures spoke to one another with concern, in a language I couldn't understand as they pointed to my exposed exoskeleton.

And then they put this giant slimy louse on my chest, a thing which slithered slug-like up between my bare breasts, its secretions numbing my skin. I tried to scream, but I only managed a shriek that sounded like a rabbit being strangled.

I tried to get up and run, but someone had strapped my arms and legs to the slab.

The blue creatures impassively watched as the big bug thing crawled further up my chest, oozing over my clavicle, my throat...

Its slimy claws gripped my chin, numbing my face. I turned my head away, but a pair of blue hands forced me to again look straight up at the popcorn stalactites on the cavern ceiling.

The thing climbed up on my face and opened its mandibles, forcing an oozing golf ball sized glob of something encased in fleshy mucus between my lips, prying my teeth apart with its sticky legs.

My tongue went limp the moment the object slid across it.

I tried to stop it with my mouth claw, but the secretions numbed the area too much.

The thing tasted like soggy bran cereal and mold, becoming more and more tinged with the flavor of coconut and rotten meat when it got caught on the minute surfaces of my tongue.

The creature's claw rammed at the ball of slime again and again, until it sunk into my esophagus.

At this point, I couldn't breathe at all. After a few feeble attempts at inhalation, I completely blacked out.

Imagine my surprise when my lungs suddenly filled with air.

I gasped and sat up with a start.

Unfortunately, this was no dream. I _actually had_ been stripped naked and laid in a cold cavern with slime tingling on my chest and face.

For some reason, I could breathe comfortably. I guess the blue people trusted me, because they had also removed the crude leather straps they'd used to secure me to the stone slab.

A pair of them stood quite close to me. A Clovis style stone implement hung from the nearest guy's belt. He hovered so close that I could easily swipe it and stab him with the weapon.

I stared wild eyed at him. "What did you do to me! What was that _thing_ you put down my throat!"

 _"Cihi uccku mucnegh odok ovon zelfuje."_

I grabbed him, pressing the sharp edge of his knife to his throat. My eyes anxiously scanned the cavern as I assessed the situation.

The strangers surrounded me on all sides, muttering to one another in nervous whispers. When I saw one of them drawing a stone blade, I shook my head, gesturing for them to drop it. For emphasis, I shot out my mouth claw.

The creatures gasped and made mystical signs, worshiping me as a god.

That's when I saw Caitlyn running toward me, clad in a toga made from green skins. "Don't kill him! _They're nice! They saved our lives!_ "

I stared at her. "You sure?"

Caitlyn nodded.

Swallowing, I handed the primitive knife back to my hostage. 'Sorry."

Caitlyn gave the blue creatures a gesture a pastor makes when he wants a congregation to stand up. At first, they hesitated, but once I nodded to them, they fearfully jumped to their feet.

Life was going to get a lot more interesting.

The strangers who had rescued us were called Tamtiwa, humble fisher folk of the tribe of Mejdap, who eked out a living on the shores of the Heecbam river.

The Tamtiwa lived in a network of caves around the rim of a vast crater lake. Our amenities in this Spartan place were few but sufficient for our needs.

We had a spectacular view of a beach, and every morning and evening we could see the tribespeople working out there, weaving baskets, cleaning fish, floating an armada of outriggers and rafts as they cast their nets into the water.

In the days that followed, we would acquire enough of a grasp on their vocabulary to understand that they had rescued us from the wreckage of our ship, the mysterious pink alien substance the only thing keeping some of us from smothering to death on the planet's deadly fumes.

They had forced something called a Bazrok down my throat, which apparently converts the toxic atmosphere to the breathable oxygen my body needs, receiving my carbon dioxide and various nutrients from my body as part of the symbiotic agreement. In other words, I'd live, but I'd always be hungry, and my breath would always smell like car exhaust.

As much as I can figure, our lifesaving cure was a complete accident, or perhaps a miracle.

A day after the crash, as we lay frozen in suspended animation from all the pink glop, a Bazrok chanced to stumble across Sarah and Pontias, both sprawled along the ground blue faced, slowly dying from oxygen deprivation. The Bazrok, a species notorious for attacking young Tamtiwa and delivering them packets of oxygenated death, proved in this instance to be something we all needed for survival.

Thinking the creature to be doing something harmful to Sarah, Molcow (the guy I held hostage a few hours ago) killed the creature, but then repented of this when he discovered both victims alive and breathing the air as if born to it.

When the Tamtiwa found the others in similar peril, a great Bazrok hunt began, and they loved it. Never before did they have a real demand for those deadly inedible things, and now roughly twenty individuals had an actual use for them.

The Tamtiwa rescued the humans first, not because they were more important or special or anything, but because they needed guinea pigs to experiment on before applying the cure to the much more valuable Tamtiwa-like Abreyas.

Absolute took to the cure quite readily, and even thanked them, but Moe and Tido fought back, convincing our hosts of the necessity of restraints.

They carried me, Golic, David, Camille, Caitlyn, Hosea and Bo Peep back to the caverns on stretchers, their heads stuck in earthen jars filled with the pink stuff, until each of us could receive a symbiote.

Seeing that their patients under observation bore no ill effects from the Bazrok larva, the Abreyas came in next, Pillow, Quana, Haman, Nate and Sharad.

When I asked the Tamtiwa about Luke and Mark, they told me they had witnessed the two males matching their description playing in the jungle, neither one seeming to be affected by the poisonous atmosphere.

That left the Ss'sik'chtokiwij.

The Tamtiwa had been terribly frightened by them, and for that reason avoided their species at all costs.

One of their children said that they had seen Julie being `attacked' by a Bazrok. Lammy and Amos, last seen drifting frozen in the pink sludge, had disappeared, though there were rumors about mangled animals being found in the jungle, and Shasharmazorb's whereabouts were anyone's guess.

I wasn't terribly worried for any of them. After all, if a Ss'sik'chtokiwij can survive in the vacuum of space, they can certainly adapt to a toxic atmosphere like the one we're in now. They were strong. They'd find a way. I just knew it.

It wasn't the wildlife refuge on Pathilon we'd been promised, but it seemed we had found the next best thing, a jungle home light ears from the enemies that pursued us, the corrupting influence of modern society a mere dark glimmer on the far horizon.

As Caitlyn and I stood on the shore, watching Tamtiwa fishing in the fading sunset, I put an arm around her and said, "Baby, I think we're home."

* * *

[0000]

Thanks for reading!

The last few chapters were probably riddled with scientific errors, but I hope you enjoyed them anyway.

This concludes Ellie 074. The story will continue in _Becky 075_ and _Julie 076_ , both appearing soon at this Fanfiction site.

Also keep an eye out for new chapters in my other stories, _Eye of Quetzalcoatl_ and _Pigs in a Blanket_ , where Zack, Ippi and other characters from this story will make appearances.


	74. Chapter 74: Wurbsova Morgan

To read more about Moe, Ellie and "Grandmother" please read Julie 076 on this Fanfiction website.

To find out what happened to Ernie, Big Bird, Ellie 2, Newt and other popular characters, read Becky 075.

* * *

[0000]

Journal of Wurbsova Morgan

(Translated from Wava)

[0000]

* * *

The moment I aided the escape of Pillow, Ellie and their group of non-terrestrial friends, I knew that things would not end well for me, especially once I set off the string of detonations that would, for a time, cripple the island's anti-aircraft weaponry.

As I stood upon the roof of the compound's crematorium, watching the flak towers exploding, and the small crescent shaped Pathilonian spacecraft turning into a tiny speck above the ocean, chased by weapon bearing helicopters, planes and drones, a smaller drone passed unseen behind my back, sticking me full of tranquilizer darts. I collapsed ungracefully, scratching my face on the tar and gravel roofing shingles.

I awoke naked on a bed in one of those damn hotel rooms, the kind with unopenable shatter proof windows, and doors that lock from the outside.

On top of the dresser, I found a tablet computer. It offered me nothing but a news feed. The top story: a hairy purple thing with horns that people were calling The Messiah. The creature, who answered to the name Jeff, was only interested in finding his wife, but the leaders of several world religions were claiming this Satanic looking beast was everything from the reincarnation of the Dali Lama to Elijah to the `true' priest king messiah prophesied by Torah. Scientists said he possessed both Jewish and extraterrestrial blood, but i think someone put it there artificially, if the whole story wasn't just a fabrication by The Board to deceive me.

I noticed, with much annoyance, that a ceiling mounted camera watched me this whole time, but there wasn't much I could do about it.

I searched the room for clothing, but only found a kimono and loincloth combination that made me look like a hussy from some prepubescent boy's karate video game.

Sigh. I'd have to make do with it. At least my tail had somewhere to go.

The next order of business was to figure a way out. General procedure in this kind of situation was to search the dressers and thumb through a bible until I found a key taped to one of its pages, but I found no key there, or anywhere around it. I only found a hair brad, jammed in the very back corner of the drawer. It took awhile, but I at last managed to use this to pick the lock to my room and escape to the hallway beyond.

The hallway had green walls, trimmed with a bland art deco pattern. The lighting sconces looked French.

One by one, other doors along this hallway swung open, rows of strange faces gawking at me like I were a circus freak.

Ironically, one of them happened to be a dwarf. "What the flying fuck is going on?" he asked.

TO BE CONTINUED IN "PIGS IN A BLANKET", a story on this same Fanfiction website.


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